I have only to regret it. I cannot complain, nor blame anyone. I was warned quite a lot, explicitly and severely. The region to which I intended to go in the interior of the Dark Continent was totally inhospitable, dominated by violence and still tribal customs. Not suitable for a blonde man with a religious academic background, a wife and two university-educated daughters, Karin and Rona, 19 and 20, all also blondes.
The missionary spirit, however, prevailed in me. The will, the strong desire to preach, to illustrate people and open minds, was my great motivation. I ignored the warnings about the risks of the endeavor and left my home, my homeland. I embarked on the adventure.
Gladys was apprehensive, with a lot of fear, but as a devoted wife, she accepted my final decision and accompanied me. The girls too, although upset at having to suspend a year of studies at college and withdraw from friends and social life, while still young, at the ages of 19 and 20.
It really was a radical change for us, another social, economic and cultural reality different from ours, which we discovered when we arrived. It would have been nice if that was all. The culture shock, however, showed itself in every aspect. We were not the only white people there. There were five others. But blond, fair-skinned as milk, only us. And women, just the three.
For this, they aroused attention and sexual desire. The men looked at them excitedly, full of lust.
One morning, I left to do my work in another village, leaving my wife and daughters. The local assistant who was advising me told me that due to the distance, we would stay there overnight and return the following afternoon.
That evening, in my absence, there was a kind of party, a type of celebration for some reason of theirs. A bonfire was made and everyone gathered around it, with musical instruments and lots of brandy. They sang, drank and danced in an increasingly rowdy and frenzied atmosphere.
Our host called my wife and daughters to go have some fun. The girls had walked a lot during the day, they were tired and preferred to sleep.
Gladys sat in a corner, observing without much interest the percussion and dances, black men and women in colorful, brief clothes, doing evolutions and sensual movements. Something too daring for her modesty and too pagan for her religious feelings.
At all times, she was offered strong drinks in bamboo cups. She tasted them and, unaccustomed to drink, soon felt the effects of the excess of alcohol. She became dizzy and a little drunk very quickly.
And also at every moment, men asked her to dance. She tried without success to imitate the graceful and sensual evolutions of the black dancers, because she was not used to it.
The men took advantage and in rotation, they would wrap her up, pulling her tightly to themselves, that single blonde woman in the midst of dozens of black men.
And with each dance, Gladys felt their tightness, their big dicks rubbing against her, pressing her crotch, rubbing her pussy. In the heart of Africa, she was half-drunk, horny, embraced by young black men. Feeling more and more attracted. Enjoying. Liking. Feeling pleasure in being in the guys' arms. They abusively rubbing their black dicks on her pussy over the clothes.
Until one of them took her to a corner.
Hidden, just the two of them there, he lowered his clothes and displayed a dark, thick, hard cock and a huge sack. And told her to suck it.
My wife bent down and at the cost put that thick cock in her mouth. It didn't fit all the way in and it was very bulky, but he got it all the way down her throat.
She felt that he was almost cumming, a few drops of semen were coming out of the hole in the head of his penis, filling her mouth.
But it was not what he wanted.
He pulled out his cock, stood her up and slipping his hands under her dress, ripped off her panties. Almost tore it. He took off her lingerie pulling it tight, down her legs.
And very quickly, frantically, he shoved his thick cock between her thighs and rammed it into her hot, blonde-haired pussy all at once.
