les histoires de chrislebo

"Really?"

"Yes."

"She warned me that he was pushy and soon would have his way and she kept on saying that you wouldn't stand up to her if something of that sort did happen."

"And all the other events said to me clearly that he did have an upper hand in your relationship."

"She told me everything about him and why he was pursuing me."

"Why?"

"Several things - the fact that he was single for quite long in the recent past, his adventurous streak, his fascination for women, and the fact that he was lucky with quite a few of them in an extramarital relationship."

"We were about a month away from our wedding then. And all this talk had a strange effect on body. Although, I didn't find him attractive my mind was getting cluttered with thoughts of him."

"Around him I felt unsure and often was in a sexually excited state, which only encouraged him."

"One evening when we were heading out for doing our clothes, shopping, he joined us. You were out - but it was Mamta, her husband, Malini and myself."

"At the very last minute he joined us and he sat next to him in the behind seat."

"And?"

"And he held your dear wife by her waist for the next twenty minutes."

"Did he try to ***** in any other way?"

"No."

"That's it - but it was enough for me to wet my panties!"

"What were you wearing?"

"Is that exciting you?"

"Not really," I feigned.

"I want to imagine it though."

She smiled.

"It was my usual trousers and a tight top," she said, "but the important part was that part of my waist was exposed and his hand nestled in that portion."

"He only felt it a little bit and largely kept his hand in place the rest of the drive."

"Mamta told me later that since I was warming up to him, she can make a deal with her ******."

"Strange."

"Yes. She said that she could convince her ****** to not push but wait for my approval."

"And you agreed."

"NO."

"Wait, why did she think that you were warming up?"

Manisha had queasy smile but she decided not to hold her horses back.

"May be this was partially my fault," she added.

"In what way?"

"For going along with some of the things she tried."

"What?"

"Wait - don't judge me," she pushed me back, "you accepted him as the alpha male of our family, so you can't complain if I have behaved in accordance to that."

"Wait we never talked about this until now," I complained.

"Well too bad," she responded haughtily.

"Look I said I don't want to judge."

"But your actions don't suggest that."

"And the stuff I have been doing is to pander to your needs."

"So, you are suggesting that I like to see you taking his equipment in your mouth?"

"Then why push me for it?"

"To fulfill your needs," she countered.

"You love the smell of it, you love the taste of it.

"Let me check," she said, and quite brazenly groped my bulge. It obviously was inflated with ***** as all this talk had worked me up.

"See," she whispered, "this obviously excites you," she added giving me a peck on my lips.

"Now if you accept your fate," she continued, "and don't hesitate as much tonight, I would share the gory details."

"On second thoughts - we should wait for that until we have fully embraced him in our lives."

"But," I pushed her but she cut me off by saying, "Trust me, this is perhaps better for both of us."

"But," I pushed her again.

"Look, I will summarize it if it still unnerves you but the fun is in the details."

"As I explained - I was going down the slippery slope too fast but Mamta knew that this may jeopardize our marriage if it escalated too soon."

"So, she persuaded her ****** to keep away from me for a little while - until I was ready to be adventurous."

"Just like that?" I countered.

"No," she responded calmly.

"Mamta had grand plans," she continued.

"Virginity was a small price to pay for, if they could secure a woman who was ready to be bred for life."

"So that was the plan all along?"

"Yes - I tried to avoid it many times but you were simply too thrilled to go down that path."

I objected to it but she ignored and I too realized that none of it would have transpired without my willingness.

"So, nothing happened?"

She looked at me as if I was stupid but then she realized that perhaps was not entirely untrue.

"Well, leaving a young virgin without putting a stamp on her is no good sign for a lecher."

"On the day, we were supposed to consume our marriage," she continued, "Mamta made the arrangements for me to spend time with Kishanchanji."

"Just before we bedtime," she added.

"Really?"

"And you fell for it?"

"Seriously?"

"What would you have done if you had such an opportunity with Mamta?"

I didn't respond, knowing that this was but natural.

"What was the plan?" I asked

"He just wanted to get intimate with me - no intercourse."

"And he did," I quipped.

"Yes; it was heavenly."

"We rolled in our marital bed for almost half-an-hour, before Mamta interrupted us."

"There was no intercourse - it was just kissing."

"Now, keep with your promise honey," she said and broke the conversation abruptly and left.

That night was pretty much a repeat of what we did the previous night with the difference that I spent a lot of time licking his penis while he fucked her.

We returned from their honeymoon and life resumed as usual. As expected, Manisha slept with him that whole month but she did make the excursions to my room where we would continue it with similar passion. She would ensure that my penis was sheathed but occasionally she would let me come in her mouth. Soon I learned that Manisha was gifted with remarked libido that I alone could have never quenched even if I was gifted in that department.

One evening, just like the normal way, she received me at the door and the pulling me into the downstairs bedroom gave me a sloppy kiss. With nervous smile, she said, "You are going to be a ****** again."

I didn't know how to respond but kissed her in response.

"I didn't think it would be so quick," she quipped. There was a lot of nervousness in her voice.

"I am not surprised," I answered.

"How are we going to manage two of them?"

"It's normal - Tushard would be two by then."

"It's too early," she quipped.

"Are you kidding?" I joked.

"This lady from my office had five kids in a matter of eight years."

"She was feeding two of them on a regular basis."

Manisha smiled but in a concerned tone asked, "Are you okay with this?"

"We have not been fair to you," she added.

"But you pushed me in this direction," she justified.

"I know. I know."

"I am not complaining."

"Look this is a good thing," I argued.

"Kishanchanji is getting older so the sooner the better."

"Are you honest or just saying to please me."

"No - really honey," I said taking her into my arms.

"I don't want you to err too much," I added.

She looked at my strangely.

"I mean with anyone else," I clarified.

"You really want me to be dedicated to Kishanchanji?" she asked, looking at me intently.

I nodded.

"You mean beyond the three year period?" she asked, waiting for my response. We were standing in an embrace but she had pulled back to look at my face. It perhaps was difficult for her to register my expression as the toilet light was behind my back.

"Yes."

She stared at me intently. A soft smile had adorned her face and then mischievously she asked, "Why do I feel that thing between your legs swelling?"

"You really want me to be like that woman from your office?"

I nodded.

"You don't want me to entertain Amirchanji?" she asked, quickly changing the track.

"Not right now - and not until Kishanchanji has more than his fair share."

She had a faint smile.

"You have really enjoyed watch me make out with me on our honeymoon!"

"It's not that," I countered, "I just think that you would have sexually a richer life if you embrace him wholeheartedly."

"Which I have," she argued.

"And may be we can just let fate decide our destiny."

We made out quite leisurely in that dimly lit restroom once again but she didn't allow me anything beyond kissing that evening. Mamta had spend time with me that afternoon, so I wasn't really longing for it. In fact, Mamta has been meeting me thrice a week but sex with her was rather plain. She made simple sex mostly lying on her back and occasionally on the top. No matter, how much I tried she would not consider any other positions. She detested my fingers probing her anal area and kept herself spotlessly clean during all those sessions. Her breath would be clinical and didn't evoke any passion in me. She expected similar hygiene from me as well. Another major issue was that she could not last long and would climax in no time. Going down on was practically impossible as she would coerce me to mount her in almost no time.

It was quite evident that she really fancied me as she would often call me and talk to me on a regular basis and several times dropped hints of wanting to see me. It was sad for me to let her down time and again due to the intense work pressure that Amirchanji was subjecting me to. That was part of the reason he was successful and I was certainly glad to have him as another mentor. Anyway, Mamta loved making out with me but she simply couldn't be another Manisha for me. And perhaps this is the difference between Manisha and her; apart from the differences in the beauty department, Manisha was really a desirable woman. Just imagining an old codger like Kishanchanji having access to a saucy lady like her - who was adventurous and ever willing to please him in the bedroom - is impossible. Yet that was the reality. Quite possibly it was also the main reason why Kishanchanji decided to settle on her. After all, she behaved just like Mamta then he would have no incentive to court her. He obviously needed someone far more promiscuous and livid. I enjoyed Mamta's charms but didn't get to see Malini yet. Mamta was flippant about her and kept on saying that she would soon join. Anyway, that day wasn't too far.

CUCKOLDED PAR un VIEUX, DOMINANT MÂLE


Notre première vraie expérience de sexe s'est produite peu après que nous nous soyons déplacés en Australie. Mon épouse, Joan, avait trente-deux ans alors. Elle est 5 ” du ’ 7 grand, mince, très attrayant avec la sorte de per***nalité gentille et véritable qui attire des per***nes. J'avais trente-huit ans, construction moyenne, regards de moyenne. Nous seulement avions été mariés deux ou trois années, le deuxième mariage pour moi, bien que nous ayons été très heureux ensemble et ayons eu beaucoup de liberté parce que nous le ’ t de didn avons tous les enfants (le ’ d d'I a découvert que j'étais stérile, la rai*** mon premier mariage fini). Nous étions vos couples suburbains typiques, j'avais lu quelques mags de porno dans mon temps mais ne les avais jamais montrés à Joan (ou à mon épouse précédente) par crainte de l'offenser. Nous le ’ t de didn avons tous les films bleus, vibrateurs, n'importe quoi de pareil. J'étais M. Thought About quelques choses et elle était Mme Innocent. Sexe, bien qu'amusement, ’ t de wasn haut sur notre liste de priorités. Joan a apprécié pour être sucée et je ferais cela à elle par le passé ou deux fois par semaine. Elle n'était jamais beaucoup intéressée par les rapports et à cette étape elle était par le passé ou deux fois par mois chose. J'avais l'habitude de penser nous l'avons faite parce que nous nous sommes sentis que nous devrions. Je n'ai eu aucune idée ce qui a constitué l'exécution moyenne pour un type mais j'étais certaine mesure du ’ t de didn d'I jusqu'à elle. I le ’ d jamais n'a au mieux duré plus que deux ou trois minutes. Étant honnête, j'étais si pauvre aux rapports que le ’ t de wasn d'I sure je les a appréciés que beaucoup. Nous avons semblé bien adaptés. Joan avait eu un certain nombre d'amis à long terme et quelques stands d'une nuit avant que nous nous soyons réunis mais nous le ’ d avons jamais vraiment parlé de eux. Nous étions très heureux ensemble et le fait que nous n'avons jamais discuté le sexe était parce que nous ne nous avons jamais sentis a eu n'importe quelle rai*** à.

Comme chaque mâle, le ’ d d'I a eu quelques imaginations mais je les avais gardées à me. On que je toujours avais été fasciné près était l'idée d'un mâle plus âgé et sexuellement dominant séduisant et baisant une épouse tandis que le mari observé, délaissé pour l'empêcher. J'avais lu des lettres à *** sujet dans des mags de porno et étais toujours devenu excited à la pensée bien que je pourrais ne jamais expliquer pourquoi. Quand je dis j'avais été toujours fasciné par elle, je signifie toujours. J'étais des années de l'adolescence en retard et le ’ t de hadn même a eu une amie quand j'ai lu le premier. Je me rappelle qu'il était au sujet d'un adolescent qui a présenté sa amie à un type qu'il a travaillé avec. Le type était dans ses années '60 et un vrais libertin et lui cornés ont séduit et ont baisé l'amie tandis que l'ami s'asseyait délaissé pour l'empêcher. Dans mes imaginations que j'étais toujours l'ami, observant ma amie donnez-vous à un vieil homme. J'ai mentionné ceci à ma première épouse mais à elle m'ai donné un regard très étrange et je jamais ne l'ai encore mentionné à la sa ou à Joan. Avant que j'aie eu trente-huit ans j'avais assez bien oublié lui.

Environ une année après être arrivé en Australie nous allions sur un nord de tourisme de vacances de Sydney. Quelques semaines avant que nous soyons partis je lisais un livret sur ce qui était disponible dans les différents secteurs quand j'ai noté qu'il a décrit une plage à distance de nudiste près du premier endroit que nous resterions. Vous avez dû avoir une commande à quatre roues ou être disposé à augmenter pour qu'une demi-heure lui obtienne. L'idée de pouvoir regarder fixement les femmes nus mûrs était très attrayante ainsi j'ai mentionné que la plage à Joan et dite lui pourrait être amusement à aller lui donner un essai. Elle ’ t vif mais moi de wasn a continué à évoquer le sujet et elle s'est par la suite radoucie, dire elle irait me maintenir heureux, mais seulement une fois.

Par la suite le jour est arrivé et nous avons conduit à une tache voisine et avons garé notre voiture puis augmenté le long d'une plage presque abandonnée, au-dessus d'un promontoire rocheux avant de venir à la plage de nudiste qui doit avoir été moitié par mille long, exposé à l'océan et avec un bout droit profond de hautes dunes de sable le soutenant. Il y avait probablement environ vingt per***nes à l'extrémité que nous avons sortie à, toute la nudité avec des âges s'étendant de leurs années '20 à leurs années '60. À l'extrême inverse de la plage je pourrais voir plus de per***nes et de commandes à quatre roues. Puisque nous étions un peu timide nous avons accepté de marcher quelques cent yards vers le haut de la plage et d'entrer quelques yards dans les dunes de sable. Nous avons trouvé que ce que j'ai pensé étais une bonne tache, dans une immersion entre quelques hautes dunes mais toujours assez haut ainsi nous pourrions regarder vers le bas sur la plage mais ne pas être vus de elle. Riant et très le rouge s'est posé à nous a dépouillé et fixe sur une vieille feuille que j'avais apportée pour le but. Pas beaucoup s'est produit, quelques per***nes a marché le long de la plage ainsi j'ai eu le plaisir du regard ébahi à quelques femmes avec l'abondance du peu bancal gentil mais c'était à *** sujet. J'ai essayé d'obliger Joan à regarder les per***nes mais elle l'a dite le ’ t de wasn intéressé.

Après environ une demi-heure je reposais le regard vers le bas sur la plage avec Joan se trouvant sur elle en arrière près de moi. Elle était revêtement à partir de la plage et a eu *** chapeau au-dessus de *** visage pour le protéger contre le soleil. J'était légèrement frottant *** sein et se demander si je pourrais parvenir à la persuader que me toucher et masturbate peut-être même me quand j'ai tourné et ai réalisé il y avait un homme tenant sur une haute dune environ trente yards au côté de nous. Il regardait vers le bas la plage et dehors l'océan mais toutes les quinze ou vingt secondes où il tournerait et regarderait vers le bas sur nous. Il doit avoir été environ soixante-cinq années, était presque chauve, et il avait dépensé beaucoup de temps sur la plage parce que sa peau était une brun-rougeâtre foncé et semblé dure et sèche. Il était d'environ six pieds - de grand et et il a fait attacher une serviette autour de sa taille mais vous pourriez voir *** ’ t de wasn d'estomac qui beaucoup plus petit que *** coffre de baril. Le reste de lui a regardé la même chose, le cou épais, les bras pleins et les jambes qui ont rendu les miens le sembler faible. Un vrai tronc d'arbre d'un type.

Je dois avoir fait une pause dans ma course parce que Joan a soulevé le chapeau, m'a regardé, et a demandé ce qui était erroné. Je suis parvenu à coasser au sujet d'un vieil homme se tenant sur une dune voisine nous observant. Elle m'a donné un regard étrange puis a fermé ses yeux et a mis le chapeau au-dessus de *** visage encore. Quand j'ai demandé pourquoi elle avait fermé ses yeux qu'elle a dit cela si elle le ’ t de couldn le voient, il le ’ t de wasn là. Il y avait une longue pause alors que sa main a été soulevée et a touché mon coffre. Elle m'a dit que mon coeur emballait. Le ’ t du didn I savent quoi me dire ainsi a maintenu silencieux. Le ’ t du couldn I l'expliquent, mais j'ai aimé le type étant là. Par la suite elle a pris sa main à partir de mon coffre. J'ai pensé elle allait me dire que pour ignorer lui mais elle m'a étonné en disant que si je voulais, je pourrais lui dire ce qu'il faisait. Elle écouterait mais elle regard du ’ t de wouldn.

L'idée qu'elle pourrait vouloir qu'elle continue m'a donné un sentiment étrange et creux. Elle était totalement différente à quelque chose que j'avais éprouvé avant. Il était si intense que j'aie senti la lumière dirigée et le ’ t de didn d'I pour savoir si j'allais m'évanouir ou être malade. J'ai retourné à frotter ses seins mais j'ai graduellement commencé à faire plus d'une exposition de elle. Ses seins ***t un peu disque souple et je les ai déplacés autour d'un peu, les serrant et taquinant ses mamelons. Il doit avoir été évident à Joan ce que je faisais mais elle le ’ t de didn disent n'importe quoi et le fait que ses mamelons étaient roche dur encouragée m'à continuer. J'ai maintenant ignoré la plage, regardant alternativement vers le bas des seins du ’ s de Joan et me lève à l'homme sur la dune de sable. Il n'y avait aucune prétention de lui regardant dehors l'océan maintenant, il avait tourné pour nous faire face et regardait fixement à travers et vers le bas nous. ’ t du wasn I sure ce que je devrais faire ou même ce que j'ai voulu. La vérité est moi était sortie de ma profondeur et je l'ai sue. Joan et le type étaient probablement plus relaxed que j'étais. Ne sachant pas quoi faire, j'ai continué à frotter ses seins et ai prolongé certaines des courses vers le bas dessus à *** estomac et jambes.

Il doit avoir apprécié l'exposition parce qu'après que quelques minutes il ait délié la serviette de sa taille et l'ait drapée au-dessus de ses épaules. Après un moment de nous observer et de toucher de temps en temps *** pénis il a allumé le côté ainsi je pourrais voir qu'il a décrit contre le ciel. *** ’ t de hadn de pénis a semblé que grand jusque-là (j'avais jamais vraiment vu un autre pénis excepté dans un magasin) mais latéral là-dessus a regardé énorme pendant qu'il accrochait vers le bas sous *** ventre, contractant pendant qu'il commençait à venir droit. L'homme a regardé fixement moi comme il a utilisé sa main pour jouer avec elle et pour la rendre plus grande. J'ai obtenu le sentiment que c'était une certaine sorte de chose de défi, cela peut-être je devrais montrer au loin mon propre robinet, mais s'il était j'ai échoué. Tout que je pourrais faire était de continuer de frotter des seins du ’ s de Joan car j'ai regardé sa construction et ai rapporté fixement ce que je voyais à Joan. Je ne l'oublierai jamais, il étais le ’ d de l'expérience le plus incroyable I ai eu. Un certain instinct m'a indiqué que cela si ceci maintenait aller ce il allait exercer un effet permanent sur notre mariage. Un effet durable sur moi. Je pourrais sentir ce désir profond chez moi, un ’ t de didn d'I comprends mais qui m'a consommé avec *** mal. Celui qui il ait été, j'ai su que j'étais désespéré pour qu'il apprête. Ce retentit mélodramatique, mais lui le ’ T. de wasn. Je me rappelle toujours Joan, avec *** chapeau au-dessus de *** visage, mettant sa main sur mon coffre encore comme j'ai décrit *** robinet crispé. Elle m'a dit que mon coeur emballait et je devrais calmer vers le bas si le ’ t de didn d'I veulent une crise cardiaque. Il pourrait sembler étrange mais l'excitation était si intense qu'au lieu de gagner une construction je me sois rétréci. J'étais vers le bas environ à trois quarts de pouce et il a regardé plutôt un clitoris surdimensionné qu'un robinet.

Pendant que le ’ t de hadn de Joan s'opposait à moi lui disant au sujet de lui enlevant sa serviette et décrivant *** robinet à elle, j'ai supposé elle a voulu que les choses continuassent ainsi j'ai déplacé ma course au delà de ses seins. Ceci a donné à l'homme la confiance et il lentement s'est déplacé plus étroitement jusqu'à après qu'environ dix minutes il ait reposé environ six pieds à partir des pieds du ’ s de Joan et ait regardé fixement entre ses jambes ouvertes pendant que je glissais un doigt dans et hors de *** chat humide. *** robinet, qu'il frottait lentement, était une couleur rouge-foncé et a été couvert dans de grandes veines en avant. Il était aigu à la tête et a été élargi à une base très épaisse avec une paire de grands testicules accrochant au-dessous de lui et doit avoir été entre de près de huit pouces de long. À moi, il a regardé presque mauvais.

Comme j'ai dit, je n'avais avant jamais vu un vrai robinet dur. J'avais vu que les images dans les mags et moi avions lu quelle taille moyenne était mais je n'avais jamais vu un de la vie réelle. Je n'ai jamais réalisé juste quelle quantité de différence là était. Je devrais expliquer qu'au plein bout droit mon propre est quatre et des demi-pouces long, tout à fait mince et mes testicules ***t presque inexistants. J'avais toujours cru l'énonciation qui classent la matière du ’ t de didn mais regardant *** robinet j'ai réalisé que c'était un men***ge. Peut-être si vous le ’ VE obteniez profondément des six gentils et des demi-pouces et pouvez maintenir une construction, il pourrait être vrai mais tous vous le ’ VE obtenu est des quatre minces et des demi-pouces, taille compte. Elle compte beaucoup.

J'ai obtenu un vrai choc quand j'ai regardé ce robinet du ’ s de type et les boules et réalise elles étaient probablement taille normale et qu'était c'à ce que Joan aurait été employé avant qu'elle m'ait rencontré. Que c'était la sorte de robinet ma première épouse aurait après que nous ayons séparé. Pour la première fois j'ai compris que je m'étais trompé toute ma vie. Mon robinet était minuscule, mes boules rien plus qu'un peu de peau et de moi froissés n'a eu absolument aucune commande. Je suis habituellement venu dès que je l'ai mis dedans. Seulement un ” de weenie de “ peut comprendre ************ que je me suis sentie. La première fois que vous comprenez que vous pouvez être grand à tout autrement mais que vous ne pourrez jamais satisfaire une femme et là le ’ t d'isn une chose simple vous peut faire à *** sujet.

Je suppose que c'était inévitable que le gars finisse par prendre la relève. Il était assis en train de m'écouter en donnant à Joan une description détaillée de comment il caressait sa queue et comment il pouvait voir entre ses genoux levés et ouverts, comment il regardait mon doigt glisser dans sa fente humide. Le fait que Joan n'ait pas enlevé le chapeau pour qu'elle puisse prétendre que cela ne se passait pas s'ajoutait probablement à tout cela. Elle ne disait pas oui mais ses jambes étaient écartées et il pouvait voir à quel point elle était mouillée. Ma voix était rauque et craquait, j'étais tellement excitée et effrayée. J'étais proche des larmes à la réalisation de combien je voulais que ce grand vieil homme baise ma propre femme et comment sa fente humide était la preuve qu'elle le voulait. Je me souviens du regard arrogant qu'il m'a donné, comment il a regardé ma petite bite. Mon petit sac de boule froissé ressemblait à un ensemble de lèvres de chatte et mon pénis était un clitoris surdimensionné.

Il n'avait toujours pas parlé et, sans me demander la permission ou quoi que ce soit, il bougea vers l'autre côté de Joan et commença à lui caresser les seins et les jambes. J'avais toujours imaginé voir ta femme avec un autre homme aurait envie de regarder un film bleu, sexy mais contrôlé. La réalité était totalement différente. C'était plus comme être dégringolé par une énorme vague et tout ce que vous pouvez faire est de retenir votre souffle et espérer que vous survivrez. Voici ma femme très propre et bien élevée, allongée les jambes écartées, montrant sa chatte humide à un homme deux fois plus âgé que lui. Elle avait toujours le chapeau sur *** visage mais je lui avais donné une bonne description de lui alors elle savait qu'il était probablement plus vieux que *** propre père mais cela ne semblait pas réduire *** excitation. Je savais que je devrais probablement essayer de l'arrêter mais de toute façon je ne pouvais pas me résoudre à le faire. J'ai été pris dans un tel mélange de peur, d'excitation et ************ que, à ma manière, j'étais aussi humide et volontaire qu'elle l'était.

Quand il a commencé à la caresser elle a soulevé le chapeau de *** visage mais a gardé ses yeux fermés. Cela me parait bizarre, mais je lui disais toujours ce qui se passait et la scène que je décrivais maintenant était de m'agenouiller comme un bon petit domestique alors qu'il la regardait en frottant sa queue contre un de ses mamelons.

Après quelques minutes de lui frottant sa main sur sa chatte humide, elle ouvrit les yeux. Elle lui sourit alors qu'elle ouvrait ses jambes plus larges et posait une main sur sa queue. Je ne pouvais pas le croire, ma femme qui ne voulait pas aller à une plage nudiste était maintenant allongée en train de caresser la queue d'un vieil homme, un homme qui avait au moins deux fois *** âge et peut-être trente ans de plus que moi. À un moment, elle tendit *** autre main vers ma queue pour découvrir qu'elle s'était retirée en moi. Elle me donna une sorte de regard déçu et résigné avant qu'elle n'utilise la main pour caresser ses couilles pendant qu'elle pressait et tirait *** érection avec *** autre main. Le sentiment ************, d'abandon total et total était incroyable. En l'espace d'une vingtaine de minutes et avec très peu de mots, j'étais passé d'un mari normal à quelqu'un qui n'avait aucun pouvoir, aucun droit, rien. Et Joan et ce vieil homme le savaient. Mais la chose la plus étrange était à quel point c'était naturel, comme si c'était la façon dont les choses auraient toujours dû être pour moi, même dans mon premier mariage. Peu de gens comprendront, mais c'était comme si j'étais né pour le rôle.

L'homme se leva, brossa le sable de ses jambes puis se déplaça et s'agenouilla à califourchon sur sa tête pour que sa queue et ses couilles soient au-dessus de *** visage. Elle tenait *** érection dans une main pendant qu'elle embrassait et léchait ses couilles, ce qu'elle n'avait jamais fait pour moi. Il se pencha en avant et elle profita de l'occasion pour bouger sa bite jusqu'à sa bouche et commença à la sucer avidement. Il resta immobile pendant quelques minutes, appréciant la sensation alors qu'il utilisait une main sur sa chatte avant de se pencher encore plus en avant et de mettre sa tête entre ses jambes. Parce que ma vue était bloquée, je me suis déplacé un peu pour voir ce qu'elle faisait.

Parce qu'il était si loin en avant elle ne pouvait plus obtenir sa bite dans sa bouche et était maintenant embrasser et lécher la crête de la peau derrière ses couilles. Ses yeux étaient fermés et ses mains caressaient alternativement et agrippaient le dos de ses cuisses et ses fesses. Le mec a réussi à avancer de quelques centimètres et je me suis demandé si c'était sa chatte ou *** cul qu'il léchait. Tous les deux gémissaient, gémissaient et se caressaient d'une manière que je ne pouvais pas croire. Joan avait perdu tout contrôle, quelque chose que je n'avais jamais vu auparavant, et elle tremblait de spasmes occasionnels. Sa langue était très proche de *** anus et de la façon dont il bougeait *** corps, il était clair qu'il essayait de l'amener à la langue. Il a donné un autre petit mélange et je me suis détourné et ai regardé la plage pendant que sa langue et sa bouche se déplaçaient vers elle. Ce n'était pas que je trouvais ça dégoûtant, il avait visiblement été dans la mer à quelques reprises, donc il aurait été parfaitement propre si un peu salé et j'étais sûr qu'une langue sur un anus me ferait du bien. La rai*** pour laquelle j'ai refusé de regarder était mon ***********. Un vieil homme qui n'avait pas encore parlé un mot avait transformé ma femme en une salope totale en seulement vingt minutes. J'avais été avec elle pendant quatre ans, la moitié d'entre eux étant mariés, et je ne l'avais pas approchée de l'extase dans laquelle elle se trouvait. J'étais certaine qu'elle n'avait jamais eu le cul avant. Il se passa une minute avant que l'idée ne se produise que les quatre années qu'elle avait passées avec moi avaient probablement accumulé un peu de vapeur et que ce type l'avait relâchée. D'après ce que je pouvais voir, elle avait certainement perdu tout contrôle. La réalisation m'a rendue à la fois malade et exaltée.

Après quelques minutes, l'inévitable se produisit et il bougea, se positionnant entre ses genoux relevés. Parce que j'étais infertile, Joan n'était pas sur la pilule, ce qui avait été un avantage car elle n'aimait pas l'idée des effets secondaires. Le problème était que nous n'avions pas de préservatif et qu'il y avait un risque qu'il la rende enceinte. Je me souviens avoir pensé comment, parce que je n'avais jamais caché le fait que je ne pouvais pas avoir d'enfants, tout le monde savait que c'était l'enfant d'un autre gars. J'étais désespérée de lui rappeler et même ouvert ma bouche mais ma gorge était serrée et sèche et j'ai découvert que je ne pouvais pas parler. Il frottait sa queue de haut en bas dans sa fente humide et ça avait l'air méchant. Il était d'un pourpre foncé, couleur pourpre et avait la forme d'un épi, pointu mais très épais à la base. Les veines se détachaient toutes et lui donnaient un regard noueux. *** sac à balles était serré, soulignant la taille de ses testicules et je pensais à toute la graine qui devait y être stockée. Il ressemblait à un gros vieux taureau s'apprêtant à féconder une jeune vache.

J'ai regardé Joan mettre une main vers le bas et saisir sa bite, le tenant à sa chatte comme il a bougé au-dessus d'elle. Je m'attendais à ce qu'elle crie ou hurle en s'abaissant et en elle, sa bite était si grande, mais tout ce qu'elle a donné était un peu grognon comme elle a pris *** poids. C'était un autre choc. *** sexe était au moins trois pouces plus long que le mien et plus de deux fois plus épais, mais elle était tellement humide et excitée qu'elle a glissé sans problème. Joan avait les bras et les jambes enroulés autour du mec et avait l'air de sucer sa langue. Ils cessèrent de s'embrasser pendant un moment et je l'entendis gémir et haleter tandis que *** gros cul puissant enfonçait lentement sa bite dans et hors d'elle. À un moment donné, le gars a tourné la tête et m'a regardé fixement. C'était un regard vraiment méprisant, pas du tout amical, et je me suis recroquevillé à l'intérieur.

J'étais inquiet du bruit qu'ils faisaient et je me suis levé pour vérifier que per***ne n'était proche mais les gens les plus proches auraient été à une bonne distance de deux cents mètres. Quand je me suis accroupi, c'était à leurs pieds. La vue était incroyable. Ses couilles étaient serrées à chaque fois qu'il enfonçait *** gros cul et en baissant la tête je pouvais voir quelques centimètres de sa queue entrer et sortir. Le plus que j'aie jamais pu donner à Joan était un seul orgasme court mais à partir des ***s que je devinais elle roulait d'un orgasme à l'autre. J'entendais un bruit de squelette humide à chaque fois qu'il se retirait, une autre chose que je n'avais jamais entendue auparavant et j'avais envie de pleurer. J'avais trente huit ans et je ne faisais que découvrir ce qu'un vrai homme pouvait faire pour une femme. Et à moins qu'il ne l'arrache à temps, il risquait de tomber enceinte de lui. Je pourrais finir comme père de l'enfant d'un autre homme.

On dirait que j'aurais dit quelque chose, essayé de l'arrêter, mais je n'avais plus de volonté. A partir du moment où il s'était retourné et que j'avais vu *** sexe se profiler contre le ciel, le résultat avait été inévitable. Peu à peu, la poussée se fit de plus en plus profonde et sa respiration devint brusque et bruyante. À un moment donné, je pensais qu'il allait avoir une crise cardiaque (je pensais que j'allais en avoir un moi-même), mais *** cul a donné une poussée finale et il l'a tenue là. Je pouvais voir les petits carquois qu'il donnait en plantant chaque sperme de sperme au plus profond d'elle. Je me souviens de regarder ma propre queue mais il n'y avait pratiquement rien là. Mon estomac était creux et je tremblais des émotions mais l'excitation était interne. Ce fut le moment où j'ai eu mes premiers doutes sur moi-même. J'avais vécu ma vie en pensant que j'étais un homme mais ce type m'avait montré que je n'étais pas très proche. Bien que j'étais dominant dans ma vie normale, j'étais clairement le contraire quand il s'agissait de sexe. Wimp, sissy, soumis. Je ne l'aurais pas cru mais c'est ce que j'étais.

Je me suis éloigné pour voir leurs visages. Joan avait les yeux fermés et ils s'embrassaient, vraiment tendres et romantiques, et ses mains lui caressaient doucement le dos. Tout à coup, ils ont tous deux ri. Elle saisit *** cul et le tira vers elle et je devinais que sa bite sortait. Ils eurent un dernier long baiser lent, puis il se releva et s'en alla. Il se tenait là, sa queue à moitié molle et brillante. Je ne pouvais pas m'empêcher de regarder, même dans cet état c'était plus grand que le mien. Il m'a regardé et a ri en le remuant devant mon visage. Il dit à Joan, le premier et seul mot qu'il avait prononcé, prit sa serviette et partit.

Joan s'étendit avec les jambes écartées et les yeux fermés pendant une minute. Je pouvais voir une trace de *** sperme mais le reste devait être au fond d'elle. *** départ avait brisé le charme et quand elle ouvrit les yeux, nous étions tous les deux embarrassés. Elle a suggéré une immersion dans l'océan et j'ai accepté. Quand nous étions au genou, elle écarta les jambes et se servit d'une main pour écarter les lèvres de sa chatte afin qu'elle puisse ramasser de l'eau dessus. Les lèvres étaient rouge foncé et enflées, presque meurtries, et *** trou béait d'une manière que je n'avais jamais vue auparavant.

Après cela, nous avons quitté la plage et sommes retournés à notre motel. Bien que nous soyons polis l'un à l'autre nous avons à peine parlé. Deux à trois heures après l'incident, nous étions allongés sur le lit et je lui tendais la main. C'est tout ce qu'il a fallu, en quelques minutes, nous étions en train de nous baiser l'un l'autre. C'était le meilleur sexe de notre mariage, enfin le meilleur que je lui avais donné. Au moment même où je la baisais, une petite voix en moi indiquait combien le vieil homme avait été meilleur, comment elle avait été totalement décomplexée avec lui, comment elle avait un orgasme après l'autre avec lui. La meilleure baise de notre mariage et par rapport au vieil homme, j'ai probablement marqué un trois sur dix. Il a vraiment conduit à la mai*** comment sexuellement pathétique j'étais et encore j'étais proche des larmes.

Allongés tranquillement en se caressant après nous avons discuté de ce qui s'était passé sur la plage. Elle a expliqué qu'en gardant les yeux fermés, elle pourrait essayer de prétendre que c'était un fantasme que je fabriquais. Même si elle ne l'avait pas vu avant de se frotter les seins et qu'elle avait ouvert les yeux, elle pouvait dire que c'était réel. Elle a dit que ma voix craquait d'émotion et quand elle a mis sa main sur ma poitrine, elle m'avait vraiment craint d'avoir une crise cardiaque, mon pouls était si élevé. C'était le fait que j'étais si excitée qui l'a fait décider de ne pas essayer de l'arrêter.

Elle a dit qu'au moment où il a touché ses seins, elle était tellement excitée que ça n'avait pas d'importance ce à quoi il ressemblait et que quand elle ouvrait les yeux et trouvait un grand vieil homme avec une queue si dure c'était en fait plus excitant que s'il avait été plus jeune et plus attrayant. À partir du moment où elle l'a vu, elle savait qu'il allait l'utiliser, elle pouvait le voir sur *** visage. Le fait qu'il soit si grand, à la fois physiquement et sexuellement, rendait naturel qu'il lui plaise. Elle a dit que si elle l'avait rencontré ailleurs, elle ne l'aurait jamais regardé, mais j'avais fait un si bon travail de l'éveiller lentement jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit mouillée et glissante qu'elle avait désespérément besoin d'être baisée. Peut-être que si j'avais été dur, ça aurait été différent, j'aurais pu la baiser à la place de lui, mais mon agenouillement et le fait de ne pas avoir d'érection quand il était si gros et si dur, je voulais qu'il prenne le contrôle . Elle pouvait dire de mon visage que je voulais qu'il la baise. Au tout début, elle a décidé que si je voulais l'arrêter, je ferais quelque chose à ce sujet. Le fait que je ne dise jamais un mot, que je persistais à la caresser pendant qu'il se rapprochait, que je m'agenouillais pour avoir accès à elle seule, prouvait que je voulais que cela se produise. Je me suis assis silencieux, incapable de le nier.

Après quelques minutes je lui ai demandé pourquoi elle n'avait pas été surprise par la taille de sa queue. Elle hésita et dit que cela faisait longtemps qu'elle n'en avait pas touché une aussi grosse. Quelque chose à propos de comment elle a dit que ça ne ***nait pas vrai alors je lui ai demandé de la taille de *** petit ami et des autres hommes qu'elle avait connus avant qu'elle ne me rencontre. Elle a expliqué que certains d'entre eux avaient la taille du vieil homme, certains plus gros, d'autres plus petits. Certains avaient duré cinq à dix minutes, certains avaient duré une demi-heure. Le fait que j'étais plus petit que tous et ne durais pas plus d'une minute ou deux ne l'avait pas dérangée, elle m'avait épousé parce qu'elle m'aimait et aimait être avec moi. Ils avaient tous été super au sexe mais c'était tout. Elle a dit que c'était peut-être parce que le mec était si grand et vieux et qu'il n'y avait aucun attachement émotionnel qu'elle avait détendu et permis que cela arrive et oui, ça avait été bon de sentir une grosse bite en elle mais qu'elle n'aurait jamais J'ai triché sur moi pour l'avoir. Elle m'a aimé plus qu'elle n'a aimé le sexe. C'était les circonstances, chaud, déshabillé, moi étant là, gardant les yeux fermés, étant excité, me regardant, réalisant à quel point je voulais que le vieil homme la baise. Tout était juste pour ça. Elle avait réalisé qu'il y avait un risque de tomber enceinte mais à ce stade, elle était tellement excitée et désespérée qu'elle s'en fichait. Elle a décidé que je pouvais être le seul à m'en soucier.

Joan ayant été si honnête à ce sujet, j'admettai que j'avais été excité par le spectacle de lui nu et par la taille de sa queue et que je me sentais totalement impuissant et incapable de faire ou de résister à quoi que ce soit. Je lui ai dit que j'avais envie de m'agenouiller à ses pieds et de lécher sa queue quand je l'ai vu sortir d'elle, tout mouillé et collant. J'ai dit que cela avait été un choc car je n'avais jamais pensé à une telle chose auparavant, mais je n'ai pas pu m'en empêcher. Au moment même où je parlais, je réalisais à quoi cela ressemblerait, ************ de m'agenouiller là, remerciant le vieil homme d'avoir satisfait Jeanne en le léchant tout en regardant Joan. Juste l'idée de ça me rendait encore plus difficile et je pouvais à peine regarder Joan. J'étais tellement embarrassé par la vérité de mon désir, comme c'était évident pour ma femme. C'était ridicule, je n'arrivais pas à avoir une érection pour la satisfaire sur la plage mais je suis devenu dur dès que j'ai pensé à le lécher tout en le regardant. La chose étrange était que les sentiments et les désirs soumis que j'avais ne me semblaient pas dus à la taille de mon pénis ou que j'étais sexuellement inadéquat, c'était aussi comme si j'étais né ainsi. A genoux devant un autre mâle, c'était comme si cela aurait été tout à fait naturel. Avec le recul, je réalise qu'il n'y a rien que je n'aurais pas fait pour lui. Lécher *** cul, me permettre d'être fessée, n'importe quoi. J'étais un soumis, celui qui obéirait automatiquement à un mâle alpha, et je ne le savais pas.

Comme je l'ai dit, j'étais à nouveau dur, alors j'ai remis ma bite en elle et nous nous sommes couchés tranquillement, nous embrassant et nous caressant pendant longtemps. Nous avions beaucoup appris l'un de l'autre et je pense que nous essayions de nous y habituer. Étrangement, la connaissance n'a fait qu'augmenter le lien entre nous. Je suis sûr que nous pensions tous les deux à la possibilité qu'elle soit enceinte bien que nous n'en ayons pas parlé. Quelques semaines plus tard, sa période est arrivée et a réglé le problème.

C'était un an avant que nous soyons retournés à la plage. Nous avions eu une autre série d'expériences d'ici là, alors nous étions plus détendus quand le vieil homme s'est installé sur nous. Le seul changement était que Joan insistait sur lui en utilisant un préservatif. Il a pris du sable partout sur le premier et a passé *** doigt à travers la seconde. Avec un seul préservatif à gauche, j'ai pris une serviette et brossé doucement le sable de *** érection. Puis, avec les deux qui me regardaient, j'ai pris l'autre préservatif du paquet et l'ai roulé sur lui. Il se positionna sur elle mais ses mains étaient toutes de sable et il ne pouvait pas descendre et guider sa queue. Je vis le problème et sans même y penser je mis ma main entre ses jambes par l'arrière et, la saisissant, guidai dans la chatte de ma femme. La chose étrange était, aucun d'entre nous a parlé pendant que je faisais ceci. C'était seulement notre deuxième réunion mais nous avions atteint une compréhension complète. Je doute que beaucoup de gens comprendraient, mais il se sentait plus naturel d'atteindre entre ses jambes et de le guider dans ma femme que de mettre ma propre bite dedans.

Non, je ne l'ai pas léché après. A cause du préservatif, le désir n'était pas là, mais lors d'une rencontre ultérieure quand il s'était masturbé sur ses seins, je n'ai pas hésité à accepter l'invitation de ma femme à les lécher pendant qu'il regardait. Et non, je ne l'ai jamais baisée sur la plage. Nous avions une compréhension tacite que, sur la plage, elle était la sienne.

Wimp, sissy, cocu, masochiste soumis bi, quel que soit l'étiquette est appliquée n'a pas d'importance. La seule chose qui me bouleverse, c'est que j'avais trente-huit ans avant que cela n'arrive. Cela et le fait qu'il m'a fallu encore huit ans pour accepter que physiquement et pysochologiquement j'ai toujours été un weenie sexuel. Que je suis plus heureux de servir et d'obéir à de vrais hommes que d'essayer d'en être un moi-même.

Et c'est toujours la meilleure expérience de ma vie.

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Deep African Hell


A white couple travelling through Africa. An improvised
route, an unexpected destination: HELL. An American
woman, ****** of two as ********* and enslaved.
Abandoned in negro hands, in the gloomy lawless suburbs
of Lagos, Nigeria. A man's quest to free his partner. A
perverted spiral of transformation, blackmail,
********** and betrayal. With no holds barred, a white
woman's worst nightmare is just about to come true.

It was a relaxed, romantic evening at 'Old Bernardo's.'
Beautifully adorned with fresh flowers, the secluded
restaurant oozed a refined and sensual touch. As a
gentle, soothing music played in the background, the
amorous silhouettes of a number of couples flickered in
harmony as they happily sat at candlelit tables
chatting with verve and getting to know each other.

In his early thirties, average-looking and timid, Craig
looked ahead at the beautiful forms of the much older
woman sitting directly opposite him. Fiddling nervously
with a numbered badge stuck to his shirt, he took a sip
of his wine before asking her his next question. 'So
tell me Sheila, what is such an attractive lady like
yourself doing speed-dating?'

Blonde and sophisticated, Sheila was now in her early
forties. Enhancing her smile, she eyeballed Craig with
soft suggestion. She was definitely one of the best
looking women to be found that evening despite the
presence of many other younger females.

Holding a pen in her hand, Sheila replied sincerely, 'I
guess I've been single long enough now, I've finally
figured out that it's time to start dating again.'

Craig intervened, unable to contain his appreciation,
'Well, looking the way you are, I'm sure you'll find a
lot of attention here tonight. I, for one, think you're
stunning.' Sheila mirrored the gentleman's kudos. The
pair stared at each other with anticipation.
Perspiring, Craig felt his heart racing as his eyes
floated eagerly over the mature woman's body.

*

Six months later, true romance had blossomed. The pair
had met each others friends and families and nothing
seemed to trouble the serenity and solidity of their
now enviable rapport. On the verge of moving in
together, Craig and Sheila's lives resembled an
improbable fairytale. Lying on a hammock, they watched
some birds pecking at the grass. A red Volvo pulled up
the driveway. Jenny, Sheila's oldest ********, a pretty
blonde in her late twenties got out. She wore a formal
suit top with a hip-hugging short skirt. She carried
some grocery bags along the way to the house.

'Hi Mum. Hi Craig. Looking all cosy there aren't ya?'

'Don't we just?' replied Sheila, 'How was your day at
the office?'

'Oh, boring as usual. My feet are killing me.'

Craig hugged Sheila tight as he watched her ********
approach the house. Jenny bent down to pick up some
envelopes; her long legs flexing beautifully, her fair
skin stretching all the way down to her feet. Watching
Jenny close the door behind her, Sheila cuddled up to
her man.

'Oh, this feels lovely. I really didn't think things
would turn out the way they have. What with the age
difference and everything.' Craig stroked Sheila's
hair, amused, 'Are you joking?' ­he replied. 'No, of
course not. It's just that with me being much older
than you, divorced and, well, a ****** of two, I
imagined that sooner or later something would go
wrong.'

'Honey please stop talking nonsense. The age difference
means absolutely nothing to me. I enjoy being with you
and that is what counts. Trust me.' 'Sorry if I keep
whining.' Sheila said tenderly, 'Yes, I do trust you,'
she moved her body closer, 'I guess we'll just have to
take every day as it comes.'

Craig lightened up as if relieved. 'Right. Now, about
this vacation. Have you decided?' Sheila intervened,
'Oh Craig, you don't have to,'

'Nope, I've made up my mind. Now come on, what's it
gonna be? Asia, Europe or a Safari?' he playfully
yanked her arm.

Sheila puffed a sigh of elated resignation, 'Okay,
okay. If you really and truly insist.' She smiled with
verve, 'I have to admit that the idea of a Safari
sounds absolutely wonderful!'

'A Safari it is then. Right, well I guess I can start
getting things sorted, tickets, transport, some new
sunglasses.'

'Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?'

'Without a doubt,' replied Craig. He placed a gentle
kiss on Sheila's lips.

A month later, the pair were standing next to the red
Volvo parked just outside the airport. Jenny was
unloading their luggage from the car helped by her
younger sister Christina. Christina was in her early
twenties, very pretty, silky blonde hair, tanned with a
firm, slinky body. 'Right, make sure you enjoy
yourselves and don't forget the sun lotion.'

'We will, petal.' Sheila replied. She caressed her
younger ********* cheek, 'Now make sure you behave and
try not to burn down the house, understood?' 'Have
faith ******.' Craig swiftly intervened, motioning
Sheila towards the entrance. 'Honey, we'll have to
hurry if you still want to do some shopping before the
flight.'

After giving a hug and a kiss to each of the girls,
Craig and Sheila head towards the airport. ­The Volvo
started to pull away. Sheila turned and waved goodbye
as her two ********* yelled enthusiastically from the
moving car, 'Have fun!!'

A mixture of orange, pink and yellow blurred together
majestically, The African sun slowly began to set over
the breathtaking landscape of deepest Congo. Craig and
Sheila held hands as the off road vehicle began to make
its way back from the wilderness of the African
outback. With the safari jeep in movement, Sheila sat
on Craig's lap. 'Oh Craig, this is such a beautiful
continent. I can't believe I never thought of visiting
it before.'

'Indeed it is,' replied Craig.

Sheila wrapped her delicate arms around him and nested
her face beneath his chin, 'I kind of wish this moment
would never end.' she sighed. 'Don't you worry honey,
there's plenty more to see. Trust me. I told you it
would be a holiday you'd never forget. We have many
more places to visit before we head back to the
States.'

'Really? Huh, the surprises just keep on coming.'

'Oh yes. Fear not, I've planned our route carefully. I
want us to see as much of Africa as we can.' Craig
extracted a map of the continent from his side pocket.
He started to point at their position, 'You see,
Central Africa is one of the most fascinating
territories on the planet. Its natural beauty is simply
unrivalled. At this moment, we are here.'

His finger fell on 'Congo.' He continued, 'I've
arranged for us to travel horizontally along this line.
Tomorrow we set off for Gabon. After that we'll cut
through Cameroon and Nigeria and, if I can arrange the
transport, hopefully we can then reach the Ivory Coast.
I've read that these territories are simply
breathtaking.'

Sheila looked surprised, 'Do you mean you have planned
every thing beforehand? How on earth did you do it?'
Craig crumpled his forehead before responding, 'Well,
to be honest, not every single thing. We may have to
improvise accommodation and transport when travelling
through Ghana, but hey, we both love a bit of adventure
don't we?' 'Uhm, I guess so,' replied Sheila, still
mesmerized by the passing wilderness.

Back home, Jenny placed her key in the front door lock.
Turning it without effort, she made her way through the
doorway after another hard day at the office. She threw
her bag on the sofa before heading to the fridge. She
took out a chilled bottle of mineral water and brought
it to her mouth. Gulping the iced liquid down, she
proceeded to flip off her shoes. As her delicate feet
met with the cold floor, she softly contracted her
toes.

Placing the bottle back in the fridge, the young woman
took off her jacket to reveal a slender, attractive
body beneath a flimsy pink cotton vest. Hardened by the
cold water flowing down her throat, Jenny's stiff
nipples pierced through her skimpy top like a couple of
jellybeans.

Feline like, she arched her back and stretched her arms
before bringing her hands to her waist and releasing
her belt. As her skirt fell to the ground, it revealed
a pair of long, smooth and well-toned legs. Her tender
ankles, her perfectly trim and shapely calves, her firm
and warm thighs leading up to a pair of tightly
adhering slips firmly clinging to her vaginal area.

Jenny's vaginal mound was swollen. It allowed the forms
of her moist lips to protrude through the clinging
fabric of her underwear whilst behind, her perfect
bottom cheeks sandwiched her skimpy panties with every
movement of her hips. She was indeed an incredibly
attractive young woman. Jenny allowed her body to drop
passively onto the couch.

With a melancholic look, she stared out the window,
losing herself in deep thought. She began thinking
about other places and other times. She tried to
envisage the future and what it could possibly bring.
Sadness taking over quasi, she tried to analyze her
life. Her life: a void, an intricate bundle of question
marks, of 'what if's.' Lifting her gaze, Jenny's mind
was suddenly engulfed by images from a faraway land.
Like a succession of polaroids, she began to see her
****** and Craig having the time of their lives; taking
photos of each other in front of a waterfall; embracing
one another at the top of a cliff observing the sun set
over the African horizon. Jenny's mind swirled with
chaos. A maze of loneliness, regret and confusion. She
gently closed her eyes, allowing the images to fade
away. She gradually relaxed her body and fell into a
deep *******.

Two weeks later and Sheila and Craig were snuggled up
at the back of an old coach headed towards the border
between Cameroon and Nigeria. It was late afternoon and
the sun allowed a last glimpse of its unique
orange/yellow light. As Sheila's eyes closed firmly,
Craig lifted his gaze and removed his sunglasses,
intent on studying the land passing before him. With
the old coach ******* forward and with darkness
creeping in, Craig's peaceful thoughts were slowly
replaced by growing doubts.

Looking outside, he unexpectedly saw the landscape
deteriorate before him. The progressive changes were
not for the best. Makeshift sheds, burnt down cars,
rubbish and broken glass, rusty bridges and holed
roads. The beauty of rural Africa with its wildlife and
natural sceneries were slowly replaced by the more
intimidating reality of suburban Nigeria.

******* and jerking, the old coach passed a sign which
read 'LAGOS.' The deserted territories of remote Congo
were now replaced by substantial herds of black people,
old cars and cheap markets. Craig turned to his left.
He noticed Sheila ******** and was soon relieved; happy
she had not witnessed the harsh features of that outer
area.

He turned his attention back to the window in an
attempt to take in as much of Lagos as he could. Many
tall buildings, hap-hazardly crammed together. Lots of
tight alleyways void of sunlight. Intense traffic,
streets buzzing with cheap cars and tacky old buses.
Watching the locals passing by, Craig stared at the
brute darkness of their skin. The blackest of the
Africans. His face straightened drastically, skeptical
about his choice of destination. He held the warm body
of his companion close to his as the coach entered the
old city.

It was late night. The couple entered a medium sized
hotel chamber. Immediately, Sheila appeared ecstatic,
to see, a bed. As Craig closed the door, she fell on to
the mattress and began to wriggle her arms and legs.
She stretched out her body and puffed up the cushions,
'At last! A real bed. Oh my god, I think I could *****
for days.'

'It's all yours honey,' Craig replied, as he began to
unfasten his suitcase belt.

A few hours later, Craig was sitting in the hotel room,
sipping on a Pepsi, working on a crossword. He slowly
lowered his magazine and lifted his gaze. He stared at
the delicate body of his travel companion spread out
over the bed, in front of him. Sheila lay across the
mattress, bare legged, without sandals. ­She wore a
baggy t-shirt, her panties firmly hugging her hips, her
slender thighs relaxed, her toes twitching slightly. In
her forties, Sheila was still a very attractive woman.
She had a very pretty face with a soft complexion
accompanied by a firm body and a flat tummy.

As the African heat swept the room, Craig's gaze
floated over her body, her arms, her legs. His mouth
watering, he took a deep swig of his coke. An erection
grew hard in his pants. His mind began to deviate as he
stared at the warm body of the mature woman in front of
him. He grinned mischievously as he caught a glimpse of
himself in the mirror. He first sighed, then murmured
to himself, 'You lucky bastard.'

It was noon the following day and Sheila was still in a
profound *******. Craig fastened his shoelaces then
scribbled a quick message on a piece of paper. He left
the note by Sheila's side before moving towards the
door and unlocking it. The piece of paper read: "Gone
to get some food for later, be back shortly, xx"

Amidst the hustle and clamor of the Nigerian streets,
Craig made his first real contact with the locals. He
entered a riveting market area as the sun scorched his
forehead. He took a cap from his side-bag and placed it
on his head. One by one, he absorbed the various aromas
of the products on sale: roasted vegetables, corn
sticks boiling in huge caldrons, bruised bananas and
other dodgy fruits darted frantically by hovering
flies. As potential souvenirs there were ******
statuettes carved out of wood, tribe drums and handmade
necklaces. There were secondhand clothes and scruffy
old rugs surrounded by flee infested dogs and bags of
rubbish.

Alone in such a place, Craig's emotions merged growing
levels of discomfort, anxiety and fear. Everywhere, he
saw tight crowds of black people, mainly men. He was
blatantly overshadowed by the surprising height of the
heavy and much more muscular blacks. Their dark skin
hardened without mercy by the scorching heat. The
locals had an intimidating effect on Craig as they
towered above him. Their eyes commanded a sense of
ruthless power and sheer fearlessness; their loud
shouts and obvious physical strength assigned them an
almost beastlike masculinity. The wilderness of the
African continent was now reflected in the sheer
primitiveness and untamed verve of its most natural
inhabitants.

After a quick tour of the market, Craig head back to
the hotel with a couple of bags of food. He had
purchased some rice and beans along with bottled water.
As he approached the entrance, he spotted a MARLBORO
logo in a shop just opposite. With his nerves playing
up on him, he was tempted to purchase some cigarettes.
Turning towards the shop, he soon noticed a group of
blacks sitting on a crumbling wall. They appeared rough
and rugged, many of them barefooted with dust-covered
feet and sweat-stained clothes. The men were laughing
and acting tough, breaking bottles and fist-fighting.
Craig thought twice about his smokes. He decided
against buying the cigarettes and headed into the hotel
instead.

Once inside, he spotted an arrowed sign on the wall
behind the counter; it read 'BAR.' Relieved, he
followed the arrow. He took a few turns and reached the
bar area, approaching the counter with a slight grin.
The bartender was a black man in his late thirties with
a pot belly and brownish-yellow teeth. He had a devious
look and an unfriendly face. At the sight of Craig, the
bartender straightened his back and puffed out his
chest. He eyeballed Craig in a menacing way. His eyes
studying the hated pale flesh of the white man in front
of him. Politely, Craig asked for some smokes, 'Hello,
could I get some Marlboros please.'

The bartender approached the counter, he scruffled his
face before unleashing a sigh of frustration. 'How many
you want?' he barked abruptly. Craig was surprised by
such a cold approach. He answered diligently, 'Just one
pack please.' The bartender slowly made his way to the
cigarette stand. Craig ****** an uneasy smile, 'Uhm,
could you tell me what kinds of beverage you sell
here?' The bartender looked confused as he placed the
cigarettes on the counter, 'What you mean?'

'I'm sorry, I mean do you just sell soft ****** or
******* too?' The bartender eyed Craig up and down,
still unhappy about the white man's presence, 'We sell
all kind of ******* here.' Craig smiled nervously,
'Wonderful. Well thank you for your help.' Still
confused, Craig paid for the smokes and headed back up
to his room.

The clock in the room showed 22.17 hrs. There were
bread leftovers, unfinished rice on plastic plates,
empty cups and scruffled serviettes scattered across
the table. Craig was slumped in a chair resting.
Sheila, finally awake, was stood alert at the hotel
room window observing the lights down below. She
appeared lively and cheerful, eager to discover her
surroundings. She approached Craig and nudged him
affectionately, 'Everything okay darling?'

'Yes, of course.' replied Craig, surprised by her
liveliness.

'Do you not want to get some rest?' he continued.

'Not really. I've been ******** all day.' Sheila moved
closer and sat on Craig's lap. She stroked his neck,
'To be honest, I could do with a ***** right now. And
to be fair, I think you need one too,' she placed her
hands on his shoulders, 'Look at you, you're all tense,
you need to loosen up. Did you enjoy yourself this
afternoon?' 'It was alright I suppose. Do you really
want to get a *****?' Craig looked doubtful.

'Oh please yeah, I haven't had one since we left the
States.' Craig looked at her with pitiful eyes, 'Well,
earlier I happened to buy some cigarettes from
downstairs. There's a bar and they definitely sell
****** and stuff.' Sheila's face brightened up. 'Great.
Just let me put some clothes on and we can go straight
down. I can't wait for a glass of wine.' She quickly
jumped up and head towards the bathroom. Craig watched
her warm body move gracefully in front of him. He
focused on the forms of her fleshy breasts bouncing
beneath her light t-shirt. A fresh erection grew hard
in Craig's pants, his mouth becoming watery once again.

The couple descended the stairway into the hotel lobby.
Craig began to look for the arrows conducting to the
bar. Holding Sheila's hand, he guided her down a first
corridor then a second. As the couple turned left they
were confronted with a large door, locked and bolted.
Above it there was a sign, it read: 'BAR.' A surprised
Craig quickly turned to Sheila, '****. I don't think
it's open.' A veil of disappointment immediately
covered Sheila's face, 'Oh no, I was really looking
forward to that *****. What time did they close?' 'I
couldn't say.'

As the baffled couple scouted for an opening times
notice, the bartender made his way out from a side room
with some keys, a mop and a bucket. Craig recognized
him immediately. 'Oh, excuse me sir, could you tell us
what time the bar closed?' Face to face with Craig, the
bartender's expression was once again covered with
anger. The black man's look nonetheless, slowly and
surprisingly, changed from a state of frustration to
one of excited delight within a matter of seconds.
Before him, the rare and arousing sight of a white
woman. Immediately, his eyes stretched wide.

The devious bartender quickly began to eye Sheila's
body. Her white flesh in strict contrast with his black
skin. His eyes eagerly studied her clothes. ­She was
wearing a light blouse, delicately covering her fleshy
breasts with a stringy silver necklace leading down to
her ample bust. The bartender scouted her smooth,
carefully shaved legs beneath a flimsy knee-length
skirt, leading down to a pair of beautifully shaped
calves. He looked at her tender feet, barely covered by
a pair of leather slip-on sandals. His tone of voice
appeared different from earlier. He was much more
polite and helpful. In a very courteous manner, he
addressed the couple, 'Very sorry, but the bar close
one hour ago.'

Craig turned to Sheila not knowing what to do. The
bartender, unseen by the two, resumed his ogling. For
some reason his eyes were led towards the large mounds
protruding from beneath Sheila's blouse. Moving
slightly to the side, it became evident to the
bartender that the white woman had a pair of
significantly large breasts. Although baggy, Sheila's
blouse was tucked in to her skirt; it revealed the
basic forms of her heavy bosoms. In truth, the white
woman's breasts had developed at a young age. They had
continued to swell with time, especially after a number
of years lactating her two *********.

Eying up the white woman, the bartender's eyes
sharpened, his lips tightened and a nasty smirk
revealed itself. His eye movements were almost erratic,
as if busy excogitating something. Discomfited, Sheila
held her partner's hand, 'That's a shame.' The
bartender rapidly intervened, 'Is okay, you no worry.
There is bar a few street down.' he said as he pointed
outside. A doubtful Craig checked his watch. It read
22.35 hrs. He looked at Sheila. She appeared hopeful
again. 'What do you think?' asked Craig. Sheila
appeared relatively content, 'Well, if it's not that
far. I suppose we could give it a try.'

As she approved the idea, the bartender began to smile.
His eyes lit up as he seemed to picture the idea. He
resumed his staring. He looked at the smooth white skin
of her arms, the tenderness of her neck and then,
again, down to her large bosoms.

'What's this bar called?' asked Craig.

'The 'Nwufoa Niger. Nice place, they sell all ******.'
replied the dodgy bartender.

'And you're sure it's only a few streets down?'

'Yes, not far.'

At this point, Sheila grabbed Craig's arm, 'Oh come on
Craig. We don't want this bar to close too.' Still
skeptical, Craig reluctantly agreed. The bartender's
grin extended. He began to give the couple further
indications, 'You go out hotel. Walk until end of road,
then turn right. After few minutes you come to smaller
road and turn left. You see sign for 'Nwufoa Niger.' Is
very easy. No problem.'

'Thank you, you've been very helpful,' replied Sheila.

As the couple moved towards the exit, the bartender
watched them leave. As they headed out into the African
night, his focus was centered on the white woman's
buttocks as they swayed smoothly and bounced firmly in
the sweltering heat. His eyes sharpening, the
bartender's grin turned into a lethal smile. ­His right
hand moved down to his pants and began to stroke his
hardened penis whilst his brownish teeth revealed
themselves fully from beneath his puffy, cracked lips.

Arm in arm, Sheila and Craig strolled down the main
street. The area appeared to be well lit and, in
comparison to daytime, very quiet. Craig's initial
concerns of leaving the hotel seemed to fade as the
couple proceeded down the road. Not a single car had
passed by, and the presence of the street lights had
made him more comfortable. As the couple reached the
end of the street, they saw a smaller turn to the
right. There were large buildings on each side of the
new street and their presence forbid the same degree of
lighting as the previous road. Much tighter than the
first, the new street brought all new doubts into
Craig's mind. He remained calm nonetheless and
continued as if indifferent.

As the couple proceeded for quite a distance down the
road, it appeared they were entering a different kind
of area, more industrial and slightly less welcoming.
As the area became darker and darker, Craig's concerns
resurfaced. The couple continued ahead. ­They
encountered mounds of rubbish, randomly appearing here
and there, piercing out from the darkness in front of
them. ­Plain areas of overgrown grass, surrounded by
rusty wired fences, were sandwiched between old
buildings. A new moon made visibility even trickier.

The pair came across a small alleyway, to their left.
It was dimly lit and seemed to wind into a narrow bend.
They could barely make out the blurry letters of a
scratched metallic sign, placed on a wall above an old
Coca-Cola logo and next to a lamp post. It read:
'NWUFOA NIGER.' Tired, Craig turned to Sheila, 'This
must be it. At last! The guy said it wasn't far. I'm
almost out of breath.' Sheila squeezed his arm, 'Well,
at least we found it. You can have a nice sit down
now.' The pair slowly started to head down the dark
alleyway.

A few yards away from the entrance to the bar, Craig's
heart unexpectedly began to drum. He saw rusty pipes to
the side of the building, old barrels and empty
bottles. In the bar's proximity, there was an old
streetlight flickering. It disclosed a small portion of
another street to the left, unnoticed by the couple.

There were a number of big old cars parked casually.
Many of the vehicles had no windows, some were without
bumpers whilst others had tacky, stained interiors,
scruffy leather seats with large holes revealing bits
of foamed sponge. As Craig got closer to the entrance
his nostrils were filled with a dire smell. A nasty
mixture of stale beer, urine and what he most
definitely recognized as cannabis. His mind commanded
him to leave.

As his doubts increased, he stopped in his pace. He
turned around to check his surroundings once more. He
soon noticed the nearby alleyway where the old cars
were parked. He spotted fading graffiti on a wall with
some scrappy scooters left beneath a rusty stairway.
Fearing for their safety, he finally decided they
should leave. As he turned back to Sheila, however, he
was astounded she was no longer by his side.

Craig looked ahead, concerned. The bar's main door was
wide open. He could see broken tiles on the floor,
leading down a tight corridor, badly lit by a couple of
small wall lamps. To his surprise, Sheila was already
half way down the dark corridor, waiting for him to
join her. He looked at her in astonishment. She stared
back with an innocent smile, 'Come on lazy, don't give
up now.' ­she said, 'A few more steps and you can sit
down.' In a state of drained numbness, Craig moved
towards Sheila.

Without even thinking about it, he found himself
alongside her, halfway down the dark corridor, walking
towards a second, larger door. As the couple opened the
second door they were confronted with a very dark and
smoky atmosphere. There was a second corridor, long and
narrow, defined by two sidewalls which eventually led
up to the main bar area at the corridor's end, forming
a capital 'T.' The corridor partitions only allowed to
see that which was directly in front: the bar counter.

As the pair moved towards the bar, they noticed a tall
black man, rather scruffy, with a sweaty forehead and
unkempt beard, behind the counter, wiping its surface.
Lifting his head slightly, his action came to an abrupt
halt. Shocked, his attention was hooked ferociously on
the white woman daring to enter the local. Incredulous,
his vehement look scanned her entire body. Up and down,
very slowly, his eyes viciously studied her white
flesh, her arms, her legs. He noticed the smooth
swaying of Sheila's chest, her breasts bouncing
slightly with each step taken.

As the couple got closer to the counter, the corridor
partition slowly came to an end. A few more steps and
the pair were in the main bar area. His heart pounding,
Craig tried to focus on his surroundings. Amongst the
smoke and darkness of the local, he could hear many
voices in the background. As the couple reached the
counter, the droning rumors from behind suddenly came
to a halt.

Facing the counter, Craig looked at the barman. Almost
patronizing, the barman grinned down at Craig and
started to shake his head in disapproval. He took
another good look at the white woman and then, smiling,
he eyeballed Craig as if he were staring at a fool.
Mesmerized, Craig followed the black man's glance, his
heart beating, his ***** freezing.

The barman looked at Craig before looking beyond, over
the white man's shoulders. His grin suddenly turned to
laughter. Following the barman's glance, Craig slowly
turned around. His heart stopping, he started to feel
his knees tremble. Amidst the semidarkness of the
local, Craig could see two smoke-filled ******** areas
to each side of the long corridor. He suddenly heard a
terrifying roar from all around. As he adjusted his
focus, he felt his heart in his throat. ­Before him a
frightening scenario.

The local was filled to the brim with dozens of large
black men. From left to right, Craig could see nothing
but tall, bulky negros all ******** and laughing. Their
intimidating aura told him everything. The big blacks
seemed rough. They looked dirty and unkempt, definitely
belonging to the poorer areas of the city. All around
there were beer bottles and rolled up cigarettes, un-
emptied ashtrays and broken chairs. The majority of
them were wide-shouldered and lanky. He could see
sweat-soaked vests and tacky thong-sandals. Large
tattoos and thick collar chains.

The steamy body smell from the ******** area soon
reached Craig. A revolting mix of sweaty armpits along
with a nasty wave of cannabis smoke and other
substances unknown to the white man. Many of the blacks
were bare-chested, revealing hard muscles and strong
upper-bodies. Craig quickly turned back to the barman.
Shaking to his core, he remained speechless. He looked
down, petrified. Suddenly, he remembered about his
companion. He immediately turned to his right.

Sheila was standing immobile, already afraid to move.
She was closely surrounded by four large blacks, the
men towering above her. Her delicate white flesh in
strict contrast with the rough dark skin of the negros.
She glanced nervously at Craig before lowering her head
once again. Her shaking body was now the center of
attention of the entire local.

Craig looked around. Dozens of blacks were now
surrounding them. The ­negro eyes fixed on the white
woman, they stared at the thick mounds beneath her
blouse, at her tender neck, at the smooth skin of her
slender legs, at her delicate feet and toes. Blushing
with shame, Sheila looked up. She saw the rugged,
powerful features of the blacks carefully studying her
body, their eyes constantly focusing on her voluptuous
breasts. She tried to cross her arms in order to cover
her bosoms; her flimsy blouse appeared slightly damp
due to the long walk.

Craig looked ahead petrified. He saw Sheila completely
surrounded as more and more negros approached the bar.
For a split second, he too looked at Sheila's gorgeous
body, her swollen breasts protruding from beneath her
blouse. He noticed the barman laughing with the other
blacks: he now realized just how dangerous the
situation had become. He had to do something, he
thought unconvinced.

With all reason abandoning him, Craig rushed towards
Sheila and, with a rash movement, tried to grab her
arm. As he started to pull her towards him, there was
the sound of a large thump.

Instantly, a heavy black hand smacked Craig across the
face. Within a few seconds, another black fist came
violently from the opposite direction, striking the
terrified white man. Craig tumbled to the floor. He was
soon surrounded by half a dozen blacks. He was kicked
and bruised, beaten without mercy as ***** trickled
from his mouth and across his forehead. Sheila screamed
in desperation, 'NO! STOP!!' she yelled. To no avail
she quickly saw more fists and more kicks battering her
poor companion.

Large parts of Craig's face were now purple, his lips
badly cracked, his shirt torn. Left lying semiconscious
in a puddle of *****, Craig's vision became blurry. He
struggled to keep his eyes open. His vision alternating
from a state of hazy confusion to total darkness. He
could barely make out the figures surrounding him. In
complete confusion, he felt his hair being grasped by a
strong hand. His head was roughly jolted upwards as he
felt other hands grabbing his wrists and ankles. He was
lifted up, almost without effort, by three of the wild
thugs. They began to head towards the long corridor.

As Craig was dragged away, he tried to raise his
wounded head. With ***** trickling and his vision
deteriorating, he struggled to understand what was
happening. He looked towards the bar counter. He could
see the broad shoulders of the large crowd. The blacks
were cheering wildly and laughing unhinged. He suddenly
caught a glimpse of Sheila's face amidst the crowd. His
heart missed a beat.

He saw a huge black hand ********** wrapped around her
mouth. With terror invading her entire body, Sheila's
eyes darted frantically back and forth as she
desperately tried to free her self. As he was dragged
away, Craig's visual was interrupted by the hectic
movements of the crowd. When he caught a second glimpse
he saw one of the larger blacks violently holding
Sheila from behind. His gargantuan left hand covering
her face whilst his bulky right arm was **********
wrapped around her waist. The savage blacks started to
jeer like ******* as the large negro squeezed his right
arm deeper into her tummy. Sheila's voluptuous breasts
quickly expanded, stretching her blouse, as if they had
been pumped.

As her skimpy blouse struggled to contain her large
bosoms, another negro approached her with a pocket
knife held loosely amongst his chunky fingers. Craig's
vision was once again covered by the crowd. Petrified
by what he had just seen, he started to struggle,
kicking and jerking. ­He was dropped to the ground.
Instantly, he turned his head back towards Sheila. As
the crowd opened up, he saw a large negro's tongue
********** invading Sheila's mouth, sweeping deep
inside.

The white woman's eyes, nonetheless, focused downwards,
towards her chest. Her pupils dilating, she appeared to
be panicking. In fact, her skimpy blouse was barely
covering her large breasts, as all but one of her small
buttons had been removed. The small pocket knife easily
approached her neck. It ran slowly over her flesh, down
past her silver necklace and then further down, towards
the last button of her blouse. Craig was once again
lifted up. In a final struggle, he looked back towards
the bar. He got a final glimpse of Sheila. In
desperation, he saw her arms aggressively pulled out to
her sides. The black man behind her now keeping her
firmly immobilized as his right arm aggressively
squeezed her tummy.

For a split second, Craig saw two large hands
ferociously grasping at Sheila's blouse as if to pull
it open. The thick hands clasped the blouse just below
the collar. Craig looked ahead incredulous.

Suddenly, he saw the large black hands violently rip
Sheila's blouse wide open. Immediately, the white
woman's huge breasts tumbled out. Billowing outwards,
they swayed from left to right revealing a pair of
surprisingly swollen, milky nipples. The deranged
blacks stared ahead at her beautiful breasts. They
trembled, plump and ripe. Her thick nipple-heads
heaving outwards.

As Sheila's bosoms swayed gently, her protruding
nipples met with the surrounding atmosphere, they began
to harden. The black man behind her temporarily
loosened his grasp on her waist. Her tummy slowly
retracted as her chest expanded. Her eyes flickering,
Sheila gasped for air. With her entire body trembling,
her heaving breasts bounced up and down. As her tummy
went in and out, her swollen nipples got harder and
harder. Sheila's shuddering breasts were now totally
exposed.

As the crazed blacks closed around her, Craig was once
again lifted. As his head flopped, his vision turned to
darkness. He was almost ***********. ­A few yards away
from the door, he struggled one final time. In vain.
­He was unable to lift his head. With ***** dripping
from his face, he suddenly heard some desperate
screams. With all his energy, he tried to lift his
head.

Sheila screamed in terror, 'No!!' Craig lifted his head
one last time, he focused on the crowd. His vision was
completely covered. Suddenly, a small gap opened,
allowing a partial view. Craig tried to adjust his
focus. He was shocked, he caught a glimpse of the back
of a negro's head.

Suddenly, the head moved to one side. It revealed a
devastating scenario one of Sheila's large breasts, in
fact, was being squeezed and fondled by a big black
hand. A long thick tongue soon rolled out and within a
fraction of a second, one of Sheila's swollen nipples
and almost a quarter of her large breast were being
ferociously sucked in by the negro. Craig looked ahead
incredulous. He saw his companion's milky breast being
sucked in deeper and deeper as the black man's saliva
dribbled down her slender tummy, now drawing in and out
even faster.

Sheila's breathing grew deeper and heavier. Another
black hand aggressively cupped and massaged as much of
Sheila's fleshy mounds as it could. Her face was
petrified. She was teary-eyed, with the large black
hand still cupping her chin and mouth.

As the ferocious sucking continued, Sheila's nipples
became harder and harder. They protruded out, on full
display, for every negro to watch. Sheila looked down
at her breasts being manhandled with such cruelty.
Utter *********** now overwhelmed her. She was
completely helpless, totally surrounded by the fierce
crowd. Looking down at her, their eyes focused on her
exposed breasts, now shuddering totally unrestrained.

Her hardened nipples attracted the ****** laughter of
the blacks. Her breasts swaying in front of everyone,
she appeared totally degraded. Feeling his heart in his
throat, Craig watched the crowd close up one last time.
His vision deteriorating, it suddenly turned to
darkness he was ***********.

When he awoke, Craig felt like he had been to hell and
back. He slowly regained his eyesight and was presented
with a dark and blurry vision of an unknown street. He
was lying on the floor. His clothes stained and ripped,
his face dirty with dust and dried *****. He was
surrounded by rubbish, old cardboard and broken glass.
As his hearing gradually began to return, he heard a
deep, harsh voice coming from a distance. It was a
man's voice. It spoke imperfect English, with a strange
accent. A tough mixture of African, French and some
other dialect, 'You okay?'

Craig slowly opened his eyes. He started to blink,
trying to adjust his focus. He saw the heavy figure of
a black man approaching. He appeared to have a shaved
head and a thick moustache arched ponderously over a
cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was in fact an
extremely heavy and bulky black man. Perhaps in his
mid-forties, maybe more. Impressively tall, wide upper
arms, but with quite a belly.

He had the body features of a heavy worker. He had a
face signed by time as a number of wrinkles had started
to creep in whilst a fading scar ran horizontally at
the height of his neck. The large black man looked down
at Craig, confused, 'I say you okay?' His big black
hand nudged Craig. It was very rough, with thick
fingers and what appeared to be extremely short, yellow
stumps instead of nails.

Craig appeared totally disorientated. He began to study
his surroundings not knowing where he was. The big man
towered above him. 'Hey, you understand what I say?.'
Craig blinked frantically. He started to panic. 'Where
am I?' he blurted out as he struggled to get to his
feet. In vain. He collapsed in a messy heap next to the
rubbish. He looked up at the black man trying to figure
out what to do. 'What you do here?!'

Craig gazed up in a state of confusion, 'Who are you?'
he asked. 'I pass by. I see you on floor. My name is
Mbuji.' Craig looked beyond the black man. He saw a
scrappy old car. Its engine running, its door wide
open. Mbuji soon raised his voice. 'What fuck is happen
you!' he yelled. Craig brought his fingers to his
bruised face. With pitiable eyes, he stared at the
black man. His hands shaking, his face swollen.
Defeated, and with a weakened voice, he pleaded humbly
'I need some help.'

It was late night. ­Craig was now sitting next to Mbuji
in his tacky old car. The vehicle parked next to an
unused railway line, in the proximity of an old metal
depot, just outside Lagos. Wiping his forehead with a
scruffy rag, Craig's hands were still shaking. He was
silent. With a cigarette placed between his thick
fingers, Mbuji swigged at a bottle. It appeared to be
whisky. He turned to Craig as if about to lose his
patience, 'So, you tell me what is you name?'

Craig lifted his head, 'My name is Craig.'

'You American?' said the large black man.

'Yes, American. Are you?'

Mbuji laughed sarcastically, 'Huh, I no American.'

'So you're Nigerian?'

'No. I from the Senegal, but I live here. Have worked
all over place though. Cameroon, Sudan, Guinea, even
the Botswana.

'What do you do?' Craig asked weakly.

'I am oil worker. Been here for seven years.'

Mbuji spread out his large black hands. He looked down
at them, showing Craig his palms. 'Is heavy work,' he
continued, 'Long hour, no much time for rest.' Craig
stared down at the yellowish palms of Mbuji's large
callous hands. Confusion taking over, he turned away.
Still trembling, he looked out the window into the
darkness; fear nested firmly in his eyes. Mbuji fixed
him with an impatient stare. ­His tone of voice was
abrupt and very masculine, 'So what fuck is happen to
you? And what you do in street after dark?'

Craig lowered his head. 'This is no place for white
person. You try get ****?' Craig looked at his watch.
With the sky at its darkest, he could barely make out
the time. ­The watch read 01.47 hrs. He looked down at
his bruised hands and ****** trousers. He turned to
Mbuji in desperation, 'Listen, I need your help. You've
got to help me find someone.' 'Who?' replied Mbuji.
'You've got to help me find my woman.'

'Woman? What woman?' ­asked the big Senegalese. A
dejected Craig continued, 'Earlier, I took my woman out
for a *****. We ended up in this bar and,' Craig's
hands began to shake again, 'I got beat up real bad and
lost consciousness. They must have thrown me out and
dumped me down that street where you found me. Mbuji's
eyes lit up. 'What about woman?' he said sharply.

'I couldn't say. My memory is blurry but I'm afraid
Sheila may still be there.'

'Sheila?!' Mbuji replied intrigued. 'Wait, you talk
about WHITE woman?!'

'She's white. Yeah,' replied Craig.

Mbuji's face radiated sadistically. His nostrils
flaring, his pupils dilating. His eyeballs flickered
they were of a nasty yellowish color, cracked with tiny
veins. Sitting next to an oblivious Craig, the large
Senegalese had found a sinister pleasure in what he was
hearing. The thought of an attractive white woman
instantly swelling a large bulge in his pants.

Mbuji remained quiet for a while. He looked out into
the darkness. His eyes fully alert. He stared at the
old metal depot. Its windows smashed. Its roof half
collapsed. He could see the leftovers of a burnt down
van. It was without wheels and missing a side door.
There were some slashed tires on the ground with
overgrown grass piercing through them along with a
large stack of rusty metal beams now covered in
graffiti. Mbuji brought his attention back to Craig
'You remember what bar called?'

Craig crumpled his bruised forehead trying to remember.
'Uhm, the 'Nwufoa Niger' I think. Do you know it?'
Mbuji's eyes stretched further. He appeared
conveniently appalled as he heard the local's name. He
looked at Craig in a condescending manner. He addressed
the imprudent white man, 'Wait. You tell me that you
bring white woman into the heart of Africa, take her
out in middle of night and then left her all by self in
nasty bar for blacks, in very dangerous area?!?'

Dejected, Craig nodded his bruised head. He brought his
trembling hands to his face and covered his eyes as his
body sank into the seat. Guilt enveloping him, he
appeared a broken man. Mbuji turned towards his window.
A spiteful grin grew heavy on one side of his cheek. He
looked downwards, towards his waist. His large thighs
overstretched the beige fabric of his cotton trousers.

Sandwiched between his thighs, grew the prominent,
thick shape of what appeared to be an extremely long
and heavy penis. The thick rod began to twitch
********** from beneath the fabric. Its impressive
proportions becoming slowly obvious. The large black
man was in a state of complete arousal. Unseen by
Craig, he slowly brought his hand down to his groin.

As sweat gathered on his forehead, Mbuji's bulking hand
started to squeeze his prominent bulge. ­He lifted his
heavy balls and with his yellowish palm began to stroke
his long shaft hidden beneath his trousers. Craig
looked out into the darkness. His fear growing tenfold
as his vision scouted the old railway line it led to
nowhere.

As the sweltering heat swept through the open vehicle,
Craig turned back to Mbuji. 'So do you know the place
or not?' he said with the voice of a broken man. Mbuji
appeared serious. His face stone cold. He nodded his
head. 'Listen. Let me ask question. This woman, is she
you wife?'

'No.' replied Craig, 'We haven't been seeing each other
that long.'

'Good.'

Craig was immediately confused, 'What do you mean?'

'You are very stupid man.' continued Mbuji. 'You want
serious advice? Go back to you hotel. Lock the door.
And then start pray for the sun to go up,' Mbuji
eyeballed Craig with an intimidating look, 'then
tomorrow, you buy ticket for plane and get fuck out of
here. You understand?'

'What are you talking about?' cried Craig, 'I can't
leave her here.' Mbuji appeared frustrated, 'Listen me
fool. By now, you woman is already dead.' Craig's face
deflated. 'What do you mean?' he asked drastically.
Mbuji fixed him, 'Listen, you have any idea of how
dangerous here is? I have see gangs of blacks ******
adult men. Cut his throat and left for dead!' Craig's
face sank further. 'You hope she alive?' continued
Mbuji, 'You no realize that most all black man here
have no see a white woman in the flesh before? You
imagine if these men got chance to use their penis on
white woman?'

Craig's bruised head began to ache badly. His heart
thumped away in what seemed to be a hollow chest, his
stomach gurgled violently. He looked up at Mbuji, 'Are
you saying that right now, she could already be, dead?'
'Is very possible.' replied the big Senegalese. 'I ask
you question is the white woman have good body?' 'Well,
yes, she does.' Craig replied innocently. 'And this
bar, when you go, is it full or no full?'

'I can't remember that well. It was quite dark, but
yeah it was pretty full.'

'In this case, there is chance woman is still be alive.
But, is maybe better for her if she dead!' Craig's
disarray increased. 'What do you mean?' he said
nervously. Mbuji continued without mercy, 'Very easy.
The more the woman have good body and the more the
black man there is, this mean that your lady is left
alive for much longer time. If they pushing the penis
into her holes they are not slit the throat.'

Craig's desperation turned to numbness. Unable to move,
he stared down at his ripped trousers. Mbuji appeared
completely untroubled. He resumed his severe lecture,
'But, like I say, if she dead or she still live, it no
matter. You best if you leave straight away.'

'But Sheila,' Craig was ******** interrupted. 'FORGET
HER!' yelled the big man. ­His patience clearly
weakening. 'Look, even if she left alive, she left for
only one thing and this is: to be fuck by the blacks.
Because is white is could make her very much precious.
If no killed, it is very sure she passed around many
different gangs of men. Like I say. If you no want to
die. You leave here and no ever come back.' Craig
slowly tried to regain strength. He stared out into the
pitch-blackness looking for a solution. He rubbed the
back of his neck before turning to Mbuji, 'What about
the police?' he said unconvinced.

Mbuji appeared suddenly amused. He brought his large
black hand to the review mirror and motioned it towards
Craig. 'Huh. Please, you look again at color of you
skin. You forget you are white man. You just no
understand anything!' Craig was once again puzzled.
'The police here is all corrupt. All corrupt. The
*****, the prostitute. The militaries they involved in
everything. Also very much they hate the white. You go
to them, you never see you home again. You tell them
what is happen, they laugh at you. You end up with
other twenty blacks men in small prison room. They lock
door and throw away key.'

Craig's reaction was quashed. Mbuji continued, 'Like I
say, you want to live, then you leave here as fast you
can.' Craig sank into contemplation. After a time of
silence, he turned to the black man. 'Listen, I hear
what you say, but, I can't. I just can't I can't leave,
not without even trying to find Sheila. Whether she's
dead or alive, I've got to find her. I must.'

Mbuji's eyes sharpened and his lips thinned. His facade
becoming more and more unreliable. The black man
started to appear calmer. He looked at Craig in a
condescending way. His cigarette dangling loosely from
his fat pink lips. A devious grin lurked behind the
smoke as it left his thick mouth. His intentions were
not yet obvious. He turned to Craig in a patronizing
manner. 'Okay. If you decide like this is you choice.
If want, perhaps I can help.' Craig looked at Mbuji
with growing hope. He appeared grateful, 'You would?'

'I know this place well. If I no help, you definitely
get self killed.'

'Okay, so what's the first thing we should do?' 'We?
No, no. You listen me. Is best if you no come anywhere.
You white, remember?' Craig heeded the admonishment.
'Look, I take you back to hotel. You stay there. Lock
door and wait for morning.'

'And what about you?'

'Tonight I go around, ask people if they see or hear
about woman. I come to hotel if I know anything. If no,
I come tomorrow morning.'

With a burning sense of despair, Craig was silenced. He
considered the situation. His mind torturing itself as
it scouted for a possible solution. The white man was
lost. Disorientated. Without hope or expectancy.
Reluctantly, he accepted the black man's offer. The car
engine started up. The headlights beamed out beyond the
scrappy metal, past the old railway line and into the
eerie fields of overgrown grass and rubbish.

Bruised and battered, Craig opened his hotel room door.
Past the threshold, he closed the door, crossed the
chain and bolted the door. ­He turned around and looked
ahead. Staring right back, the empty room mirrored the
void now deep inside of him. The clock on the wall
read: 02:32 hrs.

Craig approached the bed with a weak limp. As he
lowered himself onto the mattress, his head sank into
his lap. He gently covered his head with his bruised
hands before closing his eyes. The room's window led
out into the savage darkness of the night. Craig began
to sniffle. His lonely figure trembling, he whispered
to himself, 'Sheila, please forgive me.'

Mbuji's tacky old car ****** forward, down a dark and
bumpy street. It pulled up slowly, stopping next to a
rubbish container. It's lights gradually faded out as
the engine ceased. The vehicle's door opened with a
screech. A scruffy brown leather sandal, wrapped around
an enormous black man's foot, touched the ground. The
imposing foot was covered in dust. It's impressive
dimensions spreading out heavily onto the ground: it's
thick, bulky toes had dirty, ragged nails whilst it's
harsh, yellowish soul spread up from beneath the
scruffy sandal.

The huge, impervious figure of Mbuji stood tall next to
his car. His monolithic upper arms on display as he
scratched his rugged face. He looked ahead as if
staring at something. Beyond his bulky shoulders an old
sign hung undisturbed on a tacky wall. The sign read:
'Nwufoa Niger.' Mbuji's eyes sharpened. He started to
walk towards the local. To his right, the old alleyway.
It was now empty. Mbuji took a quick glimpse down it
before entering the local.

Once inside, he was presented with a very quiet and
lifeless environment. The local was almost completely
empty apart from a lonely ***** slumped in one corner
and the barman smoking a cigarette behind the counter.
Mbuji approached him slowly and offered his huge,
callous palm. He shook hands with the bartender as a
spark glittered in his eyes. Slumped in the corner, the
*****ard downed his last gulp. *******, he stared
lazily at the mighty stature of the black man who had
just entered. With the spirit polluting his mind, the
***** was struck by the staggering height and ponderous
frame of the huge Senegalese.

He watched the pair talk. After a while he saw a few
smiles amongst the two. Mbuji used the barman's
cigarette to light a smoke of his own; the barkeeper
quickly flipping the top off a bottle and pouring a
***** for them both. At ease, Mbuji moved closer. He
suddenly asked the black man what appeared to be a
specific question.

Immediately, the bartender erupted into mischievous
laughter. His eyes glowing, he started gesticulating.
As his arms waved in curves, he formed the shape of an
hourglass. He brought his hands to his chest mimicking
the forms of a woman's breasts. Mbuji quickly asked a
second question. A lurid smile soon grew on the
barman's face. He stooped forward as if wanting to
whisper something to the large Senegalese. He patted
one of Mbuji's shoulders and began to whisper in his
ear.

The barman's face became noticeably serious. He
appeared to tell Mbuji some vital information. Mbuji's
bloated lips thinned, his face straightened. His throat
retracted as he swallowed the moistness building up in
his mouth. The bartender moved away slightly. He winked
cunningly at Mbuji. Mbuji leaned forward and asked a
final question. The barman once again used his hands.
His right arm swayed from left to right, like a fish in
the mud, as if giving Mbuji some kind of road
indications.

Mbuji's eyes didn't flicker once as they carefully took
the indications. His face becoming tense, his eyes
glittering, his nostrils flaring. He stared intensely
at the bartender before nodding his head in agreement.
The big Senegalese ran his thick, yellowish palm over
his sweaty shaved head. His cigarette dampened by his
wet lips, the bartender eyeballed Mbuji with an
implicit smile. Mbuji used his big left hand to remove
the sweat now gathered on his ungroomed moustache
before grinning back at the bartender. He saluted him.
He moved backwards very slowly and cunningly turned
around. Appeased, he headed towards the exit.

Half an hour later, Mbuji was staring through the
blurry glass of his car's unwiped window. The vehicle
was in motion. It's irregular movements following a
bumpy surface of some kind. As its headlights zoomed
out into the dark night, the car approached an aging
concrete bridge. Its pillars plastered in graffiti, the
old bridge overshadowed a pile of rubble heaped below
it broken bricks, scraps of metal, an old bicycle frame
without wheels. There were torn newspapers scattered
across the floor, slit rubbish bags and tacky steal
pipes. Nearby, the remains of what could have been a
dog, splattered on the ground in a ****** mess, now a
feasting spot for hundreds of flies and moths.

As the car motioned beneath the old bridge, Mbuji's
large arms began turned the steering wheel to the
right. The car gradually exited from under the bridge
and started to move down an old lane. It took a left
and then a right; its cranky movements echoing in the
darkness. As it proceeded ahead, the vehicle entered an
extremely rough looking, abandoned area.

There were residues of a burnt down car, now
overturned. Looking around himself, Mbuji was presented
with large, secluded buildings hidden behind the
crumbling, unused bridges. There were old sheds, only a
few feet tall, next to solid concrete constructions.
The bigger structures were two or three floors high,
without windows or lights, surrounded by puddles of
sewer waters.

The car headlights beamed out over large segments of
what used to be an old warehouse. The sections now
collapsed into a heavy heap of aluminum sheets, steal
beams and tangled barbwire. There were old copper pipes
leaking, with a nasty brownish fluid running to the
ground as it met with pieces of dampened cardboard and
broken glass. As darkness engulfed the area, random
shadows suddenly moved in the distance.

Mbuji looked slightly to his left; he saw the
flickering light of what could have been a burning
bonfire. Its glow fluttering amidst the tacky walls of
the old buildings. He proceeded ahead. Moving forwards
down a much bumpier track, he started to encounter an
array of tacky old cars parked here and there. Their
windows smashed, their frameworks badly scratched and
dented.

As he turned left, Mbuji was suddenly faced with the
burning bonfire. Its wood sizzled up into the night.
Focusing on the wild fire, he saw a number of heavy
shadows spreading out; up across the old building walls
and down across the floor in front of them. He took a
better look. He saw an intimidating group of black men,
huddled around the burning fire. ­Puffs of smoke left
their mouths as rolled up cigarettes nested lightly
amongst their thick fingers.

One of the large blacks had an extremely visible,
colorful vest stretched over his broad chest. It almost
glowed in the darkness. There were three vertical
colors striped together. A bright green stripe followed
by a red one and then a yellow. The middle stripe bore
a small yellow star above which some block letters
spread out wide. They read CAMEROON. Mbuji observed the
crowd of immigrants. He appeared far from surprised.

As the car proceeded ahead, the portentous gang of
blacks monitored the vehicle. Their interest deflated
rapidly as they soon realized it was just another rough
looking negro heading down the track that night. The
car came to a slow halt. It stopped in the vicinity of
a second concrete bridge, this one tackier than the
first. Once again, large mounds of rubble nested
beneath the bridge. There was another small fire, this
time burning at ground level. It gave light to three
black men crouched around it.

They perched awkwardly on overturned boxes and large
stones. Mbuji turned off the engine. The car lights
immediately faded out. His eyes studied the three men
lazily squatted around the flame. He saw them passing
something around; their heads tilted forward as their
shoulders drooped. He scouted the nasty features of a
dirty syringe needle.

Hardly stunned, Mbuji moved his attention away from the
junkies. He spotted a number of old scooters nudged up
against a tacky wire fence. He then saw a fresh row of
brassy cars crammed together. The parked vehicles slept
undisturbed in the shadows. The rusty fence surrounded
an overgrown field preceding a large concrete building,
barely visible in the darkness. An abandoned edifice of
some kind, half of one of its sidewalls was barely
standing. Surrounded by endless heaps of rubble and
rubbish, the dark and seemingly deserted building stood
a few floors high; almost completely hidden behind the
old bridge. It was, without doubt, a chilling location.

The silence of the eerie area was suddenly disturbed. A
group of rowdy blacks slowly began to approach. There
were five of them. They appeared exalted. They
aggressively scrunched up some empty beer cans and
threw them into the rubbish nearby. They appeared
significantly appeased with themselves. Mbuji followed
their movements in the darkness. He watched them
approach the tacky old fence. The five blacks pulled at
the wire.

They revealed a hole in the rusty enclosure. They soon
stretched it open and moved through it one by one, in
to the overgrown field. After the last black has passed
through the hole, another man started moving through it
from the opposite direction. He was followed by three
other blacks, also leaving the overgrown field. Their
faces hauled huge grins. They laughed wildly and began
to head away from the derelict building, towards the
three junkies slumped around the fire.

As they moved closer, Mbuji's heavy arm thrust out of
his window. He called one of the men over. The black
man stopped and looked down at the large Senegalese
squelched inside his tacky old car. Mbuji's head
motioned towards the old building. He appeared to be
asking a question. The rugged man, blatantly
***********, burst into a rapacious laughter. He
brought his thick hand towards his trousers and
aggressively cupped his groin.

His tongue dangled loosely from his lips. His eyes
rolled madly as if he were in a state of total delight.
The man turned around and faced the rusty old fence. He
stared emphatically at the creepy old building before
letting out a powerful yell of gratification. He
started to move his hips back and forth, simulating the
act of anal sex. He then stood upright and brought his
hand to the height of his waist. He spread his large
hand out in front of him as if he were holding
someone's head. His waist movement resumed. He began to
simulate the act of oral sex. Once more, he yelled in
ecstasy.

Mbuji stretched his head further out the window; he
asked another question. The man before him pointed
towards the rusty old fence. He blurted out some words,
and sniggered before heading back towards the other
junkies.

The humongous frame of Mbuji exited the car. With a
slow, fearless pace, the Senegalese headed under the
bridge. Adagio, he reached the row of tacky old cars.
He passed them unruffled and scouted for the hole in
the rusty fence. He found the opening at once.
Crouching down awkwardly, he tried to fit his large
chassis though the modest hole. He managed it by a
small margin.

Mbuji moved ahead in the darkness. His heavy feet
stomped ahead. They charged forward, across the field,
amidst the overgrown grass. He was ****** to dodge
mounds of rubble, copper pipes as well as a number of
splintered pieces of wood dwelling dangerously in the
wild grass. Mbuji's eyes fluttered. He was presented
with the daunting urban degrade. He saw rubbish bags, a
scrapped toilet vase lying on the floor; old mattress
springs, broken glass panels and even an old car engine
heaped on the ground without pardon. As he moved closer
to the large building, he noticed that its external
walls bore the extended black marks of a past fire. The
grimy burn marks mixed savagely with obnoxious graffiti
plastering the crumbling edifice whilst the front
windows were boarded up with rusting aluminum sheets.

Mbuji's gaze faced the ground. He had noticed an
improvised footpath leading to the side of the old
building. He moved ahead in mortal silence; the whites
of his eyes piercing out from pitch darkness. The
footpath was long and eerie. To his right, the huge,
sweeping concrete sidewalls of the intimidating
building. As Mbuji got closer to the end of the old
structure, he began to hear some voices. The mumbles
were blurred, but they began to grow louder. Mbuji
turned the corner.

He was confronted with a large group of black men
standing in front of a backdoor. The blacks were
noticeably bulky and heavy. They smoked carelessly.
Behind them, a thick line of empty beer bottles lined a
small wall. The group turned their attention to Mbuji
as he began to head towards them. He slowly took a pack
of cigarettes from his back pocket and lit a smoke.

The large Senegalese mingled with the blacks. He
offered them a couple of smokes before patting one of
them on the shoulder. The men began to chat; Mbuji
appeared at ease. Laid back, he suddenly said something
with a smooth tone of voice. The blacks began to
snigger at what appeared to be a slick joke. Without
delay, Mbuji turned his attention to the backdoor. He
asked a devious question. The group of blacks began to
mutter emphatically.

Mbuji brought his large black hand to his groin and
cupped his heavy bulge. The gang of blacks began to
laugh in agreement. One of them offered the Senegalese
a swig of his bottle before pointing towards the
backdoor. The others soon began to nudge Mbuji towards
the building, enticing him to enter.

Mbuji took a swig at the bottle and handed it back. He
took a final puff of his cigarette before flicking it
to the ground. He turned towards the backdoor and
motioned towards it. Mbuji opened it with verve. Badly
hinged, the door scraped violently on the ground. The
large black man entered the dark building.

Once inside, Mbuji was surrounded by darkness. In the
distance he could see a small light bulb. Badly lit, it
revealed a decaying wall. A number of holes spread
randomly throughout the wall as large patches of damp
engulfed parts of the ceiling. As a slight breeze swept
the dark room, the hanging light bulb swayed
weightlessly. Through one of the holes, Mbuji caught a
glimpse of an old stairway. He promptly headed towards
it. At its feet, the big black man stared up at a
rising cluster of dusty concrete steps. He started up
them. Motioning away from the dangling light, he was
once again faced with complete darkness.

Once on the first floor, Mbuji took out his lighter. He
lit a feeble flame, directing it in front of him. In
semidarkness, he saw nothing but heaps of debris. Old
steel frames, dusty planks and un-plastered walls. A
squalid sight. The floor was completely abandoned. Its
walls covered in graffiti. Mbuji motioned the lighter
to his right then to his left he saw nothing. He
promptly turned back towards the stairway. Up another
flight of steps and Mbuji reached the second floor.
Without stopping, he started a new flight of steps.

His scraggy vest gathering sweat, Mbuji reached the
third floor. He directed the flickering flame directly
ahead of him. He saw a slight beam of light piercing
through one of the boarded up windows. It revealed a
small corridor leading to a much larger one running the
length of the old building. He began to motion forwards
very cautiously. As the light improved gradually, Mbuji
returned his lighter to his pocket. He saw cigarette
butts scattered here and there on the dusty floor.

There were a number of rusty metal doors badly secured
in front of tatty old rooms. As he moved forwards, he
noticed one of the metal doors lying on the floor. He
stopped in front of it. Stepping over the door, Mbuji
entered the old room. In semidarkness, he saw electric
cables dangling from the ceiling, broken glass covering
the icky floor strewn with rubbish bags.

Mbuji was unmoved. As he lowered his head, he saw more
empty bottles and cigarette butts. Turning to his left,
he soon spotted a scruffled magazine piercing from
under a stained pillow on the floor. He picked it up in
a leery manner. He opened it. He saw the features of a
black woman. Her legs were wide open and a large black
penis was fiercely stretching her pussy. In the next
picture her lips were wrapped around an even bigger
penis. Mbuji grinned spiteful as he flicked through the
pornographic magazine.

Appeased, the large Senegalese threw the magazine back
to the ground. He stepped back over the door and into
the dark corridor once again. He resumed ahead in his
slow pace. Moving further down the corridor, deeper
into the belly of the old building. Darkness enveloped
him once again. Mbuji re-extracted his lighter and took
a few more steps ahead. Suddenly, the big man stopped
in his pace. He remained immobile as if he had heard
something. Some voices. Distant echoes could be
perceived.

Mbuji proceeded ahead very slowly. The small flame in
his hand revealed a large brick wall, covered in
cobwebs. To its right, the mouth of a dingy stairway
leading down, to a deep and dark corridor. Mbuji leered
down at the buried stairway; he appeared unconvinced.
He turned around skeptical and stared back into the
darkness.

Suddenly, he heard some fresh mumbles coming from
below. The big man brought his attention back to the
stairway. He lowered his lighter in order to take a
better look. There was a long crack running down one of
the sidewalls. Some broken concrete steps covered in
dust and a rusty sidebar perilously hanging from its
supports. Resolute, Mbuji started to descend the tight
stairway. As he reached the bottom step, he heard some
random voices mumbling in an African dialect. There was
another tight corridor, with a rather low, crumbling
ceiling.

At the very end of it, a dim light spread across its
uneven surface. It revealed another passageway to the
left. Crouching his heavy shoulders, Mbuji closed his
lighter once more and returned it to his back pocket.
He started to move towards the end of the corridor.
Turning the corner, he saw the fluttering of an old
light bulb dangling from an electric wire. It revealed
a much larger corridor. Peeking down it, he spotted a
herd of rough looking blacks, maybe five or six,
huddled together smoking.

Extending his focus, he studied the full length of
corridor. He pried another dangling light about fifty
yards further down. There was another cluster of
blacks, more numerous, maybe eight or nine, beneath the
second light. Their movements fickle and erratic, their
voices intimidating they appeared *****. A number of
them could be seen smoking dodgy cigarettes, a nasty
smell of cannabis infested the dark corridor.

Mbuji brought his large hand to his forehead. His
yellowish palm swept the sweat dripping from his head
as he began to mingle with the large crowds. An old
mirror, half smashed, could be seen to the right. Its
surface blurry, it was steamed up by vaporous body
heat. Mbuji moved ahead almost unnoticed. Past the
first group, he suddenly began to hear faded echoes.
Some rowdy cheers were coming from a distance. He moved
ahead slowly; the cheers became more and more vivid.

In proximity of the second light bulb, Mbuji stopped in
his pace. He spotted a couple of negros leaving the
second crowd. They started to head down a much tighter
corridor to the right. Mbuji watched the pair go down
it. They turned to the left and out of sight. As soon
as the two blacks turned the corner, four other negros
strolled round it, coming from the opposite direction.
One of them motioned forward in a strange manner.

He doddled, as if his movements were impeded slightly.
Mbuji stared ahead in awe. He saw the black man tugging
at his pants. He had an enormous grin spread across his
ugly rugged face. His pants were down by his thighs,
his tight vest soaked in sweat. Mbuji looked down. He
saw a swollen, veiny penis dangling viciously between
the black man's thighs. A white fluid trickling from
its rounded tip; the man appeared elated.

As he joined the other blacks, he was saluted by a loud
roar. The other negros chuckled in delight. Mbuji
stared down the tight corridor. His eyes sharpened as
he watched three more blacks venture down it. They
disappeared to the left as the wild yells grew louder
and louder. His heart racing, Mbuji rubbed his sweaty
palms together. Staring down the dark corridor, he
began to move ahead. As he approached the corner, he
was suddenly halted. He remained immobile. Sandbagged.
He had heard some screams high-pitched shrills. His
breathing tensed, his legs trembled: they were the
screams of a woman.

Mbuji followed the men round the corner. He was
presented with a dark corridor. It was crowded with
heavy clusters of blacks. They were bare-chested, their
shiny black skin, soaked in sweat, glistened beneath a
twitching light bulb overhead. The herd of blacks faced
a small entrance to what appeared to be a tacky old
room. The size of a jail cell, the steamy chamber was
filled to the brim, overflowing with intimidating
negros elbowing each other ferociously, trying to gain
entrance.

Studying the sweaty crowd, Mbuji heard another
desperate cry, 'NO!! Please.' As Mbuji listened, he saw
two Negros, fighting their way past the mob, trying to
exit the dingy room. As they came forward, Mbuji could
see that they were completely naked. As their powerful
black bodies breezed forward soaked in sweat, their
swollen penises swung from left to right snakelike.

Mbuji looked ahead with violence, his pupils dilating,
his nostrils flaring. His large frame trudged forward
as he started to mingle with the herd of blacks. He
used his heavy shoulders and impressive height to slice
through the crowd. Once inside, he scouted his
surroundings. The negros were crammed together in
concentric circles, facing the centre of the room.
Mbuji suddenly caught a glimpse of what appeared to be
the wooden legs of a scrappy old worktable nested
beneath a dangling light bulb. Moving closer to the
inner circles, he soon realized that the majority of
the blacks were completely naked.

­Beneath the flickering light, he could see heavy
shoulders dripping in sweat, bulking biceps, naked
thighs, glistening round bottoms and a daunting
alignment of long, thick penises dangling viciously
amidst in the shadows. Mbuji was only a few feet away
from the center. The desperate female groans were now
imminent. He nudged his way forward; the crowd
gradually opened up. Mbuji was halted. Stunned,
incredulous.

Before him a barbaric scenario: a white woman spread-
eagled across the table. Her body had been stripped. It
was naked. Completely naked. Ransacked, her flesh
glistened beneath the dangling light.

Sweltering amidst the crowd, Sheila's delicate body
dripped in sweat. Smooth and oily, she wriggled and
squirmed in desperation. Her wrists and ankles clasped
savagely by black hands; her shiny legs stretched
obscenely wide, her hairy pussy gaping open a scene of
absolute degradation.

A thick hand suddenly clasped her neck, wedging her
throat. She wiggled in despair as her greasy body was
********** dozens of black hands swarmed over her silk
like body, running their yellow palms in every crack,
cranny and crevice. ­She could feel palms slewing over
her breasts, sliding down her thighs, stroking her
legs, rubbing her tummy, fondling her groin. Tongues.
Many. Long and thick, licking at her feet, slurping at
her ankles. Fleshy African lips viciously sucking her
nipples. Her amazing nipples; juicy and stiff, they
were like milk oozing jellybeans. The blacks couldn't
get enough of them. Taking it in turns, they stooped
down over her wriggling body and viciously suckled at
her swollen breasts.

Pushing in front of Mbuji, an umpteenth negro trudged
forward, totally naked and with his swollen dick
swaying before him. He stroked Sheila's calves and,
with lustful eyes, spread her legs even wider. He
suddenly restrained however. He felt a huge, callous
hand spread out over his shoulder. He turned with
surprise. Mbuji leered down at him. Overpowering,
incensed. The huge Senegalese puffed out his enormous
frame and snarled down with anger, it was HIS turn. The
black man lowered his head and moved aside. Mbuji was
indeed a beast of a man. He squinted around menacing,
he needed more space.

The others stepped back. He gazed down at the tender
white flesh sprawled out in front of him. Sheila looked
up in a dreamlike state. His shadow towered over her.
As the others moved back, the white woman's wrists and
ankles were released. Mbuji grabbed her hand and jolted
her to her feet. The white woman was head rushed. She
stood there completely naked, shuddering, in shock.
Dripping in sweat, with her swollen breasts shivering,
her nipples hardening and with sticky white fluid
trickling down her thighs.

The big Senegalese gawked around tenaciously. Dog eat
dog. The crowd would have to wait for their turn. He
eyeballed Sheila in a threatening way. He raised his
lumbering arm and grasped her by the throat. He
squeezed just enough. ­Sheila's face went pale. He
whispered a warning in her ear, 'If you no do what I
tell you, I **** you right here!' Sheila trembled.
Terrified, shook up. She reluctantly nodded her head.
The huge black man whispered some more, 'Get on your
knees.' Sheila blinked frantically. Her eyes sifted
over his body. ­The huge black man standing in front of
her was one of the biggest individuals she had ever
seen. She mirrored his stare. She was petrified.

Shivering and with her breasts swaying tenderly, Sheila
lowered herself to the floor. Once on her knees, she
looked up. Embarrassed, she looked down. The crowd
gathered around and chuckled in anticipation. Mbuji
brought his thick callous hand to her chin and with his
yellowish palm nudged her head up. Sheila stared ahead.
Directly in front of her, the prominent bulge
protruding from his cotton trousers. Mbuji smirked,
then turned severe once again. He brought his bulky
hands to waist and started to unfasten his belt. Sheila
couldn't help but tremble.

Mbuji's pants were suddenly lowered. Beneath them, the
sweaty fabric of his white briefs clung to his groin.
As his trousers dropped to his knees, Sheila jaw almost
dropped to the floor. She looked ahead confused,
astonished. The big man's clammy underwear adhered to a
somewhat 'abnormal' bulk. It was big. Very big. Indeed,
she could detect the huge shape of a twitching phallus,
bigger than any she had ever seen or imagined before.
Mbuji didn't waist any time, he plunged his thick,
callous fingers beneath the clammy cotton fabric as if
he were fishing for an eel.

With a sudden, abrupt movement, he unleashed his veiny
black monster. It drooped heavy and sullen, lumbering
like a swollen python. Sheila's heart missed a beat.
Before her the enormous schlong swayed back and forth,
********, with it's enormous, purple bell wavering up
and down. As thick as a soda can, it staggered, mule
like, halfway down his thighs, bouncing jittery above
an obnoxious pair of heavy black balls. Sheila looked
around in dismay. The musty room was engulfed with
cheers. The white woman was in serious trouble now.
Mbuji lowered his stare and cupped her chin, 'You suck.
Very deep.' he ordered.

Sheila's spine tingled. Her toes clinched. ­Her mouth
was dry. She wanted to cry but had no tears left. Mbuji
squeezed his hand. 'DO IT!!' he yelled. Sheila stooped
forward. She brought her trembling hands to the base of
his hairy scrotum. She cupped his stiffening pocket
before slowly running her fingers under his veiny,
prominent rod. It was warm, slewing but rock hard. She
tried to wrap her hand around it but couldn't make her
fingers meet. Mbuji tilted his head back as flowed to
his lumbering penis.

Sheila squeezed harder, she could feel his pulse. She
brought her head closer and opened her mouth. The
enormous phallus pecked at her lips. ­She could taste
its salty juices already oozing. Mbuji lowered his
stare. He eyeballed the shivering white woman and
clasped her head. Without warning, he thrust his body
forward. The massive black schlong was now embedded at
the back of Sheila's throat. ­She squirmed, helplessly.
Unable to breath, unable to disgorge.

Without mercy, Mbuji started to face-fuck the powerless
woman; his monstrous rod grinding inside her mouth, his
sticky fluids trickling down her chin. Pulling at her
hair. Sheila buckled under, she tried her best to
satisfy him. She started to suck. Deeper. And deeper.
She slurped, she dribbled. Her fingers ran over his
bulky thighs then made their way to his balls. She
cupped them, she fondled them. She moved her open palms
to his muscley, pert buttocks, she stroked them, she
squeezed them. Mbuji groaned with pleasure.

She gradually moved her hands back to his veiny shaft.
She clasped it and rubbed thoroughly. Her tongue
lolled, and her lips sucked. Deeper, harder. Mbuji was
in a state of ecstasy. He lowered his huge frame and
brought his massive arm to her side. He started to
fondle her delicate breasts. He cupped them and heaved
them upwards. He twiddled his fingers around her
nipples. He suddenly grinned, they were getting harder.
And harder. Could she be enjoying this?

His hips started to thrust faster and faster. Harder
and harder. Sheila closed her eyes. She couldn't take
it any longer. The big black man powered on. Stretching
her delicate lips, pounding her quivering tongue.
Deeper and deeper. Faster. Harder. He suddenly grabbed
the back of her head and jolted it back. His sticky
warm fluid squirted everywhere, over her face, in her
hair. It trickled down her chin, drooled onto her
trembling breasts before nesting in her thighs. Sheila
tried to gasp for air. She couldn't, her mouth was
full. Mbuji squeezed his clasp around her neck. Her
lips quivered as she slowly gulped it down. She had
just swallowed his warm cream.

The big man wiped his sweaty forehead and grinned
masterful. He leered down at her and cupped her chin.
He licked his lips and once again, grabbed the white
woman by her arm and jolted her up to her feet. He
suddenly gripped Sheila by the waist, lifted her up and
tilted her over his shoulder. He began to twirl her
around. The white woman's head was now dangling to the
floor. With her buttocks nested over his shoulder,
Mbuji brought his heavy fingers towards her bottom. He
pried her sweaty cheeks wide open both her holes were
now on full display. The jeering crowd moved in for a
better look. Sheila was in a state of utter
degradation.

Her body was hoisted up, closer to the light. She
Suddenly felt herself being fondled. A swarm of black
fingers had begun intruding her most private parts. She
was mortified. Totally humiliated, Sheila felt her anus
being levered open. Mbuji stuck his middle finger in
deep. He grimaced without mercy. He then moved his
fingers to her gaping vagina. Mumbling away to the
others, he seemed to be checking if she was 'dry' or
not. She wasn't. As a matter of fact, the helpless
white woman was absolutely drenched. The crowd roared
like *******. Sheila was now in a state of utter and
absolute embarrassment. With ***** flowing down to her
head, she began to sniffle. Her tears soon trickled to
the dusty floor. ­She was absolutely mortified,

Her naked bottom, paraded around obscenely, had
unveiled a daunting truth. The white woman had
apparently enjoyed what had just happened. The
sniggering negros could hardly believe it and, deep
down, neither could she.

Thee shrills and screeches of the early morning traffic
rebounded vigorously down below. Craig lay supine on
his bed as the scorching African sunlight raided the
hotel room. Exhausted, he snorted randomly, engaged in
deep *******.

In a state of befuddlement, he eventually came round.
He awoke with a shock. His ***** viciously interrupted
by a powerful thump on the door. Craig trembled as he
opened his eyes. He tried to lift his head but plunged
instantly into a dizzy twirl; his bruised temple still
aching from the night before.

A second heavy thump struck the door. Craig stumbled to
his feet. He fuddled around nervously as he looked for
his pants. They lay nested at the feet of the bed.
Struggling to put them on, he collapsed in a messy
heap. Within a few seconds, a third, more potent blast
shook the door. Craig jumped up as fast as he could.

­He turned the key and unlocked the bolt. Within a
fraction of a second, a huge black hand thrust into
sight from behind the door. It's yellowish palm
grasping it vigorously. The big hand sprung the door
forward with a single, heavy shove. Craig tumbled to
the ground once more. Above him, the powerful frame of
Mbuji stood imperiously. He towered over Craig,
shadowed by three other blacks. The potent Senegalese
smirked down. Moving forward, his eyes met with those
of the quivering white man.

As the last man viciously slammed the door behind,
Mbuji exposed a flick-knife. 'Get up you fool!,' he
roared. Craig didn't flinch. Petrified, he looked up in
a state of total disarray. The white man was obviously
confused. Mbuji's menacing tone had triggered a double
awakening. As the white man's ******* drained away, he
was overwhelmed by a debilitating sense of betrayal.
His 'friend' had suddenly revealed his true intentions.
More than ever, in such barren wasteland, the limp
white man felt powerless. He was alone, completely
alone. He had been mercilessly slung into the pits of
hell. Surrounded and threatened, his prospects appeared
bleak. 'I say get up now!' repeated Mbuji.

Craig's arm was jolted upwards. He was ****** to his
feet by two of the blacks. Caught off guard, the white
man was suddenly struck by a powerful sweep of Mbuji's
backhand.

The powerful Senegalese slapped Craig a second time.

Traumatized, the white man stumbled backwards. Stunned
and with tears invading his eyes, he looked sheepishly
the double-crosser before him. 'Sit down,' barked
Mbuji. Now trembling, Craig lowered himself on the bed.
'I find you woman!'

'Sheila!' panicked Craig.

'Shut up!' Mbuji countered. 'You listen. I talk.' Craig
tilted his head. Mbuji resumed, 'The white woman have
very good night!'

He glanced over to his Negro companions, the three
sharing a slick grin; one of them instantly licking his
fleshy lips. 'What do you mean?' Craig blubbered in
shock. 'You woman was take to old building on the
outskirt of Lagos. Many black man there.'

Craig's face sunk. His cheeks reddened. He could
already anticipate what he was about to hear. He had
already envisioned it that night, in his dreams. His
heart began to drum as he listened to the foul words
leaving the black man's mouth. 'All night long she have
big black penis in her bottom.'

The cruel words were accompanied by a nasty echo of
laughter, whistles and wild grunts. The three others
puffed out their chests. Their amusement was destined
to grow. The huge Senegalese man in fact moved closer
to the flaccid white man. He positioned his imposing
frame directly in front of Craig.

Mbuji looked down imperiously. Suddenly he brought his
heavy black hand to his groin. In silence, he started
to unfasten his belt. He unzipped his pants and tilted
his waist forward

Craig looked ahead in awe. Taken by surprise, he
watched Mbuji's monstrous black phallus tumble out in
front of him. It began to swell impressively. Mind-
blowing, breathtaking. Craig had never seen anything
like it. The twitching black eel, heavy and thick,
swayed ponderously directly in front of him. It's
bloated, veiny shaft dangling over his saggy, hairy
scrotum. It drooped half way down the black man's
thighs.

Craig's jaw fell. Unable to blink. Silence fell.

The white man lowered his chin and began to shiver.
Terrified by the mighty display before him.

Appeased, Mbuji jerked his lumbering snake back into
his pants. He sighed proudly as if he had just rewarded
the puny white man with an undeserved peek at his
powerful manhood.

Craig was dumbfounded. Horrifying slide shots of the
night before instantly raided his mind. No, not Sheila,
it's impossible, he thought to himself.

'She take big black dick in all her holes.' continued
Mbuji. 'Many many penis. All night long. She tied up.
Her beautiful naked body no can move. She fuck over and
over' Craig brought his hands to head. Speechless,
shivery. He stared in awe at the dark skin of the black
men in front of him. It was rough and rugged. His mind
was promptly invaded by a vision. A vision of Sheila,
tied down. Naked, wriggling, trying to set herself
free. Her legs stretched wide. Craig's head sagged in
shock.

'You right, she have very good body. She scream for
long time. Very good pump. In all holes.'

Incredulous, Craig lifted his face. He stared at Mbuji
this was no joke. Sheila really had been abducted. He
realized that her delicate body had been subjected to
the worst sexual depravities.

'WHERE IS SHE?!!' he yelled. Mbuji stood up, his face
slick yet relaxed. 'Is okay, you no worry. She no dead.
Not yet...'

'What do you mean, not yet!'

'This depends on you,' Mbuji whispered. He squinted at
his companions.

'How can it depend on me?'

With a cunning wink, Mbuji motioned to one of his
comrades. The black man instantly placed his hand in
his back pockets. He extracted what old Polaroid and
handed it to the large Senegalese. Mbuji moved closer
and floated the picture in front of Craig.

Speechless, Craig analyzed the photo. Mbuji's tone
sharpened. 'We find this in you woman bag. Who are
they?' ­he asked abruptly. Craig stared at the photo.
It showed two young women. They were blonde, tanned,
wearing sarongs and bikini tops and sipping what
appeared to be cocktails in front of a Honolulu resort.
They were smiling and hugging as they stared into the
lens.

Craig immediately recognized them. He was staring at an
old holiday snap. It was a photo taken a couple of
years ago. It featured Jenny and Christina, Sheila's
two *********. Craig's breathing deepened, this was
Sheila's family,

Mbuji yelled again, louder, 'I SAY WHO ARE THEY?!'

One of the blacks grabbed Craig by the hair and pulled
his head closer to the picture. Reluctantly, the white
man responded. 'They're my partner's *********.' ­he
said shaking. 'And where are they now?' Craig looked
confused. 'What do you mean, where are they? They're
back in the States. They live in America.'

Mbuji continued as if unruffled, 'And you know them?'

'I told you, they're Sheila's *********. What do they
have to do with anything?' he asked confused.

Mbuji downshifted his shiny shaved head in line with
Craig's. An evil stare pierced through as his lips
suddenly thinned, 'You want to see you woman again, you
do as I say,'

Craig gazed at him. Mbuji continued, 'I want you to
contact them, You phone. You tell them to join you
here...'

'What on Earth...'

SLAP!! Craig's bruised face was sclaffed harshly. It
wasn't over. Mbuji's trembling hand quickly swung back.
It centered the white man once again, almost driving
him off the bed. The Senegalese now powered over him.
'You do as I say!! If no, first I **** you woman, then
I cut you throat! You understand??!'

Craig's lips quivered. His head still dizzy. How could
he even consider contacting the two girls? What did the
blacks want from them? They were miles away. Mbuji
moved his knife dangerously close. Its tip swished
against the white man's cheek.

'You want to die in Africa?' he droned.

Craig's pupils dilated as he followed the knife
******** against his bruised skin. He peeped up at
Mbuji, 'What am I supposed to tell them?' he asked
unconvinced.

'I no care. You make something up You tell them they
come here. It is emergency.'

'What kind of emergency?'

'You say them that ****** is sick. She be in accident.'

'Accident?'

'Yes, accident. You tell that she in hospital. You no
say anything about us if do, you both dead.' Mbuji
brought the knife to his own neck. he slid it across
vehemently, simulating the cutting of a throat. 'You
make rest up, understand?'

Craig looked down in despair. Who were these people, he
thought. What on Earth did they have in mind? The
Africans towered over him, each with a slick grin.

Mbuji brought his chunky left hand to the white man's
cheek. He pinched it in a patronizing way, before
snatching the photo from his hand. He stepped back and
took another good look at the picture.

The two girls stared back at him. Their tender flesh on
display. Their morbid curves glowing in front of the
sunset. Their perky bosoms supported by pink and yellow
bras. They smiled back at him as if belonging to a
remote paradise. He eyeballed Craig once again, 'I give
you five days!'

It was an order and it bore no mercy. 'Five days? Five
days to do what?' blurted Craig. 'You have five days,'
repeated Mbuji, 'Five days should be plenty. You have
time to give self a clean up, arrange plane tickets,
contacts girls and make arrive at airport. Saturday.'
'Saturday?'

'That right. The girls to be at Lagos airport by
Saturday. If no, you and you woman, ' once again he
brought the rugged knife to his throat. He reminded
Craig that it could be their last day.

'But,' Craig tried to expel some words. In vain. Mbuji
patted him on the shoulder, handed him a scruffy note
and moved towards the door, shadowed by his savage
associates. 'You phone me on this number when all
arranged. I give you other instruction then.'

Craig took the piece of paper. He took a deep breath,
folded the note within his trembling fingers and
watched the blacks leave.

Little did he know the blackmail had just begun.