("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- An African Seduction - 2 by Author on Africa (author@uwclub.net) *** Angel's new lover developes his business plan based on the advantages of expat workers with pretty wives and daughters. (MFF, intr) *** (Revised and edited since first published on Literotica.com) Part 2 Joseph Okuru sat nervously across from Igwe Orizu as his boss perused the folders he had presented to him. Joseph worked in the personnel department of Orizu Building. One of many companies that Igwe owned. It was a very busy department. Four hundred Africans worked for the company, a mix of men and women. The problem for Joseph was the workforce turnover. It was not because people left the company for another company. The problem was simple and stark. Death was the biggest cause of turnover. He had carefully studied the figures himself. In the last two years over 100 staff had died from illness, variously described as flu, cold, fever. None stated the true reason. Aids. According to the country's President there was no such illness, and so it never appeared on Death Certificates. Finding replacement staff was not so difficult, but since half the population of the country were under 15 years of age, skill and experienced workers were hard to come by. Fortunately for Orizu Building the government had set pay levels for all categories of employees. Good for business if not for employees! So an experienced and skilled older work could not leave his company for a better paid job elsewhere. Since all the pay rates in all Zimbabwe Company's were exactly the same switching from one employer to another led to suspicion of incompetence, or worse misdeeds. So Africans rarely changed jobs. That still left Joseph very busy man finding replacements for the staff and organising whip rounds for grieving widows and children. Not that the folders Igwe was perusing related to African staff and workers. The folders Igwe was reading comprised the latest CV's and backgrounds on UK professionals being suggested by International Recruit. Joseph suspected that the company would grind to a halt without the input of the white engineers, quantity surveyors, project managers and accountants like David Burton. White expats did not die of aids. They came for two years and usually left after that. In those two years they brought modern management skills. A desire to work hard, a notion Joseph struggled to understand, and a drive and energy that sometimes alarmed the African staff. Igwe was an intimidating and powerful African. Joseph knew well his history in the war of liberation that they had fought and lost against the whites. Igwe's friendship with the new African rulers meant that he now sat in the Chair of one the biggest developing new construction firms. Joseph could not really comprehend the wealth Igwe was reported to own. That wealth and his contacts drove the business development. He could afford to employ the white expats that made his business profitable. He was also ruthless, and Joseph believed the rumours that at least some of the disappeared staff had been fed to the local crocodiles inhabiting the water holes at the golf course. Certainly the tax inspectors that Igwe had taken for a game of golf had never been seen again. Tax inspectors had not visited Igwe's business since. Igwe's thoughts as he perused the folders in front of him could not be further from his own. He held in his hand the picture of Diana Windsor. She was a blond bombshell with a cascade of yellow hair that perfectly set off her blue eyes. He could sense the spark in those eyes. He suspected fire and passion smouldered behind those eyes. He turned the photo over and scanned her statistics. She was 26 years old. Her figure had been discreetly written noted on the sideline 36-28-34. He shivered at the fought of getting his around the waist of this lovely creature and then exploring the fuller curves. Yes, she was just what he required from the wives of a potential employee. Having satisfied himself with the important issue he picked up the file of her husband, Paul Windsor. He was a Contracts Manager. Twenty years experience. A quick scan revealed that he had owned his own business up until 9 months ago. Then the recession that was doing so much damage in the UK had closed his business. Igwe liked recessions in Europe and America. It guaranteed desperate professionals running from the taxman and in need of work and an escape from debts. Looking through the papers it seemed Mr. Windsor had all the competence to be a skilled Contracts Manager. He turned over the photo and was surprised to see in the notes that he was 19 years old and had a figure of 34-26-30! Igwe looked across at Joseph. He had little time for incompetents. He could see Joseph quail under his gaze. He liked that in an employee! He continued to stare at Joseph, who squirmed in his seat. Joseph was struggling to overcome his sudden fear. His boss had missed something but if Joseph mentioned it he might be accused of suggesting Igwe had made a mistake. Making such a suggestion to his boss filled Joseph with terror. So her squirmed under Igwe's gaze and dithered. Igwe stared. Joseph realised inaction was going to get him into more trouble than he was in already. He coughed and gestured towards the photo. Igwe stared at him. Hiding his amusement. Joseph edged forward and took the photo from Igwe's hand he carefully peeled the two photo's apart. Photographs did not travel well in the steamy African heat. He handed the photo's back looking apologetic and embarrassed. Igwe took the two photographs. His interest was not so much in Paul Windsor as much as the 19 year old with the figure. He looked down at the pretty face of young woman. "That's Lauren. She is Mr. Windsor's oldest daughter." "Oldest daughter?" "Yes he has two daughter's... there should be another photograph." Igwe shuffled through the papers and found another photograph. He pulled it out and looked it over. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed. "16?" "No, she is 15 years old. Her name is Samantha." Igwe smiled, even better. Joseph relaxed. He turned over Paul's photo and saw that he was 42 years old. "His first wife died and he re-married," Joseph explained. Igwe pondered these facts for a few moments. A 42 year old man with, no doubt, a demanding younger 26 year old wife, and two nicely developed teenage daughters who had become young women in their own rights. He would imagine there would be a few tensions in this family. No doubt Paul was struggling to keep his new pretty wife happy, and two daughters clashing with the new wife would add to the tension of his company going bust. Yes Paul Windsor was looking for an escape route. "Hire him." He opened the next folder. He glanced over the features of a young white man, then glanced down his details. They described a recently qualified engineer of 26 years, single. He frowned. He did not employ single white men! "Joseph?" Joseph, who had been relaxing and his thoughts drifting, was startled back to attention. He immediately saw the folder spread across Igwe's desk, and realised Igwe's concern. "If I may...Sir?" Igwe leaned back allowing Joseph to shuffle through the file. "Here," he handed over a hand written blue coloured letter. There was a paper clip attaching a photo of a very pretty young woman, with long dark brown hair. "His fiancé," Joseph explained. "If he is offered the job they will marry and have their honeymoon on the way here. She is a Sunday School teacher." Igwe's interest picked up at that last point. A Sunday School teacher! That would be an interesting challenge, and fresh from her honeymoon! There would be a few high level bets on how quick she could be introduced to a black cock in those circumstances! "Hire." Igwe shuffled the papers together, and pushed them aside. "Do you have the new contract I told you to prepare?" Joseph nodded and handed the crisp white sheets over. "Good! Send Mr. Burton to me." Joseph quickly rose, he was glad to escape the risky confines of Igwe Orizu's office. ** David knocked politely before entering the office of his domineering African boss. He dreaded his boss. He had always treated him with professional courtesy. David knew his worth and value, and that he was an invaluable key player in the company's affairs. David liked it that way. However, Igwe Orizu had seduced his wife. In one sense that was OK. They had been married 19 years and things had gone stale, his wife boring. Igwe had seduced and transformed his wife and rather than being annoyed David had found the situation arousing and exciting. Who would ever have believed his wife would have allowed a black man between her legs? Now his wife did things in bed without him asking or needing to encourage her. Igwe had taught her things to do with her tongue that made David shiver at the memory. But that was his wife. The horrifying discovery that his pretty daughter had been drawn into Igwe's depraved circle had shocked him to the core. He felt intensely guilty that seeing his pretty teenage daughter underneath a rutting middle aged African had given him an erection! He had thought it had been his wife! When he had discovered it was his daughter, and not his wife, his erection had not subsided. He had felt guilty since and confused ever since. Over the week since he had witnessed his daughter's ravishment he made up his mind not to renew his contract. There were three months to go and he suspected that this was what Mr. Orizu wanted to see him about. He entered the office and sat comfortable in the chair opposite the owner of the company. Igwe had never stood on ceremony with his key expatriate staff. Igwe was checking over an A4 sheet of typed paper, which he could see had the company seal on it. Igwe looked up. "A new contract," he waved it at David Burton. David coughed, and shifted on his seat. His decision to leave crystallized but he struggled with the nerve to tell this man that. "I had been meaning to speak to you about that. I... I have decided not to renew my contract." He looked across at Igwe, who was looking back at him. David saw no hostility in that returned gaze. His confidence rose. "I have had a long thought about this, and after two years here it is probably time we returned to the UK." Igwe nodded across the table at him. "That is of course your decision and you have every right to make it. I respect your decision and will regret your departure, but that is expected after all we only offered you a two year contract, and I had not yet considered whether to renew it." David nodded relieved this was going so easily, but then his eyes turned to the contract that Igwe held in his hand. What contract was that? If he had not been planning to offer him a new position, what was he holding in his hand? Igwe noticed David's focus on the contract in his hand, and laughed. "You misunderstood. This is not a contract for you. I would like you to give Tammy her copy." "Tammy...my daughter... what contract?" David's throat went dry. His chest tightened. He felt suddenly ill. Igwe pushed the contract across the mahogany table. David's eyes fell to it. Not really wanted to read it. He could see the company seal. His heart pounded. "I have offered your daughter a contract of employment." "But...her visa is tied to my contract. She is not allowed to work." Igwe waved his hand in casual dismissal. "You should know that such technicalities are easily overcome in Africa." "But she is my daughter! She is only 18 years old!" "Quite old enough to work. Had you not noticed... she is a young woman now." David cursed inwardly. Talk of his daughter being a young woman brought up the image of her eagerly thrusting her jutting breast into the mouth of the greedily sucking Nasam Togbi. "I'm her father I think you should have discussed this with me first." Igwe smiled confidently back at David. "What sort of job have you offered her?" "Marketing...public relations... that sort of thing." "But she has no experience of that." David protested. "I have found your daughter to be biddable...easily trained." David's stomach tightened. "But...what would this job entail." "Corporate entertainment." David dithered. He did not really want to know what Igwe meant by corporate entertainment, especially in relation to his pretty daughter. "This contract. It's for eighteen months. That cannot be we leave in three months!" "You are perfectly at liberty to leave at the end of your contract Mr. Burton, and of course Sarah. You will see that Tammy's contract is under seal. Whatever you may do Mr. Burton Tammy will not be leaving. Don't worry your daughter will be well looked after." David's heart sank. The thought of his white teenage daughter being well looked after by Igwe Orizu and his black cronies was intolerable, but if they did not stay she would be on her own. Much as he disliked the situation, he could not leave Zimbabwe leaving his daughter behind. "But you cannot just sign up my daughter like this! Didn't you think to discuss this with me first?" "With you?" Igwe's incredulous tone, betrayed his view of David's importance in the matter. The moment was disrupted by bedlam breaking out. From the direction of the railway siding raised male voices were accompanied by a shrieking female voice. Igwe sighed. Why was running a business such a trial! Incompetents surrounded him! "Just give this to Tammy and tell she is expected at L'Escargo tonight at 7pm. If you want your contact renewed I will expect you to take her there to make sure she gets there safely." He rose, and crossed to the window, peering out in the direction of the railway siding. David rose, staring at the contract in his hand, while at the same time wondering at the escalating commotion outside. Was Igwe really expecting him drive his daughter to an assignation? L'Escargo was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, and the food was tremendous, as he knew only too well. Igwe released a curse, and turned for his office door, momentary surprised to see David was still in his office. "I..." he waved the paper in his hand. "Errr...what time should I pick Tammy up afterwards." Igwe frowned at David, was the man mad. Did he really think his daughter would be going home afterwards? He needed to get down to the siding. "Mr. Burton I have things to do." He strode out the door. "Back to work!" He roared at the faces pressed to the windows of the offices. He grinned as everyone jumped and quickly returned to their desks. He reached the end of the corridor and bounded down the stairs. "Michelle! You man the phone not the door!" Startled the young lady jumped. She glanced at Igwe's. A glance filled with fear and concern. Then she scuttled back to the reception desk. Igwe took a moment to enjoy the shock of wavy blond hair. The slim neck and as she leaned forward to tuck her chair in he enjoyed the view of the full firm orbs struggling not to burst from her low cut top. A sweet voice and a full bust were Igwe's primary requirements for a receptionist, and of course being pretty and white. It encouraged African businessmen to call and do business. Michelle oozed sexual promise, and one way or another Igwe delivered her up whenever a new contract was in the offing. ** He pulled open the door and strode outside into the hot African sun. It beat down hot and hard but Igwe thought nothing of it. Sun and heat was normal. Bedlam was also normal, but Igwe had little tolerance of it within his own business. Bedlam affected production! He roared at the milling Africans pushing and pulling each other around an opened railway carriage. The train had delivered a cargo of marble from the port of Beira in Mozambique. Had his workers found a stowaway? That was hardly new, or warranted this uproar! "Roger. What is going on?" He roared at Roger Bullivant. His 60 year old white head of security. The 60yo was a former Rhodie commando who had been happy to stay on a black controlled country. While Roger was normally belligerent and aggressive in his job, as fitted his history and role, he seemed to be on the outskirts of this group as an observer rather than breaking it up. At the sound of Ugwe's bellow he immediately burst into the group scattering the squabbling, grabbing and pushing Africans. Even at 60 years old he still commanded the respect of the Africans, whose respect for white people had grown rather than diminished as ordinary Africans watched with despair as more powerful Africans seized not just political power, but stole the country's wealth in blatant acts of corruption. Roger needed nothing but the power of his voice and a few shoves to separate the milling Africans from their frightened quarry. The sudden sight of long blond hair appearing as the Africans parted allowed Igwe to realise the cause of the bedlam. They had found a white female stowaway on the train, hard to believe as that was! Africans regularly risked life and limb to leap from bridges on to passing trains for a free ride back to Harare from Mutare, but a white doing the same was rare indeed. The African workers now that their attention on the blond white woman had been disrupted noticed that Igwe was bearing down on them and promptly scattered. "Chuku," Igwe shouted. Roger was speaking into his two-way radio, and a number of security guards were quick to respond. His chauffeur Dominic was already rushing to the scene. The young blond woman remained curled in a ball, her fear palpable. The rough attention of the African workers had left her in a state of terror. Igwe could see her trembling. "Here girl," he reached down offering her his hand. She looked up and quickly glanced around as though looking for a bolthole. She found none and returned to the speaker. She took in his immaculate suit and his well-groomed appearance. This was the man who had scared off much larger group of rough Africans. He looked like a Government Minister, or someone important. She reached up and took his hand, allowing him to pull her to feet. Even as she did so she glanced around. There were a few Africans workers still present, as well as the elderly white man who had done nothing to protect her from them. Her hand tightened on the black hand she grasped. "Tell Sarah to go and fetch some of Tammy's clothes. They should be suitable. Best if you take Sarah to her villa and bring her back Dominic with some clothes." His chauffeur strode off. "Roger, we will take her to the guest villa for her safety. Make sure it is guarded day and night." Roger nodded before delegating that job to two of the security guards present. "Chuku. Go and calm down the office and fetch some food from the canteen, and plenty of water!" He turned to the white girl tightly holding his hand. "Are you from Mozambique?" She nodded. "My parents farm...overrun by the rebels... they... they are dead!!!" He watched her brief struggle to control her emotions, but she held them back. She was tough, not like his soft expatriate staff. He guessed she had been brought up in Africa. Taught to control her emotions, especially in front of black men! No doubt she had experienced many days of fleeing and hiding to during which she had learned to put these things behind her. Lucky for him the rebels had not caught her. Was that a sign of resourcefulness? "What is your name?" "Hayley." "Well Hayley, you come with me and we will have a chat. We will have to decide what is to become of you." Igwe turned and led Hayley away from the offices, and the railway siding. They came upon an area that was marked by a pristine lawn and flowering shrubs. In the centre was a white washed cottage with a shaded veranda. Even as they approached Africans rushed to the building carrying trays, and even from this distance Hayley could smell the delicious aroma of hot food. Her body tensed and she leaned forward ready to run for the food, but the last remaining vestiges of her shattered dignity held her back, with Chuku strolling along behind grinning and swaggering. Igwe climbed the few short steps onto the veranda. Hayley savoured the coolness of the shade, and the relief from the hot sun, Igwe let her in to the interior of the cottage and waved at the array of foods prepared. Hayley looked at Igwe, and at his nod ravenously fell on the food. It had been 3 days since she had eaten. The watching Africans he dismissed including Chuku. He looked the girl over as she ravaged the delicately prepared food. His staff knew the importance that Igwe placed on entertaining guests. She was slim he noted, with nicely rounded hips. She could hardly be out of her teens. Her curves were not restricted to her derriere. Her breasts were full and jutting where they strained against her ragged clothing. Her legs looked shapely and full beneath her trousers. While she ate he walked over to the fridge. Inside as expected he found fresh orange juice. In the freezer he found ice cubes, which he was confident would have been made from bottled water. It had taken him time to train his staff not to offer his guests water taken from the tap. He mixed the two and returned to the white woman. When she saw what he held in his hands he could see the grateful relief in her eyes. As she took the drink from his hand, his other arm curled around the slim waist. She made no effort to pull away. He enjoyed the soft warmth of her curvy waist, and gave it a slight squeeze. He was gratified that she did not tense up, or seek to pull away. "Tell me Hayley, how long did you live in Mozambique?" She looked up at him, and he enjoyed the flecks in her blue eyes. "I was born there. I have never lived anywhere else. My parents took me to South Africa once." The sudden thought of parents sent quivers of emotion through her and he hugged her tight. He could feel her pull herself together. He admired that fortitude. "And in all those years have you come to an understanding of Africa?" She looked up at him. He wondered at the expression in her eyes and how well she had been able to hide her thoughts. "I have a through understanding, if not of Africa, of African men and what they want?" Igwe grinned and his hand caressed and squeezed that slim rounded waist. "So tell me Hayley. Who can I contact to help you?" Her eyes nevertheless wavered and she looked away. "Do you have any family in Zimbabwe?" "No." "Any aunts or uncles in Mozambique? You mentioned South Africa, did you visit relatives?" "No it was more of a business trip. I have no family left. My father was an only child. His parents died in a boating accident. My mother met my father when he was in England. I have never seen her family, who never once visited us." Igwe nodded, delighted in what he was hearing, though he did not let it show. "When you passed through Mutare's border you just hid on the train. No one even knows," his voice paused for a moment while his hand slid down over her hip, to caress the delightfully soft round curves of her bottom. She did not pull away. "No one even knows you are in Zimbabwe do they?" Hayley looked up at him. He felt her bottom flex and stretch in his hand, but still she made no move to pull away. "No, no-one...will you look after me?" Igwe grinned at the blonde teenager, with the soft warm curvy bottom. ** There was a knock at the door to the guest cottage. "Come in," Igwe called out. Sarah, the wife of one his white executive's bustled in, with a bundle of clothes under her arm. She looked straight across at the young white woman, a look of concern on her face. She took in the tray of food, and the drink in her hand. Then her attention was drawn to the ragged torn clothes. "I have brought some of Tammy's clothes." "Sarah, this is Hayley, why don't you take her through to the bathroom and see she has a shower." He squeezed Hayley's bottom as he urged her in the direction of the bathroom. As Sarah passed by following the girl he slapped Sarah's more rounded derriere. She frowned at him and he laughed, and made to lunge at her bottom again. Sarah squealed, and scampered from his groping hand. Flustered and embarrassed that he should behave this way in front of a strange woman. Though at the same time pleased that this man could make her feel like an attractive young woman again. Igwe watched them both disappear and reached for drink for himself. He passed thinking. She was cute little bundle but she was, clearly, used goods. The Africans on her father's farm probably had a good time with her. Taught her how to enjoy sex. Not like the innocent daughters and emotionally suppressed white wives her usually enjoyed debauching. He would have some fun, but he would find a more profitable use for her than his own entertainment. ** Half an hour later Hayley and Sarah emerged for the bathroom. The transformation in Hayley was dramatic. Her tiredness was still reflected in her eyes, but otherwise she was fresh and clean. Her hair, still damp, had lost the dust and burs picked up in the cattle truck. Sarah had dressed her in a long flowery dress. The strong sun shining through the window highlighted the curvy woman's body beneath. He smiled at the hovering Sarah. She had done a good job. "She has had a stressful time." Her concern over Igwe's immediate intention was obvious. "You may go now, Sarah," dismissing her concerns. As Sarah left he rose to his feet. He had prepared a Pimm's Nr 1 for the girl, no doubt its familiarity would provide her with some reassurance. The girl eyed the pint jug with desire for its cool refreshment. The jug was full of crushed ice, and slices of banana, apple, orange, and slices of avocado. The alcohol content mixed with lemonade was high. He handed her the drink and she took long eager gulps. "So you have lived all your life in Africa." Hayley nodded. "You say you understand African men." Hayley's eyes took on a wary look, but she nodded. "Would you like me find someone to look after you?" Igwe's hand rose to lightly stroke the side of her face. Hayley looked into his eyes and could see the carefully controlled lust. Her confidence returned. He was just like the rest. She nodded. He nodded back at her thoughtfully. "Nice dress, but it is in the way. Take it off." He noticed her nervous swallow, then her resolve firmed and she reached behind to release the buttons. In moments the dress lay on the floor by her feet. As expected she was naked underneath. Her body was shapely and full. A typical 18yo old, with full firm pink tipped breasts that had not a hint of sag. She had a slim waist, and shapely filled out thighs. Her mons had a light coating on blond hairs. She stood proudly before his gaze. She had none of the timid nervousness he found in confused expatriate women from the west. He had no doubt she was sexually experienced with black men. He removed his own clothes. He watched her eyes drop to his loins and take in the sight of his own stiff member. There was no alarm in those eyes as she took in his length and thickness, from which he concluded that there could be no further doubt that this white orphan had known black men before today. She made no attempt to get away as he approached and he slid his hand under chin and turned her face up to meet his. Her eyes were clear, with neither desire not fear. She had a lovely heart shaped face with soft lips. He lowered his head and kissed them. She made no attempt to pull away as his kiss became more demanding. His other hand slid around her slim waist and pulled her close. He savoured the heat and curves of her body pressed against him. His cock was crushed between their bodies and he enjoyed pushing it against her soft warmth. He took her hair in his hands and pulled her head back, and looked down at her pretty face. She looked back calmly and controlled. It surprised him that she should be so calm in these circumstances. He speculated that she had withdrawn into herself as a self-defence mechanism. Not that he cared for anything but the soft lush curves of her body, and the hot tight wetness that would satisfy his lust. His head lowered and he kissed the soft, pink cherubic lips. They parted easily to accept his tongue, though her tongue was perfunctory in response. He savoured the soft sweetness of those lips. Kissing them thoroughly, his tongue traced their soft curves as though he could lap up their sweetness. His left hand dropped to the easy softness of her round bottom. It never failed to delight him after spending so long in the bush fighting the white colonialists to be able to enjoy a different kind of crop. The young white women who the daughters of the white men he had fought so long ago. If only those white colonials could see him now, as a thick black finger slid down probing and tracing through the cleft of her white bottom. His finger probed at her bottom hole, and her failure to show alarm or concern served testimony to her sexual experience. His right hand stroked her face, caressed her fair head, his fingers trailing through her blond silk, slightly damp hair. Her eyes closed. He wondered if she was fighting her own response to his attentions. He urged her back onto the bed. She offered no resistance as he pushed her back. Her breasts were full, though not overlarge. He enjoyed their firmness, taking one in his hand as he rested on an elbow above. He took her left breast in his black hand and squeezed the soft malleable flesh in his hand. Enjoying the way her soft skin seemed to ooze out around his fingers. Tired of her easy compliance he squeezed the pink rose of her nipple hard, and enjoyed the sudden jerk and squirm of her slim body. At last a reaction, he thought. Though her eyes remained calm and untroubled, as though she had been expecting this treatment. Her breathing had quickened, with its consequent effect on her full, pert breasts. He grinned and lowered his head to take a swollen pink nipple into his mouth. He licked lightly swirling his tongue around the orb, before his teeth worried it. He raised his head, enjoying the comparison of one highly aroused darkened nipple, wet from his attention, and the still pink if erect nipple of her right breast. It remained untended for only a short time, before his teeth gripped tightly and he enjoyed her sudden alarmed squirming as shooting flashes of pain enveloped her chest. Tired of this preliminary play, his hand slid down over the curves or body, gliding over the slight curve of her stomach, and into the delta of her loins. Her lithe curvy legs slid apart to allow him easy access. He was almost disappointed to find her vulva already wet. His exploring fingers slid apart the entrance to feminine sheath. He decided to waste no further time and moved on top of her. Her thighs moved apart to accept him. He lined up his cock, enjoying briefly the hot wetness of her juices soaking his cock then he pushed inside. Her sheath opened and accepted him, and he slid deeper. He encountered little resistance and she merely grunted beneath him as he thrust harder. Her hands came up to grip his shoulders as he settled on top of her and began a rhythmic thrusting. After a few moments her shapely legs rose and encompassed him pulling him into her loins. He enjoyed the feel of her warmth but did not fool himself that she was becoming excited. This was a white woman who had learned to accept the attentions of African men. Learned to accommodate and please them. As he picked up his pace her arms went around him and she started to hump her hips to meet his thrusts. He looked down at her. She was such a pretty white woman, with her heart shaped face. Her blond hair seemed to flair out around her head as he humped and thrust. Her nose was small. Her teeth were biting her lower lip, perhaps betraying an excitement she was trying to hide. He buried his cock deep inside her and watched her lips part as he gasped. Yes he determined, she was not immune to sexual pleasure. He stepped up his thrusting. She was young, pretty and white and in his bed. His pace increased. The surge of his excitement burst inside and he collapsed on top of her. Not caring that his heavy black body crushed her. ** He rolled off her. Thoughts back on his business and what needed to be done. Taking Hayley had been a matter of demonstrating his power and testing her submission. It was over. She had not been particularly passionate or responsive, but then again she had gone through an ordeal. He smiled at the thought of her parents. Killed in Mozambique by rebels as they sought to get their daughter away from the rebels. She had fled from one group of black men straight into the bed of another. Wry irony filled his soul as his black hand patted her shapely white thigh. Then he rose from the bed and quickly dressed. "Wait here," he commanded as he left. As he strolled back to the office he reached for his mobile phone. Flicking it open he opened one of the folders and typed a two-word text message. "Auction 7pm." He speculated that Hayley would fetch £35,000 Stirling. She was young and pretty, but no virgin. He would have to make sure the bidders did not discover her passivity. He would make a nice profit at no investment. He suspected she would not complain about her new circumstances. He strode through the reception with a quick glance at Michelle. Her bust was prominently on display and a dazzling smile greeted him. He grinned once he had passed from her sight. Bounding up the stairs he noticed with some gratification that no one turned away from him back to their work. They were already working hard. He flopped down in his leather chair and glanced at his diary. Hah...Tuesday... it was his Philosophy Circle meeting tonight. His thoughts immediately focussed on the Ice Queen. His pet name for Angel Scott. He wondered if she would be there tonight. Probably she had taken fright and he would never see her at his Circle again. But if she did turn up, after what happened last week, then he would undoubtedly get in her knickers again! He grinned. Her emotional confusion would be fun to exploit. ** The door to the cottage opened and closed. Hayley looked up from the bed to see the black man standing there. At least she hoped he was a man. He looked more like a gorilla without hair. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. His pig like eyes seemed to devour her body as she lay there naked, tired and used. She sat up and looked around for something to cover herself with. The bed was bare except for the sheet she sat on. She heard the sound of the African taking a step towards her, and her head flicked back to him. She saw his eyes focus on her bouncing blond hair as if in wonder. She looked at him again and her breathing grew heavy. He was a brute of a man. No manners. No courtesy, or finesse. Big muscular, and lusting. Her heart started to pound. He took another step. His eyes had now switched to her breasts which now were rising and falling to match her own heavy breathing. She could see the desire in those eyes. Eyes that did not hide the fierce demanding lust. Her pussy flooded with liquid mixing with Igwe's sperm. She was much more excited now in the face of this black brute! She recognised him now. It the bodyguard... Chuku Olanes she thought his name was. As he took another step towards the bed she edged slowly back on the bed. He stopped, grinned in confident leering way that would have scared many women. Hayley's pussy throbbed in anticipation. She edged a few inches further back. She watched as he removed the suit jacket and carefully set it to one side. Igwe did not like his bodyguard wearing creased clothes. His trousers went next and she stared at his powerful muscular legs. They looked like tree trunks. She shivered. His shirt came next. His arms were so thick and muscled they would have made a heavyweight boxer look like a lightweight. Her lips opened and deep sigh seemed to escape her lips. He was so like Jo-Jo, her father's African foreman chargehand. The man who had taken her virginity... Taken had been the word. No courting, or flirting. No charming words. She had been going through a confusing period. She had always been a brat, but at that time he behaviour had been increasingly outrageous. On her fourteenth birthday Jo-Jo had found her thrashing her new birthday horse after it had bit her. A quietly furious Jo-Jo had snatched the whip from her hand. Seized her firmly and frog marched her into the barn. She had been so surprised, that she had allowed him to lead her. When she recovered from her surprise, she had sought to pull away and realised just how strong he was. Inside the barn he literally hurled over the straw bails, and before she recovered heat flared from her buttocks as the horse whip descended. Shocked she had just lain there as the blows descended. Then she started shrieking, but no one came to help. Her parents were at the Farmer's Market. Jo-Jo thrashed her and not one of the workers sought to interfere. Not much love or care for the bitch brat on that African farm. Later he tossed the whip down. The sound of their heavy breathing was the only sound in the barn. Then he had taken her clothes off. She had not resisted. He had not been gentle... that had only excited her more as he thrust through her virginity. The next night, after her parents had gone to sleep, she had sneaked out to the barn. He had been waiting, sitting on a bail of hay and lightly slapping his thigh with the horsewhip. Her confusion had departed with her panties. She finally found something interesting on the farm... When he flicked his wrist she had obediently lain across the bale of hay. ** Now hundreds of miles from home in another country. Chuku Olanes stood naked above her. His cock throbbing and erect bounced in front of her face. She turned and scrabbled across the bed. Chuku grinned as the luscious young white woman attempted to scramble away. He was not fooled. His hand grabbed for her ankle and hauled her back. A shriek escaped her. Not a loud shriek of course, not a shriek that would bring others running to the rescue. He enjoyed the feel of her squirming in his grasp. He pulled her easily towards him enjoying the sight of her curvy bottom shaking. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and pushed her down firmly. She lay before him, curvy bottom presented to him. He dropped to his knees behind her and grasped that bottom and pulled the soft curvy cheeks to expose the delicate dimple between. Unused, or at least not used recently! He saw the girl's hands tightly grip the sheets, and grinned at the knowledge that she knew what to expect. He did not wait or make preparations. He was horny. He thrust. Hayley shrieked, a full, throated and gratifyingly loud shriek. Chuku hoped the whole office had heard. Those white men that Igwe relied on to provide him with managerial expertise may earn a lot of money, but he wanted them to live in dread of Chuku Olanes and what he might do to their women! So he thrust again and Hayley shrieked again. That wail of pain gave him a shiver of pleasure. His hands grasped that slim white waist. He could feel the tension in the girl beneath him and he worked his cock deeper. His muscular body covered the girl, and his teeth sought that slender white neck and bit. Hayley gave one tremendous spasm, then she started to shake in an unmistakable orgasm. Continued in part 3... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 45