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An African Seduction - 3
by Author on Africa (author@uwclub.net)

***

As regular churchgoer Angels says 'No' to further sex 
with Igwe. Igwe, a domineering African businessman 
knows she doesn't really mean it. (MF, wife, reluc, 
intr)

***

(Revised and edited since 1st published on 
Literotica.com) 

Angel rose from her dressing table satisfied at last. 
She glanced at the clock 6.45pm. The Philosophy Circle 
met at 7pm. She had plenty of time; it took only five 
minutes to drive there. Her husband Mark would be 
waiting to drive her there and pick her up at 9.30pm as 
arranged as soon as she was ready.

She was tempted to ask him to pick her up earlier this 
time, but something restrained her. She should have 
strength and character to deal with Igwe Orizu!

It is not as if she short of experience of using her 
looks and charm to twirl men around her finger. But 
Igwe was different! She suppressed the errant thought. 

He was a man, and like all men mouldable and biddable 
when a pretty woman smiled. She would not allow what 
happened last time to be repeated. She would not!

Last week almost to the hour he had seduced her. She 
had been weak, unhappy, and he had exploited her mood 
to seduce her! She would not allow him to take 
advantage of her again!

She found herself thinking of his cock. That big thick 
black horse cock!

Her pussy started to moisten and she cursed her self, 
slapping her thigh hard to distract herself from such 
deviant thoughts.

She was happily married! She sighed, well not entirely 
happy. It had been 18 years and at times it seemed 
longer. Three children. She had given birth to Rebecca 
when she was just 17 years old to her own parent's 
quite fury. They had been too hidebound by convention 
to prevent her marrying Mark once they realised she was 
pregnant. Mark had defied their fears by remaining 
loyal and steadfast. Even when she had been sectioned 
and sent off to that horrible mental hospital he had 
stood by her. Helped her get back out again. Worked 
with tremendous patience to help her get back on her 
feet.

If only he had a bit more spark. She never once 
considered that her own random and frequently 
irrational behaviour had drained him in turn. 

Not that her behaviour was really irrational. She had 
to bite her tongue when the doctors said things like 
that. Impulsive yes, she took opportunities as they 
arose. That was not irrational.

Then her uplifted spirits fell again. Reminding herself 
that she had crashed the car three times in the last 
month!

She looked at the photograph of her second daughter 
Amanda, now 14 years old. Born three years after 
Rebecca. Amanda was a beauty even at 14! She reflected 
off her mother's beauty and Angel could not stop a 
smile resurfacing.

The smile soon fell. 

Here they were a successful, professional married 
couple, but their two eldest children were not with 
them, or at least not now. She felt their loss. Rebecca 
was back in England finishing off her sixth from 
studies after a brief visit. She would not come out to 
Zimbabwe for months. Only after she had finished her A 
level exams.

Amanda should be here, but she was not. She was instead 
just 15 minutes up the road in an exclusive boarding 
school. It had seemed irrational and mad to put their 
daughter in a boarding school so close to home.

Until they landed at Harare and she had seen the black 
hordes swarm like rampant elephants towards and around 
their daughter. It had been disturbing the way 14 year 
old Amanda had always attracted male attention. She had 
seemed impervious to that attention. She had never had 
a boyfriend in England. 

In England men were polite and those interested and 
politely sought to court Rebecca. Here in Africa 
courtesy was in short supply and sexual demand high.

The first hand to get up Amanda's skirt had been a 
black hand belong to a porter hauling luggage in the 
airport! She had been still 13 year old at the time and 
though Angel did not realise it Amanda had thought 
regularly about the warm black hand that had stroked 
her pussy at the airport. Shocking, as that had seemed 
at the time it had been only a taste of the aggressive 
sexual forwardness of the African male. 

Within a week of their arrival Amanda had her pussy 
stroked by a middle aged black man in the swimming pool 
of the hotel they had stayed at that first week. 

Her breasts had been fondled by a wealthy African 
sitting at an adjacent table during dinner in the 
exclusive and expensive L'Escargo restaurant. 

It was impossible to go to the shops without getting 
goosed and groped. 

Amanda had found it all unsettling, and Angel had been 
alarmed at her daughters acceptance of these random 
fondling by strangers. Suddenly the idea of an 
exclusive boarding school had seemed very sensible 
indeed.

They still saw her at weekends, but Angel struggled at 
times to understand how things had turned out. Giving 
birth to Robert two years ago had been a surprise. Soon 
that surprise had worn off as she had been reminded of 
the reality of young children!

Here in Harare they had a garden with two acres of 
land. She only had to open the patio door and Robert 
would disappear for hours. The African gardener kept a 
close eye on him.

Unfortunately Robert was fearless and only today had 
wandered back into the villa with his impish grin 
holding up for her inspection the green snake he had 
found. Angela had screamed in shock, setting Robert off 
in tears, and only agitating the snake.

A green snake! She had thought it was Green Mamba one 
of the deadliest in Zimbabwe. Kaifus the house domestic 
had ran into the room, and quickly ran out again, only 
upsetting her further. Daniel, the gardener had 
appeared soon after. He had taken the snake from Robert 
and taken it outside. Ignoring her screaming he had 
calmed Robert.

"Not mamba," he said. "Boomslang."

A Boomslang snake! 

Angel felt faint. 

The nearest antidote to a Boomslang bite was in 
Johannesburg, an eight-hour flight away. She might have 
been bitten!



So as she stood from her dressing table she was ready, 
indeed after today she felt a desperate need to escape 
and a night at the Philosophy Circle was just what she 
needed to clear today's event and calm her soul.

She could deal with Igwe Orizu. He was just a man after 
all. She glanced at her perfection in the mirror. Yes, 
fully armoured and protected by her beauty she could 
deal with any man.

**

"Oh wow! You look terrific." Mark looked up in amazed 
delight that his beloved Angel had taken trouble to 
look so good. After the last few months it was a relief 
to see her caring for herself again. 

It still surprised him that at 34 years old and three 
children his wife could look just as stunning now as 
when he first met him. Her natural grace, and high 
cheekbones were all the classic signs of a stylish 
woman. She looked far younger than she was, and he was 
confident that he had been lucky enough to marry a 
woman who would probably always retain those classic 
good looks.

Now her eyes had a fire and determination in them he 
had not seen in months. Light touches of her makeup 
highlighted those eyes and her lips had a gloss that 
stirred his cock.

Her lipstick was not heavy and overdone, just the light 
touches that emphasised their natural shape. He was 
relieved she had refrained from the slapdash approach 
to her make-up that over the last months had seemed to 
be a barrier to the world.

His wife looked as though she had finally re-entered 
the world, and his heart soared in relief. She was 
getting her act together again.

"Are your ready?"

She nodded back at him. He paused for a moment looking 
at her. She noticed at looked at him quizzically.

"Not sure I want to take you anywhere looking that 
good!"

She frowned at him suddenly worried. Mark heart jumped 
at that frown. The last thing he wanted to do was set 
off her fragile temperament. This Philosophy Circle 
seemed to be doing her the world of good. He had even 
encountered her humming to herself this week. 

"Just joking Honey! Let's get going."

**

The drive from the Greendale suburb to the Borrowdale 
suburb was short. It was also typical of this area with 
high walled exclusive luxury villas. Tree lined 
avenues. Flowering shrubs, with high bougainvillaea 
trees swaying slightly in the breeze, and little 
traffic. 

He passed a neighbourhood watch sign as they drove. He 
had joined the neighbourhood watch. Back in the UK he 
would have dismissed such an organisation as a just a 
group of nosy parkers.

Here where the police took two hours to cycle out to 
respond to a call, he had recognised that there was a 
real need for the community co-operation. He had been 
surprised to find Africans and Asians also in the 
group. It had so many members that he had only to do 
two 2-hour patrols a month.

The neighbourhood watch had been a way of meeting his 
neighbours that he had not expected. It had also been 
an eye-opener as to what went on after dark in even 
this respectable suburb.

The patrol members went out in different shifts. So far 
Mark had done four shifts from midnight to 2am and met 
a variety of mainly white members. In his first patrol 
he had been taken to what he discovered was their own 
Neighbourhood Watch Station. Here he had been inducted, 
shown how to use the handcuffs, and the police radio 
they were provided with. Not that they could contact 
the police with it.

The idea was to radio back to their own station which 
would be manned through by Geoff Stott. Geoff would 
then telephone around and Watch members and call them 
out to any trouble. Oh yes and tell the police, which 
was followed by a mix of jokes and bitterness about 
African police!

They had driven slowly and quietly around the suburb 
while George Cook, and Peter Roberts briefed him on 
procedures, what to expect, and how to react. 

Mark had been surprised at the thoroughness and 
discreet way they responded to strange vehicles in the 
area. It surprised him at how quickly they recognised a 
car from outside the suburb.

They had cruised past the closed and darkened Greendale 
shops and pulled up a few hundred yards tucking 
themselves off road under the spreading branches of a 
large tree. George wound the window down and the sound 
of loud music and raucous drunken laughter drifted 
through the night.

"What's that?" Mark asked.

"There is a bar up there. An African bar."

"I had never noticed it before."

"It's set back a bit. It's a cheap dive for the local 
domestics and gardeners. A place to avoid."

"I have never been in a place like that!"

"You never want to be! It's for blacks!" Peter's 
outburst barely suppressed his racism. Mark had been 
astonished to find just how deep seated was the racial 
prejudice of the local white population. His own view 
of the black population was he thought healthily 
balanced. He would treat each African as he found them.

"We pulled over to warn you about it. You have a wife 
don't you. Make sure she goes home from the shops via 
Stanton Road. You don't want her walking past this 
place even in daylight!"

"You should let her walk anywhere after it gets dark! 
They are bad enough during the day but once it gets 
dark no one is safe!" George added.

Mark took their comments with a pinch of salt. He had 
found most Africans friendly and hospitable. Except for 
those that were working for the controlling political 
party. They were a rum lot who seemed to have big chips 
on their shoulders, and were in turn just as bitter 
about whites as these local white men he was sharing 
his car with. 

There was a sudden silence in the car. Mark looked 
around to see what had taken their attention.

To his surprise a white woman was walking down the 
road. As she passed a streetlight he noted she was 
pretty. Probably in her early 20's. Wearing a typical 
lightweight flowery dress that seemed to flow around 
her as she strolled.

"It's Sharon Bowles," Peter mentioned. She lives nearby 
in Downing Road. Mark perked up. He and Angel lived in 
Downing Road. He had not seen this pretty woman before.

As she reached the dirt road, she paused. She looked 
carefully around. She glanced hard over at the car, but 
the shade of the tree hid them from her eyes. Then she 
looked again up and down the road. Mark could see her 
nod to herself then she stepped off the road and headed 
at a slightly quicker pace towards the noise and ruckus 
of the bar. 

"Bitch!" The retort burst from Peter Roberts. The 
vitriol in his voice was alarming. Mark restrained 
himself from comment. He was conscious that he was new 
and not wanting to upset potential new friendships.

"Filthy Slut!" George Cook's comment dripped hate. Mark 
was even more alarmed. He struggled with his own 
thoughts and responses.

"It might not be what you think."

George and Peter both turned to look at him. Disbelief 
and scorn on their faces. They struggled with their 
exasperation.

"Mark, have you ever taken your wife shopping in the 
Greendale suburbs?"

Mark nodded looking across at Peter. George butted in.

"Tell me Mark on those shopping trips has your wife 
ever groped and fondled?" Mark swallowed hard. It was 
impossible to take his wife, or daughter, shopping 
without some enterprising bold African, or two, or 
three demonstrating a physical interest!

His silence told.

"So what do you think happens at 1am in the morning 
when a white woman walks alone into a bar full of 
drunken Africans?"

At that moment he heard the door to the bar slam 
closed. Followed immediately by whooping and yelling 
breaking out in the bar.

Mark looked away.

The image of that pretty woman in her feminine flowery 
dress being fondled and groped... pulled across a bar 
table as horny Africans gathered around. He started 
fixedly out of the window and tried to suppress his 
sudden excitement at the thought of pretty Sharon 
Bowles being repeatedly fucked by those rowdy excited 
drunken Africans.

"Look Mark. I know you are fresh out from England with 
English ideas and tolerance and understanding but this 
is Africa." Mark turned back to George, and Peter piped 
up.

"Believe you me Mark, when a white woman takes black 
cock in Africa. It's just the start of the rot."

"Not that a white man would have anything to do with 
her again!" 

"Or even her own family if they found out!"

Mark looked at the Rhodies. He had no doubt their 
sincerity and passion. He wondered if they had any 
understanding if the depths of their own racism. He 
hoped he would never descend to such depths of despair 
as these two.

"Well I'm not sitting here, knowing what is going on 
over there!" George started the car and they drove off.

Strangely enough he never shared an evening patrol with 
George and Peter again. Not that he avoided patrols 
with others like them. Indeed their distrust of the 
Africans was behind their determination and 
perseverance with these night patrols. 

He also learned a lot about Harare at night and his 
neighbours. Clearly not all were so fervently anti-
black. He recalled the night with Joe Vogert, and Fred 
Smith. Their keen eyes had spotted a car deep in some 
woodland. Naturally suspicious they had approached from 
behind, parked quietly and closed with the vehicle. 

It was a large estate car, and the seats had been 
lowered. About ten feet from the car Joe said it was 
the Roberts car. It must have been stolen and 
abandoned. He was looking to see if any parts had been 
stolen, when the car seemed to shiver. 

They stepped back a moment, then Fred seemed to glide 
forward silently.

"Bitch! She's back to her old tricks!"

Mark stepped forward to look.

He could see a pair of white legs; a pumping black body 
hid the rest. His heart leapt in surprise. He had never 
seen others make love. Never been close to others 
indulging in sex. Here just a few feet away a white 
woman was illicitly engaging in sex with a black man. 
One of his most deep- rooted fantasies taking place 
literally feet away.

Joe waved them back. As they climbed back inside the 
car Mark looked between them.

"Do I take it that was Mrs. Roberts?"

They both nodded looking sour.

"I guess that was not Mr. Roberts?"

"Mike Roberts was crippled in the war. A mine blew up 
his armoured car."

"Aye, Africans planted that mine, and now his wife lets 
African men between her legs to get what she can't get 
from her husband anymore!"

"It's a disgrace."

"Something should be done about it." 

Joe and Fred looked at each other, then as though 
remembering his presence looked at Mark. Then they 
looked at each other as though making a secret 
agreement before looking away.

On another evening he was out on patrol with Karl Voigt 
and Donald Mc Donald when they had come across a villa 
with its gates open at 1am in the morning. The normal 
practice at such a find was to pay a visit to the owner 
and ask if he knew his gates were open.

To his surprise Donald had said no, and they had pulled 
up a few hundred yards away.

"Watch and wait," said Donald. "I know this house. I 
suspect her husband must be away. I don't think he has 
a clue what goes on when he is away. This is the sort 
of thing you need to see for yourself."

Karl wound his window down, and the subdued sounds of 
laughter and music came from the villa. 

A few minutes later three African men strolled down the 
road. Each carried packs of canned bear. Without 
hesitation they turned into the villa gates.

Donald nodded his head. 

"I heard Sue Clarke ran a wild house when her husband 
was away. Now we have seen it for ourselves."

Mark looked across at Karl who nodded.

"Burglars would never have walked in so openly carrying 
beers."

Mark could see the sense of that. They drove off 
shortly afterwards to look out for people who wanted 
protection. 

**

Now as Mark drove Angel to tonight's meeting he fell 
into what seemed a natural sweep of his surroundings.

Although it was evening the rich scent of flowering 
trees pervaded the warm African evening. The drive from 
the Greendale suburb to the Borrowdale was a seamless 
drive through secluded well maintained villa's that 
anywhere else in the world would costs hundreds of 
thousands, if not millions, but in Zimbabwe fetched 
prices in the low tens of thousands. An amount that was 
still an impossible dream for ordinary Africans.

He glanced across at Angel. She was reclining with her 
eyes shut, and he revelled in the picture perfect 
beauty of his wife. At times like this he could 
disregard the confused insecurity her tempers 
frequently displayed. The last few months had seen a 
marked improvement. 

Indeed this week they had made love to three times! He 
couldn't remember the last time they had made love 
three times in a week. He would happily take Angel to 
this Philosophy meet, or any other event if it helped 
her recovery, and their sex life improved as well

He glanced back at her and his gaze focussed on her 
breasts. Remarkably full and firm after three children. 
The way in which Angel had relaxed back into her seat, 
had perhaps without intention resulted in her full 
breasts standing full and firm from her body.

For a moment a brief image of black hands clasping and 
squeezing those perfect white orbs came to mind. It was 
a hugely exciting vision, but one he knew would never 
happen. His wife was far too conservative to indulge in 
an affair, especially with a black man. 

An image came of Angel replacing Sharon Bowles in that 
drunken rowdy bar, stretched across bar room tables in 
the greedy hands of lusting Africans. His cock 
embarrassingly sprang to attention!

He quickly dismissed it, although she denied it he 
suspected she had inherited a closet racism from her 
undoubtedly racist father.

He glanced back at her. She looked so peaceful in 
repose, with her head resting on the backrest. As usual 
she had applied very little make up, but even so she 
was lovely. 

Another image flashed into his head.

An African holding her pretty head firmly as he pushed 
a black cock between his wife's parted lips.

He suppressed the image, even as he did so he wondered 
if he wanted to suppress such a fanciful image. 
Fanciful indeed, in eighteen years of marriage his wife 
had sucked his cock only three times, and then only 
half-heartedly, and certainly not to completion!

The idea that a black man might persuade her to suck 
cock was mere fantasy. Though he mused it would be nice 
fantasy to think about. He loved his wife, but to say 
she was conservative sexually was a huge 
understatement.

It seemed ironic that such a beautiful woman could have 
such a low interest in sex. He had no doubt that many 
men would look at his wife and desire her. He smiled, 
as he pondered if their interest would survive 
discovering her low sex drive.

They arrived at the luxury villa in Borrowdale, which 
hosted the meet. As he arrived some cars were leaving. 
Others were pulling up, or parking at the main house. 
He turned in and drove up the long drive.

He had never met the owner, and Angel had never 
discussed their host. As he pulled over Angel jumped 
out and he glanced at the others arriving and going 
into the villa. It was 7pm. 

"9:30!" Angel called as she left.

As he had noticed earlier, all those arriving for the 
meet where white women. Most of the women seemed to be 
between 25 and 35years old. Angel despite being one of 
the older women was better looking than all of them!

That fact gave him quiet pride. 

He also noticed that like Angel all the visiting women 
were dressed in their feminine best. It came to him 
that they were a prime example of the beautiful white 
flowers of Rhodesia, or Zimbabwe, as it was now known.

He watched as Angel strolled across to the villa's 
entrance and took quite pride in her effortless grace. 
Her hips swayed in a feminine, but not brazen manner.

He smiled as he turned the car and headed home.

**

The evening seemed to pass to quickly for Angel. The 
discussion was lively and interesting. In the past they 
had discussed the idealism of Plato, and the ethics of 
Socrates, and the logic of Aristotle.

Tonight, however, they had discussed a relatively 
modern philosophy of Nietzsche. Igwe clearly held to 
this philosophy and the freedom of any individual to 
create their own values. This concept had led to a 
vigorous debate as Angel realised her own deep belief 
in Catholicism might be at jeopardy by such a 
philosophy.

However, Igwe pointed to Africa, was reputedly the site 
of the Garden of Eden. He pointed out in graphic detail 
the poverty, starvation, and chronic disease that 
bedevilled the continent. Africa he pointed out was the 
closest continent to the birthplace of the Christ 
child, and yet in Africa it was not the meek that ruled 
but the strong and the powerful.

"Men like myself have the power of life and death in 
Zimbabwe," he explained. 

Words that startled Angel out of her thoughts. She was 
not accustomed to such stark concepts. Then she 
recovered herself. Igwe was charming and intelligent. A 
man capable of discussing philosophy in such deep and 
meaningful terms was not a man to wield the power of 
life and death harshly.

She looked at him more closely. 

She had never known a man who had such power. Was he 
serious? She felt a strange shiver run through her and 
wondered at its meaning.

Igwe demonstrated by example, not just in Zimbabwe, but 
also across Africa how men with money and power 
dominated the continent and took what they wanted from 
it. 

While at the same time they found a ready audience of 
followers who were only to ready to blame western 
companies, and the previous colonial powers for their 
current misfortune.

He Igwe, had wealth, and that wealth gave him power. 
While he paid the ruling party a tithe of his earnings 
that grateful body overlooked minor matters like tax, 
and the occasional disappearances.

"Police officers would jump to his command for a 
trivial sum of money. Though it seemed a fortune to 
them Money made the law in Africa!"

"Africa was a continent that proved Nietzsche right. 
Moreover, it was the black man who held power! Not 
white men."

"Here it was black men who were strong and positive, 
while white men were nervous and on the defensive."

"It was men, and men like him, who found it easy to 
impose their will on the weak and the worthless."

"There was a time when the white men ruled in Africa. 
Those days are over."

"Power lies with a handful of men like Igwe Orizu," 
pointing to himself, "in countries across Africa."

 He looked across the room as the white women hanging 
on to his every word. Every one of which, he had taken 
his pleasure with. Even the Ice Queen herself.

"Now in Africa when a black man like me wants a white 
woman in his bed he just takes her, and there is no one 
who can stop him doing so."

His gaze swept across the now tittering and giggling 
women, and his eyes met and held those of the Ice 
Queen.

He would not have called her that if he understood how 
quickly her nipples hardened under his gaze. Her breath 
caught in her throat, and her pussy suddenly 
inexplicably turned into a swampy morass that steamed.

That comment seemed to close the meeting and a few 
women stayed for coffee. It was 8.30pm and David was 
due to pick her up at 9.30pm. Why had she not told him 
to pick her up earlier? She sipped her coffee listening 
to the idle chatter discussing the latest shortages.

As Helen Baxter rose to leave Angel realised she would 
be the only one left if she remained. It was only 9pm 
but she could not risk remaining in this house alone 
with Igwe. 

She rose and joined Helen in expressing her 
satisfaction at the evening and her thanks to Igwe and 
headed for the door with the other woman.

She had almost escaped when Igwe's asked her to stay a 
moment. Her heart jumped and butterflies swarmed in her 
stomach. She quickened her pace, but his hand caught 
hers holding her back.

"Helen," Angel called out to the other woman to 
encourage her to wait. To her alarm the word came out 
in a high squeak. Helen glanced back just as Igwe came 
up behind her and his arm encircled Angel's waist.

"Helen, wait a moment please?" she asked.

Helen glanced quickly at Angel, and then at Igwe. She 
ignored Angel's beseeching eyes request, and closed the 
door behind her. Angel could swear she had seen 
amusement in Helen's eyes.

The door clicked shut.

Angel was about to speak when she felt Igwe's hot 
breath on her slender neck. She shivered, and then 
sought to free herself from the arm around her waist.

"It was a mistake." She gasped as she struggled to push 
his arm away. Referring to last week's passionate 
lovemaking.

"It was meant to be." His voice was soft and 
mesmerising, now his hot breath was wafting across her 
delicate white ear.

Angel could feel herself trembling, and cursed her 
treacherous body. She grasped his arm and was 
astonished at how hard and firm it was. Her efforts to 
pull his arm free had no effect. It would have been 
very easy to push her husband away, but Igwe's arm was 
locked around her waist was an immovable object.

"Igwe! I'm married. I can't do this!"

Behind her Igwe's response was a low purr of 
appreciation as his free hand rose up and clasped one 
of Angel's full firm breasts in his hand.

"Oh! No! Please!"

Igwe's black hand cupped and fondled the white 
fullness, delighting in its shape and firmness. Between 
the light fabric of her dress he could feel that 
Angel's brassiere was light and lacy. The sort of 
brassiere a woman wore when she was expecting intimate 
attention.

He grinned and lowered his lips to the slender white 
neck and lightly trailed kisses along its perfection.

Angel's head fell back, flopped to one side, as his 
lips feasted. Then she struggled anew. Knowing full 
well the adulterous penalty of allowing him to 
continue. 

"No! I said No!" Angel shouted her protest desperate 
now, as her own female body reacted with its own quick 
recognition of the presence of a warm strong male 
wishing to mate.

She struggled to walk towards the now closed door, but 
Igwe pulled her back towards him and her curvy derriere 
was pulled against his loins.

Immediately she felt the hot hard maleness push up 
against her soft bottom. She sought to pull her hips 
away, but Igwe was not having it.

Holding her firmly around the waist. Igwe sensuously 
rubbed his hardness in the soft round curves of the 
married white woman. She was no naïve innocent, and 
knew the power and strength of the male member pressing 
into her.

Her pussy throbbed and liquefied.

Angel nearly wept with frustration and anger at her 
misuse. She cursed herself for coming back here after 
he had taken advantage of her last week. This man was 
not polite and considerate like her husband.

He was an animal!

A black animal with a hard cock, a throbbing cock, that 
was sliding and pushing firmly and hotly between the 
soft cheeks of her bottom pushing them apart.

Her pussy throbbed and purred in response. 

Despite her best intentions her body was reacting with 
eager delight at his forceful attentions. Igwe's charm 
and intelligence having been replaced with an animal 
lust that was threatening to overwhelm her senses.

Suddenly she was free, and she jumped forward. Then she 
turned intent on a blistering retort, only to find Igwe 
close behind and his mouth descending on hers.

"Umphh," her retort stifled by his hot demanding lips 
crushing hers.

Her hands came up intent on pushing him away. Somehow 
she found herself holding him close as their lips 
locked and her tongue was eagerly responding to his 
demanding invasion of her mouth.

He stepped forward and she found herself sandwiched 
between the wall of the hallway and his hard warm black 
body.

Again she tried to push him away but his hard black 
body was immovable. She was overcome by the strong 
scent of his male arousal. His large cock was now 
pressed firmly against the welcoming curve of her soft 
stomach. 

It's length and hardness seemed thicker and longer that 
she had remembered. Nothing could be that long and 
thick! Her brain was in turmoil even as his hands were 
under her skirt exploring upwards. 

She renewed her struggle squirming in his grasp. Her 
treacherous nipples had exploded into thickened pointy 
hardness. As she squirmed against Igwe they rubbed 
against his chest sending flashes of desire and 
excitement between their excited tips and her 
overexcited loins.

Igwe could feel the married white woman's hardened 
nipples rub and brush against him as his body held her 
pinned against the wall.

White women! They were so alike. Protesting their 
innocence. Denying their needs even as their bodies 
blazoned to the world their desire for sex. 

His hands rose along the soft curves of her upper 
thighs, enjoying their soft warmth. Stroking and 
caressing the soft inner skin with his hands he could 
feel the woman tremble violently. 

His hands slipped up over the full curves of her bouncy 
derriere and grasped and moulded the full curves 
pulling her close to him and his eager throbbing cock.

"No," her voice was a low whisper in his ear. A last 
desperate pleading as he marvelled at the soft lacy 
knickers he had discovered. He grinned as he realised 
she had come to his meeting tonight not in the safe 
protective cotton panties of a woman married 18 years. 
She had come to him in knickers designed to inflame and 
arouse.

He grinned and tore them apart. 

Angel wailed and pushed and shoved, and could not stop 
herself revelling in the hot hardness pushing her skirt 
between her legs. Her dress was her last protection.

"My husband...please... I'm married... I can't... not 
again."

The words were music in the ears of Igwe. There was 
nothing quite like breaking in married white woman 
emotionally confused and aroused against her will.

He knew what was needed now.

He withdrew his hands and pulled back from her. He 
could feel her body surge forward seeking to keep 
contact with his. Her arms once pushing him away now 
hung tight on his shoulders.

He took her face in his hands. Stroking the soft white 
cheeks, he turned her face up towards his. He met her 
eyes concentrating all the warmth and confidence he 
could muster.

"This is right Angel. This is how it must be."

"But I am married to Mark."

"I love you Angel."

He watched her eyes widen.

"You love me," her voice stammered.

"Of course. How could I not?"

"But... but... but," her confusion was cut short by the 
feel of his aroused cock pushing and sliding 
deliciously between her legs.

"I know you love me Angel."

"But I can't love you..."

"I know you do. Your body could not possibly react like 
this to anyone other than a man you loved."

As if to prove his words his hands dropped to and 
enveloped her full thrusting breasts. His palms gliding 
over the aroused stiff nipples sending shooting streams 
of pleasure that seemed to choreograph with the pulsing 
needs of her loins. 

She shivered and pushed her aching breasts into his 
hands. It made sense. She could not remember feeling so 
aroused and excited.

She looked up at him trying to think but his bruising 
mouth crushed hers and she gasped into his hot mouth. 
After a moment's hesitation her tongue sort out his and 
she was borne back to the wall.

Igwe could sense the collapse of resistance. His hands 
were back under her skirt. She needed time to think but 
her skirt was being pushed up to her waist and she 
found herself clutching it high out of the way as that 
hot throbbing masculine hardness finally found its way 
between softness of her silken thighs.

Its heat seemed to scorch her inner thighs as it urged 
her spreading thighs apart. It throbbed and pulsed 
against her skin and she remembered what it had felt 
like last time.

Hot wet liquid seemed to slide over her skin and she 
realised it was his excited pre-cum leaking from the 
head of his cock as it excitedly rubbed between her 
shapely legs.

Then she gasped as Igwe hoisted her into the air. She 
marvelled at his strength, as he lifter her high and 
pushed back against the wall. His hands pulled her legs 
apart and she realised she was at a height that matched 
her loins with his cock.

Her head fell forward onto his shoulder and waited for 
the inevitable.

He loved her! It must be alright!

His cock thrust upwards and like an Assegai spear 
seemed to penetrate deep at the first thrust.

Her toes curled.

Her hands clasped his shoulders.

He thrust again...deeper.

She bit her lip in an anguished attempt at self-
control.

He thrust again and she screamed her pleasure.

She could feel Igwe's shoulders shake and wondered at 
his own pleasure.

Then his cock started to withdraw and she sought to 
clasp it tightly shocking herself. Her tight grasp on 
his cock seemed to make no difference to its slithery 
withdrawal but then he thrust again and she gasped her 
relief into his neck.

She did not want this to stop. No not anytime soon!!!

Igwe was bouncing and thrusting beneath and she could 
feel his cock throbbing and jerking inside her. She 
felt so stretched. It was just as wonderful as she 
remembered.

Could anything match the pleasure this cock was giving 
her. Igwe was right. This was perfect. This was right. 
It must be love. She wrapped her arms around him and 
hugged him tight.

Igwe had felt the surrender of the soft woman's body 
beneath his hands. Now he felt the change of mood 
inside her again. Her breath was hot on his neck, as he 
thrust and pounded inter her inner tightness.

"Igwe. Igwe," she gasped in his ear. "I love you too... 
I do!"

She stretched her legs wide in the grip of his hands, 
opening herself wide to his black thrusting maleness. 
Let him take her! Let him do as he will!

He loved her! It was OK! She couldn't be unfaithful if 
she was with a man who loved her! Not when it felt so 
wonderful!

She felt movement below her then heavy black balls 
seemed to slap against her loins. She had taken it all! 
She grinned and held herself wide.

This was nothing like anything she had experienced 
before.

With her husband she had dutifully lain back and 
enjoyed his vigorous thrusting atop her. Here up 
against this wall she was being bounced and jerked 
around. His cock was thrusting and probing in parts 
that had been rarely touched. She could swear any 
moment now he would punch through her uterus and his 
thick cock head would be in her womb!

This fucking against the wall had her quivering and 
jerking. Her full bottom was being jerked against the 
wall with every thrust. Instead of passively accepting 
her husband's thrusts she found herself grasping at his 
cock with her pussy in a most unladylike way! 

Her loins were being thrown against the wall, bouncing 
off and as she bounced she found herself grasping and 
twisting on his cock in a way she had never done 
before. She did not want that cock escaping the hot 
sheath between her legs. 

Never before had sex been this good!

**

A car horn sounded outside.

Igwe thrust, and an acquiescent pussy grasped and 
squeezed.

"Your husband," Igwe grasped.

"Damn!" Angel hung in tight.

"Want me to stop?"

"Oh God No! Don't stop!"

"But your husband?"

Angel's words were muffled in his neck as she 
vigorously sought satisfaction from the thick length of 
black meat buried in her pussy.

"Don't stop, Oh please don't stop!"

The words were music in Igwe's ear. 

Angel would be his now. It would only be a matter of 
time before she was broken in. He would have her eating 
sperm from his hand in weeks. His friends would be 
delighted to try her out!

A married white women begging a black man not to stop 
fucking her while her white husband sat in his car a 
few feet away waiting.

It was a scenario that Igwe found deeply satisfying. 

Too satisfying. His seed rose and surged into the 
receptive female sheath like the blow' from a whale.

He listened to Angels desperate wail as she felt his 
seed surge inside her. Then her own orgasm overcame 
her. He held her shaking tremulous body against for a 
moment. Helping her calm down.

"Get dressed. You husband will be coming through the 
door in a minute!"

Startled and shaken, still trying to recover. Angel 
pulled her clothes straight, finding her panties were a 
shredded wreck. 

She would have to go home with her husband without 
panties on!

She quickly sprayed herself with perfume from her 
handbag to try and overpower the smell of sex and the 
African male who had just made love to her.

She stopped at the door before she could turn he had 
taken her in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

Heart pounding Angel opened the door and slipped 
outside to join her husband.

**

Igwe watched as Angel climbed into her husband's car. 
He wondered if her husband was one of those who minded 
his wife taking a black lover. Angel would be unable to 
keep it secret for too much longer.

He turned and picked up his glass. He would leave the 
rest for his servant to clean up.

He padded through the house. His cock naked and wet 
from their love-making, still hung from his trousers.

He walked into his bedroom. A rumpled mop of blond hair 
stirred and turned up to look at him. He grinned at 
Michelle his buxom blonde receptionist. When he had 
bought the stone making business from her father he had 
promised to keep the girl on with a secure job.

Her eyes had already fallen to his glistening length of 
black cock.

"Lick me clean" he commanded.

There was a momentary resentment flash in her eyes, and 
then she scuttled across the bed. Her soft 18 year-old 
mouth slid over his cock and her soft tongue started 
licking him clean.

His hand rested to drop onto her blond curls.

He grinned wishing her white father could see how he 
was keeping his daughter in gainful employment.

**

Mark quickly drove Angel home. There was something 
different about her tonight. She seemed to have a 
radiant glow about her. He asked her about the evening 
and to his surprise she chatted about Nietzsche, the 
German philosopher.

Back at home they both potted around tidying up and 
chatting. Then Angel announced she was having an early 
night, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Mark's head raced. Angel looked truly wonderful this 
evening that radiant flushed look she had been 
particularly pronounced. Had her decision to have an 
early night been a subtle message that she was open to 
sex tonight?

He grinned and his cock hardened.

He wanted sex with his wife tonight!

When Angel came out of the bathroom she was alarmed to 
see Mark grinning at her from their bed. His arousal 
defined by the bedclothes.

Her husband wanted to make love!

Flustered her thoughts scattered.

"Come here honey."

Angel smiled at Mark, successfully hiding her 
consternation. She was confused she loved Igwe now, and 
Igwe had said he loved her. Could she make love to her 
husband?

Husband!

Yes, he was still her husband. Especially before God, 
and a panicky fear filled her that she had condemned 
her soul by allowing Igwe to have her. 

But Igwe loved her!

It couldn't be wrong to make love to someone who loved 
her, and it had felt so good!

She flushed a deep pink.

Mark grinned at the sight of his conservative wife 
flushing at Mark's desire for sex with her.

She was so innocent and charming when it came to sex.

"I...I am not sure." She slipped into bed beside him. 
"I'm tired."

Mark cuddled up to her. His hands stroked her legs, 
exploring the soft inner skin of her upper thigh. He 
loved the feel of that satiny softness. As his hands 
rose higher Angel desperately grasped his hand before 
it reached her pussy. She had tried to clean herself up 
but she was still very wet.

Not knowing how best to distract him she brought his 
hands up to her breasts. His eager hands were happy to 
accept the alternative offering.

 She tried to think of a way to distract him from sex 
tonight, but she felt so languorous and fulfilled that 
she struggled to find a put down to keep her husband at 
bay.

As his hands played with her breasts her nipples burst 
into a fierce hardness and she cursed her treacherous 
body.

"Wow, you really are excited tonight."

His mouth sought out one of those thickened, darkened 
nipples.

"Oh wow honey, I don't think I have ever seen your 
nipples so aroused and excited.

Angel cursed her body. She could hardly explain to her 
husband that her nipples were so aroused because they 
were expecting more of the vigorous demanding sex that 
Igwe had given her that evening.

How could she refuse her lawful husband when she had 
given herself so eagerly to Igwe?

Mark's hands sought to explore between her legs again. 
She had to do something about this! She was not ready 
to try and explain to her besotted husband that she was 
letting a black man have his way with her. 

How could he still love her so much after 18 years?

She pulled his hands away and urged him to mount her 
now! Wide eyed in surprise Mark hastily complied. 
Usually he had to work hard to get Angel aroused and 
eager.

He slid himself between his wife's full shapely thighs 
and felt them rise up on either side of him. A sure 
sign she was excited. 

Her hands pushed aside his and sought his member. 
Seeking to direct between her legs. 

To his complete and utter shock he slid all the way 
inside his wife with only one thrust! He normally hard 
to work hard to get his cock all the way inside, and 
she was so wet!

"Oh God Wow!" he gasped above her.

He was so taken up with the experience he missed Angels 
worried frown.

He brought his hips back sliding his cock out before 
thrusting back in.

He could not believe just how excited his wife was! He 
had never known her like this. She felt so slippery 
with wetness.

He did not know what had gotten his wife in this state 
but as far as he was concerned these Philosophy classes 
were doing the trick!!!

He hunched forward and buried his face in Angel's neck, 
kissing and licking and hiding his face from her.

This was so incredible. He worked his cock fiercely 
inside Angel.

Oh Wow! Oh God! This was incredible.

In all the fantasies he had indulged in this feeling 
between his wife's legs was just as he has imagined it 
would be like to make love to his wife after another 
man!

Ashamed to think such perverse thoughts her hid his 
face in neck and eagerly thrust.

Beneath him Angel was struggling to know how to respond 
to her husband's eager lovemaking. Usually she would 
lie passive and enjoy his attempts to please her.

She struggled with a new urge to take a more aggressive 
role.

Her own desire for fulfillment rose to the fore and the 
clasped her pussy around Mark's cock. The hot air from 
his surprised gasp filled her ear. It was only as she 
tried to grasp him that she realised how wet and 
slippery her pussy was! Frustrated, she rose her hips 
off the bed and wriggled them around.

The effect on her husband was galvanic.

"Oh wow! Oh God Honey," then he gasped and came inside.

He lay in her arms blurting out his apologies.

She cradled her in his arms, soothing and reassuring 
him.

Even as she did that her mind turned to Igwe's long 
black cock and the pleasure it had given her. He would 
not have come so quickly.

END

(I hope you have enjoyed the stories. My future stories 
will not be called African Seduction Ch 1, 2 , 3 etc 
which I and I am sure others will find boring! So I 
will give them their own separate titles. They will 
however in a totally 'fictional' way continue to 
reflect our experiences and observations in Africa.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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