Therese soon felt a thick hard object invade the dainty crevice of her bottom, thrusting inexorably forward. It was almost more than she could bear, but when he tickled her clitoris with a sage forefinger and drew her to her first girlish spending, her muscles expanded and contracted and thus aided his inroads till at last she felt the hot drench of his gism. He kissed and caressed her, praised her docility; then, washed, her clothes back in place and hair combed, she was sent away, promising to return the next Thursday.
This little liaison lasted several years without her parents or friends suspecting. Moreover, quite apart from theology, Therese had learned many things from these singular lessons and she was always to cherish her memories and knowledge. At boarding school, she learned of games with her own sex, and when she finally entered the convent, she did not forget the joys which the priest had dispensed, for she acquired a superb dildo, realizing that in the convent there would be no men like him to satisfy her needs. She initiated several sisters, so that she might always calm the fiery urges of her passionate nature. Sent to Fort-Lamy to this sanitarium, she brought her dildo with her. I can well imagine what the customs officer must have thought when, searching her luggage, he came upon that simulacrum, but of course, since it was not prohibited, he simply closed the suitcase and wished her happiness in her new home.
However, since she was the only nurse in the ward to which she was assigned, she was reduced to satisfying herself or, on rare occasions, with a patient who was not too ill, such as Martine. And in two all too short weeks Martine was pronounced cured, greatly to the despair of not only Therese but also Conception.
Our little household joyously welcomed her return, especially my master Prosper who had believed her lost forever. During her stay at the sanitarium, he had given up his passion for stamps so as to devote himself entirely to this plantation and to his niece who had revealed to him the divine joys of the flesh.
To celebrate Martine's return, I organized a little party, aided by Marivol and Bouzian, who suggested that we invite Lakian as well as the charming Creole and his mistress, Blanchette. Martine clapped her hands with joy at the idea, and Marivol surpassed herself in the kitchen. After a wealth of appetizers, she offered us delicious couscous in which curry, red pepper, and cinnamon were blended to produce an aphrodisiacal effect.
The meal over, Marivol rose and exclaimed, “It's too hot in here. I'm going to go naked for comfort.” Blanchette followed her example, and the coffee-colored skin of her svelte body excited me enormously. Martine gleefully ordered all of us to be naked, as she pranced about the room, casting her garments hither and yon. It was the signal for action.
Bouzian seized Blanchette whom he had long coveted, stretched her out on a mat, and began at once to fuck her. She spread her thighs eagerly, seized the rigid weapon he presented her and directed it towards her rosy slit. Her legs wound round his buttocks as she adapted herself to his vigorous ploughing rhythm. Marivol pushed my master back onto his cushion, saying, “Marivol, she always want to be fucked by you. I very hot today, you take care of me, master.” He was the only man who had not made love to her, but on this day she had vowed to enjoy him, and had plotted with Bouzian to win him, for in the past he seemed always to spurn her.
Her mouth fused with his; seizing with one hand his swollen ramrod, she thrust it home into her fiery cunt, and then, clasping her arms round him, began the frenetic cadence to which he was constrained to follow. After the first shock of her aggressiveness, I will say that my master joined forces with her in a manner that utterly contented her furious desires.
As for Lakian, he wanted to enjoy Martine, and stretched her out on the table. Kneeling, he bowed his head to her furry oasis and began to lick it. His thick, raspy tongue furled down along the delicate, sensitive passage connecting her two orifices of pleasure, back and forth, probing just inside the rosebud of her bottomhole, thence back to her pussy, whose stiffening lovebutton he found and saluted. Pamela — for she was thus once again — uttered a cry of bliss and wrapped her nervously flexing thighs round his neck, groaning: “Lick, Lakian — oooh, it's so good — ahh, you're making me cream — ooooh, bury your tongue deeper into me, ohhhh!”
Her belly frantically weaved and writhed till at last she gave down her lovedew, and Lakian's expert tongue devoured every drop. Pamela fell back, assuaged. But he didn't want to stop there. Taking advantage of her abandoned pose, he pressed the head of his prodigious cock between the palpitating pink lips of her cunny. Pamela, opening her eyes, tried to evade this act, but he held her tightly, growling, “Me lick your bung good, now me fuck you too, otherwise me bugger you good and hard!” Realizing the futility of resistance, Pamela did her best to aid his entry into her tight sheath. Stoically, she let it be shoved into her, trying to facilitate the difficult passage by wriggling her abdomen. But soon the burning sensations evoked by that prodigious battering-ram of flesh and gristle rekindled the flame of lust which ceaselessly burned deep within her. Stretched though her cunny- was by his enormous spear, the maddening friction it caused her vaginal walls overcame the discomfort of that distension, and she clutched him with arms and legs, bucking and writhing to meet his vigorous digs. Lakian, enraptured by her enthusiastic collaboration, did not take long to deluge her matrix with his furious jet. Yet he went on fucking, his mighty tool still rigid, lifting Pamela's shivering naked body with every eviscerating thrust. Finally, appeased, he withdrew, while Pamela lay with arms and legs spread out, annihilated by this doubly hard and long wooing.
And what did I do all this time, you ask? Well, for quite a time I watched with admiration these two charming tableaux, till my cock demanded satisfaction. At first I thought of using my hand to ease my anguish, but the sight of Marivol's wriggling bottom as she lay mounted over my master gave me quite a better idea. Seizing her haunches while she and my master still continued their feverish fuck, I aimed my spear at the rosebud of her anus, and soon my cock was buried to the hilt inside that tight, hot, churning sheath. At each of my thrusts, I could feel my master's cock almost join mine, separated by the thinnest of membranes. We regulated our cadence till Marivol tasted the bliss of spending. Her body heaved and quaked, her cries were deafening, and I had to cling tightly to her lest I be flung off.
It was the first time I had ever buggered a woman while she was being fucked, and I swear that no other experience in all the annals of sexual pleasure can so gratify my cock. At last we went to our rooms to sleep, and this time, I know that no phantom crept into my master's room to disturb his deep slumber!
He, in fact, was first to waken the next morning, and went to his niece's room to discuss with her the idea of a trip which he had thought about. He found Martine-Pamela still asleep, the covers flung off and her nightgown tucked up to escape the oppressive heat. He stood admiring her voluptuous young body, reminiscing on how Bouzian's friend Lakian had licked, then fucked that dainty cunny of hers. And the images thus evoked roused him to new exploits of desire as he felt his prick stiffen under his robe. Seating himself gently on the edge of her bed, he passed his palm over her gently swelling bare titties, insistently rubbing the dark coral tidbits of her nipples which soon hardened. Her body began to squirm, her bosom to rise and fall more quickly, and with a great sigh, she opened her eyes. “Oh, my God — then it's true, it wasn't a dream! Oh, darling Unkie, you woke me in the most delicious way!”
My master took this as carte blanche, and at once put his lips to a turgid lovebud; from there, his lips and tongue roamed down her belly to the dark-golden fleece of her cunny. Parting those intimate petals, he revealed the diadem of her clitoris, and his tonguetip rasped against it lingeringly. Pamela went into a trance under such expert caresses; a fit of trembling seized her, and her pussy grew avid for fulfillment. Pushing his face away, she gasped, “Quick, Unkie, ooh, take me — I want to be fucked till I come! Ohh, hurry and shove that big darling cock of yours way inside me!”
Opening her arms, she drew him down to her writhing naked body. My master plunged his cock into her impatient quim, as Pamela arched herself furiously, wanting to feel the tip of his organ scrape the very bottom of her womb. She began to buck like a mare in heat, her titties rising and falling with a feverish rhythm. “Ohh, dig it harder into me, Unkie — ooh, yes, deeper, harder, don't spare me!” she wailed. And as he quickened his tempo, she babbled, “Yes — ahh — like that — ohh, harder — still harder — ohh, Unkie, I'm coming… I'm coming… how good it is! Ahh, don't ever stop, oh do go on that way — yes — ahh, you too, you're going to come, I feel you running over in me — ohh, how hot and good it is — oh, don't stop yet, go on, fuck me hard, darling Unkie!” Her cries of pleasure gave way to languorous sighs, stifled groans, while my master, having given up his very last drop, lay panting in his niece's arms, a spasm rippling through his body from time to time to testify to the violence of his orgasm.
He was first to regain his senses, and, leaving her there to sleep, returned to his room. After a cold shower, he went to eat a copious breakfast, served by the smiling Marivol, who asked him roguishly: “Did Master sleep good, no ghosts?”
“None at all, Marivol! I slept so well that this morning I feel like a young man of twenty,” he chuckled.
“Yes, Master, yesterday too, I know you felt like a young man,” she burst into laughter as she disappeared into the kitchen.
After a late lunch, my master told us his news: “My dear friends, we've been put on earth not to be melancholy but to profit to the maximum from the pleasures life can offer. Now we must take advantage of youth while there's still time. I feel I've squandered enough of my life already, so I propose to you a little trip which I hope will meet with your approval. We'll go to the Belgian Congo, where the pygmies live, and there we'll have an unusual vacation, far from civilization and its boring conventions.”
And so the next day our little expedition set out in a superb Cadillac. In the Belgian Congo about 400 miles to the east of Stanleyville, on the banks of the Epulu River, we met our little Bamboutis. At first sight, they seemed ugly, with their big flat noses, their sharpened teeth and their skulls shaved. The adults measured only about four feet at the tallest, with the waist of a twelve-year-old child. But if these noisy little men astonished us, our equipment earned their curiosity in turn. They were usually terrified to see men wearing white uniforms — a government doctor and his assistants — come to vaccinate them, and fled to the forest with their families and hid there several weeks. But since we had no doctors to terrify them, we made friends at once, principally by giving them gifts of cigarettes and bits of stained glass which they prized. I was official interpreter, since I alone of our party spoke the Kiswaelo dialect.
We were presented to Moki, the chief of the Bamboutis. He was seated on a throne made of four branches tied together by strong vines, and was naked save for a bark loincloth which did not quite hide his penis, which I noticed to be rather large in proportion to his diminutive size.
His village consisted of straw huts, some fifteen of them, one of which we were invited to enter. I saw a girl who stared at me wonderingly. About twelve, she seemed to be well developed, save for her titties which hardly showed. Like all the pygmies, she was tattooed. On her shaved skull, an artist had painted two stripes from palm oil and vegetable matter. A band was drawn from the bridge of her nose down to her upper lip, then a circle round her mouth, while on her thighs bright-colored bands rose to her pubis, which was shielded by a loincloth made of leaves. I promised myself to enjoy a girl like this simply for the unique fancy of mating with a pygmy.
That night, we dined in front of the hut of Moki, who had organized a feast to welcome us. Women clad only in their loincloths arranged themselves in a semi-circle, while the mothers carried their babies in bark pouches strapped to them, and all began their tribal dances. As the others watched, both men and women smoked — for the pygmies adore tobacco. To the sound of their curious instruments, the dancers pantomimed all the positions of love and uttered shrill cries which the spectators chorused between puffs of their cigarettes. It was truly a weird and exciting spectacle.
Then a dozen young girls, between fourteen and eighteen, entered the dance. They had delightfully sculptured little bodies, tattooed on their faces, thighs and bottoms, and were stark naked, even to the thick, frizzy hair on their pussies. As they writhed and twisted in cadence, they displayed the undulations of their fleshly little bottoms. Despite their diminutive size, I could not help getting a hard on, and my master was equally stirred. I had a burning desire to seize one of them as they approached, but I was somewhat repelled by the musky odor of their bodies, and I asked myself: “If I should act so boldly, would the chief be enraged? True, we're well armed, but these little devils are expert archers and use poisoned arrows.”
As the dance ended, the girls came towards us a last time. I took advantage by passing one hand between the legs of the girl who faced me; the others all drew back, still in dancing step, save my pretty little prisoner. She did not utter a word, but glanced at the chief. I waited for the worst to happen, for although the girl looked to be fourteen, I believed her, at closer inspection, to be no more than twelve. My master stared at me as if I'd gone mad, but I had already thought of my reply should Moki show anger: “I did it as a jest.”
However, he did not speak, but rose, with a peremptory gesture that bade the other dancers leave. I still held on to my little Negress while Moki approached, and I will admit I was trembling. He uttered a few words that filled me with joy, then kissed me on the forehead. With his left hand he drew a circle around me. And what he had said to me was this: “You fuck girl, but I bugger your master.”
I quickly agreed, and we entered his royal hut, the Baron Prosper, Pamela, Bouzian, Marivol, myself and Moki, along with my little charmer. His hut was very spacious and there were many sleeping mats. I stretched out on one of them, keeping hold of my little prisoner, who was enchanted with my fair white skin — for of course I had stripped naked at once. Motionless beside me, she seemed to await my bidding. I took her hand and drew it to my prick, and to my surprise, she began to frig me at once. I stopped her, not wishing to spend too soon. So as to hide her face which I could not regard without laughing, I made her kneel, her head bowed to the ground, prostrated as if she were worshipping Allah, Then I parted her legs and introduced my prick between her furry cunny-lips. Despite her small stature, her cunny was superbly endowed, and as I foraged onward, my thick organ reached the depths of her hot oasis. It is true that in the pygmy tribes, girls reach puberty at nine or ten and are then initiated into the practise of the cult of Venus. Moreover, this girl proved that to me, for as soon as she felt me well planted inside of her, she wriggled to and fro, observing a rhythmic tempo that testified to her erotic prowess and which I followed as best I could. I held myself back, knowing that these Negresses take longer to arouse than white women. But the unusual thing was that while I was thus fucking the little girl, I was seized from behind, the cock of a man banged against my bottom, and my assailant forced me to lie on my side.
Comprehending his intentions, I permitted his organ's entry into my anus. When I had spent my first three months of military service in the A.E.F., my adjutant had initiated me into such practices. I tried to recognize my aggressive partner, and found it was the chief Moki, a great honor indeed. I said to him, “You are buggering the servant, not the master!”
But he did not reply as he continued his task. I will admit he didn't do too badly, and I derived considerable pleasure. He adapted himself to my own fucking tempo with the girl, so that when I buried my cock into the girl's pussy, he withdrew; and this in-and-out adjustment made me a human sandwich. Voluptuous ecstasy rose in me, and my partner's groans proved that her own climax was not far off. With a last thrust, I shot my bubbling sperm into her intimate depths as the girl quaked and writhed and moaned her rapture.
Moki also discharged, shooting into my entrails Bamboutis sperm. I could then watch the other partners. Baron Prosper, naked, was licking the clitoris of a pygmy girl, while Bouzian was buggering him. Under the Baron knelt a pygmy male, busy at sucking my master's cock. Seeking Martine with my gaze, I found her at last in a tangle of black bodies from which the gleaming whiteness of her skin sometimes emerged. Marivol and two little black girls were frigging and licking Martine, who returned the courtesy. So everyone was well occupied; I am sure this royal hut had never before witnessed such orgiastic cries and amorous sighs.
During the few days we spent with this tribe, we repeated our seances with different partners each time, and when at last we departed to continue our amorous journeying, these little beings had eloquently demonstrated that despite their strange ways and diminutive size, they practiced love much as did all others.
After lunch one day of rest, when we had believed my master would return to Fort-Lamy, he suggested we visit the Koukouanas, who lived in the Transvaal. We would cross the Zambesi River. All of us agreed, and so the Cadillac rolled onward. After long days of traveling, we finally crossed the mighty river, disappointed because in all that time there had been no chance to indulge in fucking — save for Pamela, who had herself buggered by a complaisant native. And at last after many detours, we came within sight of Loo, the important Koukouanas village thirty miles from Pietermaritzburg, capital of Zululand. The village rose in the middle of a beautiful, fertile plain. We saw many farms, and the entire village was protected by a solid palisade of sharpened sticks.
We arrived in the midst of a tribal ceremony, seeing the Koukouanas warriors armed with javelins, brandishing leather shields, their heads and necks adorned with white ostrich plumes. They moved their heads from left to right, in cadence, suddenly stopping, then resuming. It was quite spellbinding, for they were magnificent, sturdy men. Finally, they turned to face one another, and crashed their shields together in symbol of war. The king of the village was a kind of black Hercules about thirty-five years old, presiding over the ceremony from his throne.
Despite their warlike appearance, these natives were very hospitable, and followed polygamy, except for the king who could have only a single official spouse, his queen. She was always made to remain in the royal hut at such ceremonies. He greeted us and bade us sit behind him. Then the dances changed, and musical instruments and floral garlands took the place of weapons and drums. Several women who were to be married came into the middle of the assemblage, and a tumult of voices arose. Everyone was distracted by it, so I stealthily crawled towards the royal hut, intending to solace the lonely queen. I lifted the fold of the tent and entered. Near a curiously carved couch, a young woman was seated on a kind of tabouret; it was the queen, who, in keeping with the custom of the tribe, emerges only at prescribed hours and days.
Today, evidently, she had to stay inside. My face and my European clothes made her gasp with surprise. I approached and bowed low. All the queen wore was a kind of white tunic embroidered with feathers. She smiled at me, and I took out a little mirror and handed it to her. Overjoyed at this present, she left her seat and stood in front of me to rub noses, the tribal way of greeting.
Suddenly, she unfastened her tunic and stood naked. She was a beautiful young woman, firm fleshed and handsomely curved. Her breasts sagged just a little, however. In this country, a woman of twenty-five is already considered old. As was the custom, her abdomen was shaved and there were tattoos around her navel. I approached her and my hands squeezed her gleaming round hard bottomcheeks. She showed all her white teeth in a smile, and in an incomprehensible jargon, asked: “Push-push? Cock?”
I understood and nodded, “Yes, yes, good, good.” Taking off my shorts, I exhibited my prong, already at attention before Her Majesty. Evidently, in comparison with the mighty cocks of the Koukouanas, mine was that of a child; yet it was white, and that made it desirable for her. Squatting between my legs, she seized my cocktip in her thick lips and greedily sucked me. Her king must have loved this ritual, for she practiced it with a mastery unexpected here in this dark region of Africa. Her tongue rubbed over the urethra and the meatus with exquisite languor, or again, to diversify my sensations, she swallowed almost all my cock till I felt it virtually in her windpipe. But I had come there with the intention of fucking the Queen, and so I pushed her away and stretched her out on a nearby lion-skin rug. She smiled, opened her thighs, and her cunny appeared, rosy-lipped in contrast to the ebony of her black gleaming skin.
I stretched out over her and thrust in my cock. I found her juicy, moist sheath a bit too wide for full enjoyment. Yet she sensed this and so, to augment our communal pleasure, she wound her muscled legs over my bottom, tightening her thighs against my flanks, and then contracted her matrix deliciously. I buried my prick to the hilt inside her, drawing out slowly; she squeezed me superbly, letting my cock go with what seemed reluctance. I could not long hold out against such talent, and, stiffening, I violently shot my offering into the Queen's avid womb. Deliciously, as she felt my jet, she shook and arched and clawed at me to absorb all of my spasm.
After having thus satisfied my longings, I left her there on the rug and putting my clothes in order, went quietly back to my place; no one had noticed my absence.
I laughed to myself when I looked at the King, still presiding in his lordly manner over the ceremony, and I thought: “You've been cuckolded, my old King, right under your royal nose!”
I turned my attention to the wild dances, admiring the leaps and gambols of the warriors and the maidens, when suddenly I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. When I turned, I espied a tall devil who looked like a baboon; he made a discreet sign to me to follow him.
When we had gone a few yards away from the King and my master and the others, he said to me in pidgin English: “You love, have fuck-fuck with Queen?”
I turned pale and shuddered; had someone witnessed my cuckolding?
He took my arm and said dryly, “You come with me.”
Without releasing my arm, he dragged me towards the royal hut. I felt my legs totter under me in my terror. He pushed me inside, and I saw the Queen in tears. Seeing me, she stretched out her arm and, pointing her forefinger, said, with a smile and a look still blurred by tears, “Again once more? You like?”
You can imagine my joyous relief, for I had thought my last hour had come. But obviously this warrior was her secret friend, for he remained watching. That, of course, chilled my ardors, so I contented myself with frigging her. Then, on a sign from the Queen who was swooning with pleasure, the tall warrior took off my shorts and, drawing out his cock, buggered me. The head of his enormous organ could scarcely enter my anus, but with a single thrust he dug himself into me. I uttered such a plaintive cry that the Queen crushed her lips to mine to console me. With her sharp nails, she caressed my balls, weighing them to test their hardness, then fondled my shaft, then caressed the tiny hole. This ritual was done with exquisite artistry which would have bested even that of a girl from Pigalle.
But that wretched friend of hers gripped me now and shot his furious essence deep into my bowels. Fortunately, the Queen's frigging appeased my suffering. And at last he withdrew, bowed towards the Queen and murmured something I could not understand, then went out backwards, bowing low to his beautiful ruler.
Doubtless excited by what he had done to me, the Queen, putting a hand on my cock, drew me towards a sleeping mat and, kneeling down, bowed her head to the floor. Her upreared bottom yawned to disclose a distended bottomhole which evidently was familiar with Sodom's joys. Moreover, her hand, without the slightest hesitation, directed my spectre towards those portals, in which with a single thrust I buried myself to the hilt. She had evidently been already well initiated by her king — or perhaps her friend — but in any case I found the pathway well prepared for my ploughing. While I frigged her and played with her clitoris, I conscientiously buggered her so I might leave with her a good impression of the whites, who, though their cocks might be smaller than those of her people, made up for their lack in better developed amorous technique. I held back my spasm till the Queen began to utter raucous sounds, her body writhed and jerked as from galvanizing currents of electricity. I held her solidly merged against me, and, hastening my tempo, I went off in her bowels, thus leaving my servant's sperm in her noble chalice.
Her Majesty also spent, and a guttural onomatopoeia ceaselessly emerged from her fleshy panting lips. My fingers inside her quim felt the royal essence. At last she was appeased and, stretching out voluptuously on the mat, shivering with the waves of pleasure rippling through her, closed her eyes to revel over the sensations I had procured. I dressed, then took leave of her with a rather exaggerated bow, and for the second time I returned to the royal stand where cries and music rose in a cacophony of sheer sound.