An African Seduction – 1
by Author on Africa ( – An African Seduction

An African Seduction

In a moment of weakness a white married woman is taken
advantage of by a charismatic influential African. (MF,
wife, intr)

Author Notes: The following story is entirely fictional, despite its close resemblance to certain events that took place when the author took his family
to Zimbabwe between 1991 and 1993. It is a reflection on the experiences of many white expatriates and their families working in Africa and the Middle East.

Names have of course been changed, even if they were fictional (J).

This story was first published in but
has been relocated here to avoid that site’s editorial restrictions. As such it has been edited and revised.
Readers who enjoyed it there might enjoy the corrections here.

There are going to be more stories published here, and they are nearly all inter-related to what happened and the four powerful and influential Africans who successfully mixed money and power to gain the kind of
sex they wanted.

In Harare, in 1991, due to the economic circumstances, there were nearly 4 million African men working the
factories there, compared to about 500,000 African women. With 8 men black men to every African woman
there was a huge pent up sexual need. Since the Africans quite sensibly left their own daughters on
their family farms, the 10,000 or so white families in
the city sometimes felt under sexual siege.

The Africans best equipped to win those sexual sieges were the new African Elite. African multi-millionaires
who could not possibly spend all they were making. Powerful, and politically connected they were, and are
untouchable. Men who would take bribes in their millions, but would respond far more positively if the
bribe included one of those rarities in Zimbabwe a pretty white woman, or the innocence of a white teenage

Where would they find such? Well they employed expats to run their businesses. Expats who did not always realise they had won the contract because their wife was a beauty, or that his daughters were considered prime material for bribing Africans clients!)
(This story was 1st published on and has been revised and edited)

Part 1

Igwe held the tearful woman close in his arms. To be frank he cared little for her tears, or her fears and
trauma’s that had led to them. He did, however, appreciate the full warm curves of her body as he held
her close.

With one hand around her waist he held her close, while his other gently stroked her short dark hair, comforting her. At six foot six inches he towered over
the latest white woman to join his philosophy circle.

His decision to form a philosophy circle had been a
stroke of genius in his campaign to seduce the relatively few attractive white women in Zimbabwe.
Those disaffected with their life and looking for relief from the boredom of endless poolside sunbathing had been happy to join his circle. Their husbands were happy to be left to drink beer in one of the many exclusive hotel bars rather than join their wives
discussing philosophy!

Many had subsequently learned the folly of their negligence when their loving ‘faithful’ white wives gave birth to a bouncy, screeching, black baby.

Angel sobbed in his strong arms, only to glad to find a
man who understood her. Igwe was careful that his burgeoning erection did not disillusion her.

His hand rose slowly to gently stroke her back. Her natural reaction was to move closer to him and her full
firm breasts pushed against him.

At 34 years old, and with two children, Angel was lucky
to have full firm mounds that did not sag. Igwe appreciated his luck in having those mounds pressed
firmly to him. He had no doubts how this evening was
going to end.

His time in America studying psychology had served him well. Here in Africa he had no qualms about using the
knowledge gained to twist and manipulate the minds of white couples. Enhancing their concerns, preying on
their fears, offering them security, pampering them, while at the same time scaring them at the same time.
Preparing them to accept the need to please him. These white couples were unnaturally afraid of the teeming black masses of Africa. They were often only too happy to accept a luxurious lifestyle, and often willing to take part in sexual adventures, if that is what it took
to be part of the in-crowd.

Personally he preferred those not willing to be seduced. It was much more fun bedding them!

“My husband just doesn’t understand me!” Angel sobbed.

Igwe grinned as he stroked her hair and looked down at the pretty tear stained face buried on his chest.

Stupid woman!

Why should her husband try and understand her? He was a man! It was a woman’s role to serve and please her husband. African women knew their place, but these confused western women had lost touch with their role
pleasing men.

‘If only I could talk to him like I can talk to you!” Angel sought to gather her senses, suddenly aware that her nipples had unaccountable become erect as she pressed against this charming, educated, and sophisticated black man.

Igwe’s nostrils flared as he took in the sweet freshness of the white woman in his arms. Washed, scented, and clean. So typical of these well brought up English women that married skilled and educated professionals. Yet so lacking in the basic understanding or relationships. She was well presented
in her stylish western style dress. He would love breaking her in. Teaching this woman her true role in
life. He dismissed her husband’s acceptance and tolerance of her strange concepts of ‘modern womanhood.’ He regarded it as evidence of her husband’s
weak will, and the failure of his masculinity.

“I understand,” he murmured into her soft dark hair.
His hand rose from her back to gently stroke the softness of her slim white neck. Angel was relieved not to be held quite so tight, though his strong masculine
presence was comforting. His fingers on her neck were soothing, calming, mesmerising as they drew soft circles on her neck. If only her husband would stroke
her like this!

The sudden intrusive thought of her husband disturbed her. She was acutely aware of the stiffness of her nipples as they strained against the material of her soft lacy brassiere. She had found herself dressing
differently since joining Igwe’s circle. There were no men in this circle, and all the other women took such extra-ordinary care in their appearance. Angel had found herself wearing lingerie she rarely wore for her
husband any more.

She did not want to seem rude to Igwe, and his strong hands, while gently stroking, belied the power of this man. They had a power over her that she sought to suppress, even as tingles shivered the soft skin of her neck.

He urged her to sit on his sofa and offered her a Turkish Apple tea. She gratefully accepted and sat demurely while he prepared the drink. She did not notice as he lightly sprinkled crushed mbanje into the
drink. He was confident she would not consider the
presence of the crushed herb unusual.

She had been married to her doting husband Mark for 18 years. She was a faithful wife, and loving mother to their two teenage daughters. A devout catholic, and regular churchgoer, her current unexpected and unwanted arousal disturbed her. The tea would be calming, help her regain her distance, and reserve.

“He won’t let me drive the car since the accidents,”
Angel complained.

Igwe stifled a laugh as he prepared the drink. Glad she could not see his face. Of course, her husband had banned her from driving! It was the one sensible thing
Mark had done.

“Hmm, well you have had three crashes in the last month.”

He turned back to a fidgeting Angel, and noted her nibbling her lip. He would bruise those soft lips with
passion tonight. Angel ignored his words.

“He has undermined my status in the eyes of my friends,” Angel went on.

In doing so he had probably saved your life Igwe thought, but he let it pass.

‘Disgraceful, he should take more care of your position!” He responded instead, knowing what she
wanted to hear.

Angel looked up at him grateful for his support, as he sat close beside her on the sofa. She edged closer. She found tears edging to the surface again, and cursed her edginess and nervousness in front of this sophisticated African. He was so different to most of the poor
Africans teeming through the streets.

Without warning tears coursed down her cheeks, Igwe leaned over and pulled her close. He understood that she was still recovering from a minor breakdown. That she was weak and vulnerable. Her husband should have been here, but he wasn’t and Igwe intended to take full

His black hand rose and lightly stroked Angel’s soft white arms. He cradled her into his shoulder. His hand rose to cup the soft curve of her cheek. His finger lightly stroked aside the salty tears. Angel snuggled closer, unresisting as his hand lifted her face.

He was not a handsome man, though he was unmistakably a
powerful, dominant male. At 45 years old he was eleven years older than her, but the years seemed meaningless.
His dark, craggy looks, his Saville Row suites, and casual confidence all combined to make her feel secure
in his presence.

In many ways he reminded her of her burly strong willed father. He had also been a businessmen with powerful connections.

“Oh,” she gasped.

His lips had descended and were kissing away her tears.
She smiled at this touch. His hand on her cheek held her head firmly in place, as lips lightly caressed her eyes. She closed her own, and lay still as his lips
closed over her eyes.

Her heart leapt. This should not be happening. Her eyes flitted open, as he kissed her forehead, then dropped to her nose, and she laughed. He grinned at her.

Then his lips dipped and met hers.

Her heart rate soared as this masterful man softly kissed her lips. She sought to pull away, but there was
no heart in her effort, and his hand effortlessly held her head in place, as the kiss became more demanding.

Angel melted into the kiss, her sweet lips responding.
It had been 18 years since she had kissed another man than Mark, but now her lips were seeking out his hungrily.

Igwe savoured the soft lips of the English woman. He kissed, now lightly, now passionately; alternating in his pattern, savouring the lips, he held her close.
Then his tongue slipped out and licked along the line of those delightfully parted lips.

“Oh…please,” Angel sought to push him away and recover her senses. It was like pushing against solid rock. For a 45-year-old businessman he seemed remarkably strong. She had since the family’s arrival in Zimbabwe become to understand the remarkable strength of African men. Most went from years doing hard farm work, to the relentless and furious energy of the burgeoning factories.

More than once that quick grope in a hotel bar, or between the tight close aisles of a shop, had developed into something more. With one hand holding her firm and still, while a second explored, or a friend’s hand explored. At first she had been shocked and horrified. She had screamed. But this was Harare, not a quite English bookstore. She had quickly learned that her screams simply attracted more African men.

Like hyena’s scenting a kill they would swarm around hoping for an opportunity to sample her charms. Not that the Africans ever seemed threatening, even when she struggled and sought to push them away. Always they would have that happy grin as their hands rose under her skirt, or fondled a breast, or bottom! The bare faced cheek and sexual aggression of these men was something she had never had to cope with in England!

Once, early after they arrived, she had taken her daughters shopping. When an African tried to push her into the changing booth she had screamed her help. Male African heads had popped around corners, and over and through shelves to see the fun. Men had rushed to the vicinity, but instead of coming to her aid, 14 year old Amanda and seventeen year old Rebecca had been seized, fondled, and stroked. Her two bemused, confused daughters held while grinning Africans touched and fondled them. She was convinced that only the unusual interference of the shop’s security guard had saved them all from a mass gang rape.

Grateful as she was she had refused his demand that she give him her address. “For the report,” he had said. Even while shaken and her emotions ruffled she had retained the sense not to give this African man her address. He may be her saviour this time, but knowing the address of a pretty white woman, and her two pretty teenage daughters, may have been too much temptation.
Even if he only sold the information to more bold criminally minded Africans.

She was not so naive not to realise that there was a real ‘market’ in Africa for attractive white women, and
an even bigger market for pretty white teenagers.

Now as she sought to push Igwe away, she was reminded just how strong he was. While one part of her told her
to be sensible and remember her husband. Another stronger, suppressed emotion fluttered to the surface.
This man was so strong it was sending wicked signals to
her loins. She fought to control that irrational reaction. She was a career woman, an intelligent
educated woman. She was happy.

Igwe tilted her chin, his mouth descended. With a fierce passion his tongue darted into her mouth.

Her senses departed and she kissed him back.

Her lithe and nimble tongue seemed to have a life of
its own as it met Igwe’s tongue, darting and challenging. Even as she berated herself she breathed in his masculine presence. His dark demanding presence as his hands wandered unrestricted. This was forbidden… her eyes closed and she welcomed his demanding passionate kiss.

It seemed so long since her husband had kissed her like this. The thought of her husband jerked her back to reality. Her eyes flashed open and looked up at Igwe as he kissed her. His eyes were locked on hers. His eyes were dark, mesmerising, and powerful. She was losing herself in those eyes, when she again sought to pull herself together.

Then one of his strong black hands closed on her breast.

“Oh…no, my husband,” her hand rose and grasped the hand at her breast. It was like trying to move a steel
girder, but this bit of steel, was warm. It cupped her breast, and caressed and fondled. No amount of feeble pushing on her part was going to free her breast. Then his hand at her neck grasped her short page boy style dark hair, and jerked sharply down.

“Arghh…oh,” she gasped as her pretty white face was pulled sharply up and presented to Igwe. She was not used to pain, and the shock of it ran through her body. Then his big heavy body seemed to bear down on her and
her lips seemed to open automatically to receive his kiss.

She was shocked and felt betrayed as her body reacted in ways it shouldn’t. She didn’t want to feel like

She didn’t, she really didn’t…

Then his tongue met hers and her mind seemed to swirl
and fly.


Igwe grinned to himself as he played this naive and innocent white wife. His hand had risen and clasped her full and firm breast. He savoured its fullness. He loved white women. They looked after themselves so well. An African woman of 34, unless she had married early to a rich and powerful man, would have spent 31 of those years in the fields under a not sun. She would probably have nursed several children, and was unlikely to have ever had a proper diet.

These white women took such care over themselves. Over their figure, and diet, and appearance. As his hand seemed to weigh the full breast in his hand he estimated that Angel possessed breasts that did not snag, and he delighted in it.

He cupped it, squeezed it, stroked it, and fondled it.
A white woman’s breast. The breast of a woman married to a white man. He remembered the 15 years guerrilla warfare in the bush. The whites claimed to have won that guerrilla war, but as he held and enjoyed the fullness of that white breast, He knew no white policeman was going to burst through his door. No red faced angry white soldier was going to shoot him down like a dog for touching a white woman.

His fingers found a stiffened nipple through the cloth of her dress, and bra. A bra he noted that seemed lacy and frilly. Had she dressed for him? He nipped that thickened pert nib sharply.

The woman beneath him squealed into his kiss, but he did not release her mouth, or his grip on her nipple.

Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain.

He released his grip, and she sighed into his demanding passionate kiss.

Even as she relaxed he ran the palm of his hand over her nipple, and felt her body tremble. He estimated that excited little tingles would be surging from her abused bud, as he fondled her that full mound and then lightly stroked his thumb over the over-excited nipple, enjoying her squirm in his arms.

So few of these well brought up, middle class English women seemed to fully understand the nature of pain, and its relationship to pleasure. He would delight in teaching Angel. Oh yes, he would teach her all about the pleasure of pain, and pleasing his cock.

He looked over at the door to his villa.

No, there was no sign of an outraged husband. He glanced across at the shotgun on the wall. He laughed quietly. If her husband did turn up and burst through the door he, Igwe, was the one with the right to shoot the intruder dead.

Not that such an eventuality was likely, though a small part of him wished to be so. Four large German Shepherd guard dogs prowled the gardens of his ten acre villa in the exclusive Harare suburb of Borrowdale. Big bored dogs that would have delighted in the sport of finding an intruder. Chuku Olanes, his devoted bodyguard would be alert. Keeping an eye on the CCTV cameras. Chuku owed Igwe his life. After a moment in the war when Chuku had been seized by a crocodile while creeping across a golf course near Victoria Falls.

Quick work with a machete had denied the crocodile a live meal. Chuku had rarely left his side since, and had soon learned there were opportunities for Chuku. Igwe after all usually found a new and interesting white woman to seduce every few months and was generous
with his discards.

Igwe turned back to the lovely panting Angel, as she lay half beneath him. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. Those delightful now bruised lips quivering.
Her chest rose and fell, her breathing deep and irregular.

She was a delightful English Rose in her prime. No, he grinned to himself, the whites had not won the war after all, as his dark hand began flicking the buttons that held the bodice of her dress together.

“Noooo! Please… we have gone too far!”

“I love my husband he loves me!”

Her hands reached for his. He ignored them. Her efforts were light and ineffective. Lacking the strength to keep his eager hands from those firm white orbs increasingly coming into view.

His hand pushed inside the dress. He delighted in the sight of her lacy brassiere. A fashionable stylish bra
that did little to hide the rounded, full mounds within. His hand swept the material aside and he took the warm firm white flesh into his hand.

Angel gasped, and thrust her breast into his hand. It was as though she had no control of her own body. Hot sensations radiated from that strong hand. This was not some boy struggling for a quick grope. This was a strong masterful man taking what he wanted, and she struggled against the sudden urge to spread her legs.

Igwe stared with delight at the slightly darkened nipple that still held a touch of pinkness, such a contrast to an African woman. He delighted in the sight, and the feel of that surprisingly firm orb, which as he had guessed did not sag. His head dropped,
and Angel jerked beneath him as his greedy lips took that nipple into his mouth, then widened further to
gorge on round white woman flesh.

Angel jerked as his hot mouth enclosed her nipple. His lips suckled, and then her drew her nipple deeper into his mouth and she felt his teeth nibbling on the sensitive tip. Her toes stretched as pleasurable sensations overwhelmed her breasts, radiating across her chest and sending tingling sensations down to her curling toes.


Igwe grinned and worked his teeth hard. He could feel her shiver and shake in response to his attention to her aroused bud. His tongue curled around the erect nipple and he was delighted when her back arched, and she inadvertently pushed her breast into his mouth.

Her hands were trying to push him away and he allowed her to push his shoulders back. He released the nipple. He looked down at her. Her eyes were bright. Her untended left breast was in stark contrast to the overexcited right breast.

“Please, enough, I should be going,” Angela pleaded.
Her hands on his shoulders seemed to be holding him at bay, but she made no attempt to cover over her breasts.
He grinned and lowered his head to her left breast.

“No!” Her slim white hands strained to keep him away.
Angel struggled to comprehend how easily he ignored her straining hands his mouth descended to her left nipple and hot wet sensations wracked her nipple.

God! He was so strong! She gasped as his teeth chewed on her nipple, then his tongue soothed the agitated nub. Her back arched and she consciously sought to pull her breast free. Her efforts were distracted by the feel of one of his hands sliding under her dress and
stroking upwards over her shapely white thigh.

She wanted to pull away, but she was trapped on the sofa. His heavy body, holding her down while his teeth, lips and tongue doing indescribably things to her excited aroused nipples, and now his hand was under her dress.

She felt it each the top her stocking and find the soft bare skin of upper thigh. His hand was hot, and softly circling. A black hand under her dress, stroking gently the soft silky white skin that only her husband had
ever touched.

Thoughts of her husband surfaced and she renewed her efforts to push him away, then stopped. Would her husband want her to stop him? It was Mark who had joked about how easy it would be for her to take a black lover here.

No one would ever know, not even her husband!

Igwe’s hand reached higher and she ‘allowed’ him to push her legs apart. She tensed as his hand found and covered her silk clad vulva, and she jerked as they
lightly stroked.

Oh God! I should not be letting him do this, but then she wondered if she was indeed allowing him to do this.
He was bigger and stronger than she was. Far stronger than her husband! His hands, lips, teeth were making free with her body, despite her attempts to push him away. She could not stop him, even if she wanted to.
A little nervous flash of thought went through her. Never in her life had she ever not been in control. Here on this sofa, she knew she was not in control. Sensations were wracking through her body. Pleasurable
sensations. She did not want to betray her husband. A finger pushed aside the silken gusset of her panties and slipped into her wet feminine centre.

She flushed in embarrassment as she realised just how wet she had become. That Igwe should be able to
discover the level of her excitement was deeply embarrassing. Her hands dropped to exploring hand seeking to push it away. Igwe caught one of her hands
by the wrist and pulled it to one side.

He guided her hand between his own legs, and her fingers brushed the hot, hard length of his exposed manhood. Her hand jerked away, she was startled by the heat and hardness of his member. She had been unaware
of him releasing his cock from his trousers. Igwe however, retained his grip on in her hand brought it back to his aroused and excited black cock. At the second contact as his hand seemed to push her slim white hand along its length. Angel found her hand had
grasped its thickness.

She marvelled at its girth. The thick pulsing veins seemed to throb in her soft hand. She struggled to comprehend its thickness and her hands squeezed it. She realised with a sense of disbelief and a certain dread that her fingers could not meet when they closed around
it. It was too thick to fit inside her. Not that she was going to allow him to try.

Igwe’s hand was back on her wrist and he guided her hand up and down its hard length. Her dread at its thickness was increased and heightened as she realised it was also long, just how long she had yet to discover.

Angel now needed no encouragement to explore its length. Her husband had joked that black men had big cocks, and she knew as did he that it was not true, but Igwe’s manhood seemed to defy natural justice. It was both long and thick as her hand slid down its underside seeking it base she was shocked to feel the thick circumcised head push against her upper arm. Shocked
she released it. It couldn’t be that long! She sought to look down at it but the pressure of his heavy body in hers prevented her from doing so.

At that point Igwe pushed a thick finger into her body. The effect on Angela galvanised her into attempted action. There was only one consequence of the continuation of her inaction, and it must not be happen!

She was married. She loved Mark, her husband. She must
not allow this to proceed further!

“Let me up!” She demanded. Igwe ignored her. His lips busy nibbling on the soft white skin of her slender neck. His finger pushed deeper. Her writhing legs closed on his hand seeking to squeeze his hand out from
between her legs.

“This is too much, we have gone too far! I’m married.”

Igwe grinned at the reminder that the delightful curvy body seeking to wriggle from beneath him belonged to another. A white man at that! He circled his finger in the hot, wet, tightness of her married pussy and thrust
his finger in a further inch.

As his finger slid deeper Angel found her hand gripping his cock tightly in response. Her fingers could hardly connect around it. She knew black men were said to possess larger members, but what she held in her hand was beyond anything her imagination had ever considered. The cock throbbed in her hand. She could feel gnarled veins throb and pulse with blood and eager sperm.

Igwe with drew his finger and shifted in position. His weight lifted from her and she was able to look down at his cock. Her eyes widened as they confirmed the size of cock her hands had explored.

He was huge!

“My God!”

Igwe grinned. He delighted in the shocked reactions of the expatriate wives when they discovered the size of his cock. He had rarely found one complacent and
anticipating such a cock. The surprise on the white wives, was a pleasure, but the additional mix of fear
that engulfed them enhanced his own pleasure.

If the surprise of white wives was delight to observe,
the reaction of the white teenage girls who travelled to Africa with their parents was even more so. Breaking
in a 13 or 14 year old white virgin was his favourite pastime, and the look on their eyes when they saw the
size of his cock was always a memory to treasure.

Angel was no virgin, though he suspected his first
penetration was going to take some effort.

Angel was staring at his cock with fear and fascination. As though she had found herself confronted
by a striking cobra and was afraid to move. Igwe enjoyed the conflicting her emotions.

“Is this what your husband dreams of?”

Angel looked up at him perplexed.

“Doesn’t your husband have fantasies of his sweet wife being ravished by a big cocked African?”

Angel flushed. The pink glow suffused her cheeks and descended to her breasts. How did he know? It was not
just her husband who had such fantasies, though she would never admit that to anyone, especially her

Igwe’s cock was not natural! It was too thick!

It was easily as thick as her wrist. As Igwe shifted in position and both his hands went up under her skirt. As
his body shifted more of his cock slid out of his trousers, and she goggled as its length became

It was far too long to go inside her! It would rupture
her womb!

“It’s too big…” her words came out in gasps. Her breathing had become heavy. There was a tension in her
throat, and a heat in her loins. Igwe grinned when, as he tugged at her panties, her hips rose slightly
allowing him to ease her panties down.

She was his…

“Oh God! Please…My husband…”

Igwe grinned and his mouth dropped to close her pleas with another kiss. Angela darted her head to one side
to avoid the kiss. Her movement presented a small delicate white ear. He grinned and instead of closing on her mouth, his lips caught the soft lobe of her ear
and he nibbled it. Angel seemed to jerk beneath him as her body was galvanised by the soft touch of his lips on her ear. His tongue licked the lobe as his hands worked under her dress, enjoying the feel of the shapely full thighs of a well-fed white woman.

He dipped his tongue inside her ear curling it, pushing
deeper, twirling his tongue, in the soft sensitive interior. He could feel her breasts surge and push against him in response to the sensations she could not
avoid as his tongue excited her. His hands pushed her shapely white thighs apart, her dress rising up around
her waist.

He positioned himself between her legs.

Angel was oblivious to her danger. The teasing of his tongue was merciless, and exciting. He really knew how to excite her! It was wicked! It was forbidden. She jerked her ear free of his tongue, turned to face him to tell him to stop. She looked up into his eyes. Eyes that were full of passion and desire.

Desire for her…

Her heart surged. She was confused, as her heart raced
and her senses seemed to pulse. She humped her hips and
flushed with shame at her action.

She cursed her weakness, but when his mouth dropped to hers she did not resist. Her mouth opened in response to the passionate demand of his kiss. When his tongue slid between her lips, her own tongue darted to meet his and locked with his in a passionate wrestling match.

Then his cock nudged the portal of her feminine centre, and her eyes flared wide. She stared up into the dark powerful passion filled eyes of the African above her.

Igwe met her gaze. He loved these moments. The shocked surprise in a white woman’s eyes as she realised he was about to enter her. He thrust his hips and broke free
of her eagerly kissing lips.

“Oooooooohhh! … No! … You mustn’t!”

He thrust again and he passed through the portals to
her womanhood.

He paused. It was always so surprising how tight these white women were, even those married with children. Her pussy clasped his cock tight. Her sheath was like that
of a virgin protecting its hymen. He savoured the hot tight grip on his cock, leaned forward and thrust

Another inch of his thick manhood slid into her, and her legs flew wide in reaction. He grasped the hot warm
curves of her hips and lifted, as he thrust. His cock was now three inches into her, and past the restricting
grasping portal. He thrust again, sliding a further few inches into her.

“Ooooooh…no… I’m bursting!”

He roared a triumphal laugh and thrust again. Her hips starting jerking spasmodically beneath him, her legs grasped him then released him. She struggled to push him way. She tried wriggling free from him.

Igwe held himself in position, while she wriggled and struggled. He enjoyed the feel of his cock as is it slithered deeper in her well-lubricated sheath.

Angel stropped struggling realising belatedly that her efforts had only resulted in his cock going deeper inside her. He was too well ensconced inside her how.
She was not going to gain her freedom by her own efforts. She was going to have to let him have his way
with her.

A warm tingling overcame her at the thought she was helpless to prevent this dominant African taking his
pleasure between her legs.

She was going to get fucked.

Exciting sensations swept from her loins as she became accustomed to his thickness. Her abused pussy seemed to be clinging to his cock, but already it was relaxing and adapting to its size. She realised that he had stopped thrusting into her. She looked up at his face
and realised he was savouring the pleasure of being inside her. Without conscious thought her pussy squeezed on his cock sending further excitement shooting through her. To her shame and pleasure the
muscles in her sheath seemed to caress his cock. She tried to bring her body back under control.

Then when she had got herself back under control she looked back up at him. He was gazing down at her. She
flushed under his gaze.

“Is that it all? Is it all really inside me?”

Igwe grinned.


Then he ran his hands up from his grip on her curvy derriere, sliding them along the soft skin so that he
could secure a firm grip on her shoulders.

“No, that is not all,” he laughed and thrust again.

He enjoyed the startled look on her face as he thrust
and thrust again. This time firmly holding her shoulders to keep her in position as he pushed deeper.
He relished the glove like grip on his cock as it seemed to but against her uterus and push through
further deeper unused barriers.

“Ooooooh…oh God…oooooh.”

Igwe freed one of his hands and reached up to grasp her short dark hair in his grip. He jerked her head back.
Pain shot through her, but seemed to send further powerful surges down her loins. She grasped his cock with her sheath instinctively. She felt the slap of his balls against her bottom. It was in she realised. If his balls were slapping against her bottom he must be all the way in! She stirred beneath him.

He looked down at her pretty face. He enjoyed the sight of her pale slender neck. He noted the dilated eyes, her gasping breath. Her unfocussed eyes, he gave her time to recover. When her green eyes finally focussed on him again he grinned down at her. She smiled faintly
back at him.

“Now,” he said, “I am going to fuck you!”

Her eyes seemed to widen. Then he felt her legs wrap around him.

He grinned, she smiled nervously back at him.

Then he started to fuck.

She wailed like a hyena in heat as he withdrew then thrust.

His hips rose and fell beneath her splayed thighs.

He savoured the silky softness as the inner thighs of another man’s wife clasped him to her.

A white man’s wife lost in passion beneath him.

Was there any greater pleasure?

Yes, of course, there was, the pleasure of his seed spurting up inside her clinging tightness.

He gripped her shoulders and took his pleasure, thrusting and driving his manhood deep inside. Enjoying
the exquisite pleasure of her tight womanhood.

Her excited wail betrayed her orgasm beneath him as she
shook and shivered beneath him. He paused briefly. Then resumed his efforts.

“Please stop…I have come already… enough…”

He laughed and renewed his urgent thrusting.

“Oh please…too much… didn’t you hear I’ve come

He ignored her and thrust away. She wriggled and squirmed seeking to push him away. It was too intense, too powerful, the feelings too strong. Then too her shock a second orgasm overtook her, she jerked and throbbed in spasms beneath him. Shocked, disbelieving, this could not be happening she had never had two orgasms before!

She collapsed in his arms defeated. There was no point resisting. Igwe above her continued his thrusting and surging between her legs still eagerly clasped around him.

A rolling wave of orgasms seemed to overcome her as she abandoned the struggle and let him use her as he wished. This was a strong man who took what he wanted and with a thrill of excitement she realised she was glad he wanted her…

Hot blossoming heat surged in her loins and she suddenly realised he had come inside her. The thought
seemed to trigger another even more heated orgasm. It was as though her body was eagerly surging to receive his seed!

A horn sounded from outside the villa!

A long blast of sound that broke the moment.

Igwe broke free from. His cock long and slick with her juices slithered out of her and she looked in disbelief at its length and thickness.

“That will be your husband. Come to take you home.”

Angel looked up at him in shock and alarm as the real world returned.

The horn sounded again, and Angel struggled to her feet.

Her husband was waiting! She struggled to refasten her dress over her breasts. She pushed her dress back down from her waist. She saw her panties lying discarded on floor and snatched them up.

She turned to Igwe.


“Go,” he interrupted her. “Don’t keep your husband waiting.”

She turned fled, pressing her panties into her handbag.

She burst through the door of his villa out into the African night.

The sudden heat of the night passing over her, she saw her husband watching for her. A look of concern left
his face as she appeared.

She scurried over to her husband’s car as she tried to collect her shattered emotions. Her world had just fallen apart on a black man’s cock.

“Hi honey. You OK?”

She glanced at Mark as climbed into the passenger seat then looked away as guilt overcame her. This man loved
her and she had betrayed that love.
“Hmm…I’m fine.”

“You look flustered?”

“I was…I was in the bathroom.” Her breath caught in her throat as she said it. She had just lied to her husband!

He leaned across and kissed her lightly on the lips. She had a sudden thought that he would smell Igwe on her. That he would smells the sexual excretions seeping
from her.

“No matter. Nice to see you again. Bill made a rightprat of himself tonight. We had to virtually carry him
out to his car. You would think with that beautiful wife of his he would be rushing home after work instead
of getting plastered every night.”

Angel gathered her thoughts as Mark prattled on. She
calmed down then fiercely clamped her pussy tight as
she felt surge of semen leak from her unclad loins!

Continued in part 2…

An African Seduction – Sex story
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2020-03-06 12:45:00 – Adult blog online

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