Carol's Contract

Recently I got a call from a Tanzanian company, requesting certain parts and equipment for their factory operations outside the coastal capitol city of Dar es Salaam. The company spokesman told me that the chief executive officer and his number one buyer would be coming over to the states within the next month. This presented a problem. You see, since my business is so competitive worldwide, there’s been a long standing an under the table agreement that when a client comes in from overseas, our company supplies female companionship to these big shots from abroad. But, with business in a slump, and our capital running low, I knew I couldn’t afford the high class companions which my East African guests would expect.

At first I figured that a bit of investigative digging might be in order. Through a friend in a noncompetitive industry, I discovered that only the chief executive officer, a Mr Ngoro, would be needing a woman--preferably a white woman. The buyer was a very devout Muslim who did not believe in extra-marital relations for religious reasons. Okay, one down! But that still left me with a problem.

Now my wife, Carol, and I both knew, from the girls we used before, that black African men, especially East Africans, had a reputation for extremely large cocks which worked in our favor as we tried to find some interest in some of the “less expensive companions.” The only problem being that these “less expensive girls” were either really dumb, really ugly, or totally lacking in the social graces. We couldn’t find one girl who fit the bill the way we hoped. In fact the best we could expect was some plain Jane with big teats whom we hoped would keep her mouth shut.

“Great,” I finally griped. “We’re so close to a Tanzanian contract that we can taste it, and the best we can find is a second-rate Elly Mae Clampett who’d rather not be seen in public with blacks.”

“Listen to me,” Carol said. “I have an idea. Nobody knows how important this is more than I do. Let’s skip the cost of the agency girls and spend that money on wining and dining both the Tanzanians."

"Honey,” I sighed. “You’re beautiful and smart, and I love you, but we still have the quandary of how to handle overnight companionship for our CEO guest.”

“Just leave that to me,” Carol suggested straightforward. “On the day the men arrive, you won’t introduce me as your wife. I’ll be just another round-heeled secretary from the temp agency. The client gets laid. We get a half a million dollar contract, and nobody needs to know the truth but you and me.”

“I don’t like it,” I replied. Was I jealous? Of course I was. Carol and I had been married for seven years, since we were both in our twenties, and now we were both in our thirties--I’m thirty-six and Carol is thirty-two. We have two children ages four and three, and needless to say I wasn’t too thrilled about giving my brown-blond haired wife up to some hotshot African CEO.

“Do you see any other choice?"

"No. Damn it! You’re not going to do it.” But I could see from the look on her face that I was going to loose this argument. Suddenly Carol’s interest had peaked at the prospect of actively getting into the unofficial service end of our business. “A half a million dollar contract!” Those were her last words, and I knew I’d lost.

On the day of CEO Jawal Ngoro’s and buyer Phillipe Mugo-Maringa's visit, Carol took more care getting ready for work than usual. Her hair was shining from a beauty shop touch-up, her make-up was applied perfectly, and she was dressed in sexy black suspenders, seamed stockings, black knee length skirt with a daring split to the thigh and yellow silk blouse without a bra. I could clearly see her prominent light red-brown nipples showing through the translucent silk. She topped off the ensemble with a black scarf which didn’t hide a thing, in fact her scarf called attention to her see-through blouse.

Mr Ngoro and Mr Mugo-Maringa arrived at our office dead on time. Both were very handsome black men. Mr Ngoro was the youngest of the two, being in his late twenties, but I clearly saw that he was superior to his companion in a fashion which I had at first perceived as strictly business. To top it all off, Mr Mugo-Maringa insisted on my calling Mr Ngoro “Sir,” as if I were inferior to both of them. Sitting at her desk, pretending to type, my Carol looked at Mr Ngoro with undisguised admiration. Jealously I wondered if he’d noticed her look as well, but I decided to get down to business. The three of us went into my office, and, knowing that she couldn’t stand being left out, I called Carol in to take notes. She positioned herself so that her split skirt revealed a good length of stocking clad thigh. Her gorgeous legs were always her finest attribute, and I got an instant hard on with her blatant display to Mr Ngoro. While Mr Mugo-Maringa's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Still Mr Ngoro just smiled calmly. But as we laid out the plans for the equipment sales, I noticed that mentally Mr Ngoro was beginning to lay out plans for Carol. I sent her out for some cool drinks, while we discussed the deal. Jawal Ngoro said that he would be willing to go back to his hotel to think about it, but, if he had a woman with him for the night, it might influence his decision . By then I had changed my mind about Carol staying with him, and I offered to call up my most reliable and most expensive agency, but Ngoro stopped me by saying, "How about your secretary, Carol, would she like to spend the evening with us?"

I explained that Carol was married, but he insisted, "I hope that doesn’t change things. I like Carol very much, and she appears to be attracted to me. She has a very lovely body, don’t you think, Phillipe?" Mr Mugo-Maringa sighed in a disapproving way. “She’s very lovely, yes.”

I went out to see Carol and put it to her, adding that I didn't think it was such a good idea, but immediately she went back into the office and thanked Mr Ngoro for his kind offer. Carol agreed to go out with them for the evening providing I came along with them. Now that surprised me. Mr Mugo-Maringa suggested that I bring my wife along too, but I said she was staying with a friend for a few days. Carol giggled, surprised at my lie. We arranged to rendezvous with the two men later that evening. I told them that I’d pick up Carol at her home, and then drive over to meet them at their hotel.

Like an excited child, Carol dressed for the evening. As always, she looked divine, wearing a little black party dress over skimpy undies and sexy garters and stockings. Then I noticed her G-string thong was so tiny, it crept right up her crack. God, my hard on became painful. She’d gotten herself all done up for her first black African; so I made sure she had a good supply of condoms in her bag as I thought that after Jawal Ngoro fucked her that night, he probably would want to have a go at her in the morning as well. Needless to say, I both wanted to put that thought out of my head while I entertained the strange thrill of my wife being taken by this particular East African man. I was bothered. I just couldn’t figure out which way.

We met the two black men at their hotel, and I drove to the expensive restaurant which Mr Ngoro had chosen. Carol sat in the back seat of the car with Mr Ngoro, while Mr Mugo-Maringa road up front with me. I could hear her giggling as he asked her if her husband minded her being out on her own. Looking directly at me in the rearview mirror she said, "What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, besides, he's a bit of an old duffer anyway. A woman needs more than a man like him."

They all had a good laugh at “her husband’s” expense, and I joined in for appearances. As we drove on, I heard Carol sigh. I glanced round to see Mr Ngoro kissing her. Her legs were wide open and his black fingers had dropped furtively between her white thighs. We nearly had an accident as I swerved into the oncoming lane, and Phillipe Mugo-Maringa admonished me to concentrate on my driving.

Once we’d reached the restaurant, and had gotten seated--with the help of a picture of Ulysses S. Grant, I might add--Carol became very excitable, especially when Jawal nibbled on her ear lobe. About an hour and possibly five rounds of drinks later, Mr Jawal Ngoro surprised the hell out of me by openly handing me Carol’s damp panties to look after. My wife was luminous, her skin flushed and her eyes shined as Jawal continued to finger her underneath our table. I could tell that while Mr Mugo-Maringa was displeased, Mr Ngoro had become delirious with sexual excitement. As for Carol, well, she’d gone into heat.

After the meal I offered to run them back to their hotel but Mr Ngoro said that since my wife was away, why not go back to my place for drinks and whatever else. What could I do or say? I needed the contract and I realized that for the first time in my life I might see or at least hear my wife being fucked by another man. My stomach twisted, and I began to sweat. I was supposed to be upset--not turned on.

Once back home I fixed everyone a drink and saw to the baby-sitter, while checking on Carol’s and my children up in their beds, making sure they were asleep. When I returned, Carol had put some music on and was dancing with Jawal Ngoro. He’d hitched her dress up in back and his hands clutched at her naked bottom, his fingers dug into her butt crack to clasp her tightly against him. Their lips joined in a sensual kiss, and Carol threw her arms slinkily around his neck, drawing his face down to hers. I couldn't help myself, I moaned softly, and a dribble of watery semen seeped out to stain my briefs.

Jawal Ngoro sat my wife down on our plush sofa and pulled her dress up around her hips. Carol responded by removing her dress entirely, unzipping Ngoro’s fly, and tugging his dress slacks down past his knees. While I gazed at my wife's sleek white body, I heard her whimper "Oh my god! Just look at you!"

Then I received one of the biggest shocks of my life. I was looking at the largest cock I’d ever laid my eyes upon, and of that I'm absolutely certain. He still hung down partly flaccid, but already his dick was more than ten inches long. His masculinity dangled between his legs like some horse’s huge rubbery member.

Unsettled by looking at his slowly erecting cock, Carol paled. Slowly she took his monster in her dainty hands and gently started massaging it with her tiny fingers. I couldn't see how she was going to take such a titan organ into her loins without it having split her in two.

I was shaken out of my stupor by Phillipe Mugo-Maringa who reached over to me and pushed me down to my knees. He informed me that if I was so intent upon watching, then I better slip between Carol's long legs and lick her labia and cunt in order to prepare her for Mr Ngoro. As in a dream, I obediently did as I was told, lapping my tongue up and down the full length of Carol's gash, feeling her cunt buck in my face. I heard her moaning so I looked up to see her licking and sucking Ngoro's slick black cock, its fat black head squeezed itself clear from his foreskin, now fully erect and probably longer than a foot in length. His penis stood straight out like a fleshy black version of a policeman’s nightstick.

I tried to go back to eating Carol’s pussy, when Mr Mugo-Maringa pulled me away. He threw me to the side as Jawal Ngoro moved between Carol's splayed legs. I could just see her holding onto his massive shaft. Now guiding that huge shining black eight-ball of a knob between the soft dribbling folds of her labia, Carol gasped out in consternation. After he raised her stockinged legs up over his shoulders, Carol whispered something into Jawal’s ear. Then Mr Ngoro laughed and shook his head.

“I never wear one of those,” Jawal announced.

Wear one of what? I thought. Suddenly I realized Mr Ngoro meant that he wouldn't wear a condom, but I was certainly in no position to try to stop him. Carol must have sensed it as well, because after a quiet sigh, she just resigned herself to taking his long thick dick as he continued to feed it into her yawning pink pussy.

God, how she squealed as he took her. Realizing just how big he was, Carol twisted and turned as Jawal worked himself up inside her. I saw tears streaming down her cheeks. All I could do was stare as he pressed his thick cock inside her tight pink sheath. Sobs racked her body as Jawal forced inch after inch inside. When Ngoro had pushed close to eleven inches inside her, Carol begged him to go slower. However, although her loins fought him as he rammed in and out, there was no stopping him now. Suddenly he’d thrust all the way inside her womb, his balls nestling against her loins. Ngoro just stood there moving his hips gently back and forth.

Soon Carol began to respond. Her cries of distress turned slowly into sobs of pleasure. She started to work her loins against him, grinding her hips into him, while he leaned over her, letting Carol do all the work. Gasping under such exertion, Carol shuddered and then squealed right into a tiny climax, which turned out to be the first of many that night.

He pulled her down to the floor with her legs stretched over his shoulders, and then, kneeling purposefully over her, Ngoro fucked her hard. Meanwhile, aching ecstatically under him, Carol whimpered. For over forty minutes he drove Carol from one orgasm to the next until, wracked with passion, she was too weak to move. Ngoro carried on regardless of her misgivings, pausing only briefly to regain his composure or catch his breath.

Finally he no longer bothered to hold himself back, and Carol sensed that Jawal Ngoro was about to climax. Throwing away all caution, Carol was urging him, indeed, begging Jawal to spray his cum inside her. He continued to increase his speed and his pace, fucking her harder and faster. When Jawal came, Carol was frantic with both fright and delight, shrieking loud enough to be heard throughout the house.

I rushed upstairs to make sure that the kids weren’t awakened by the noise. When I came back downstairs, Phillipe Mugo-Maringa pushed me towards Mr Ngoro saying: "We must thank my chieftain for allowing us to watch him mate with this woman, then we must leave otherwise it will be on insult to him." Phillipe went up to Mr Ngoro and said: "Thank you, sir, for the honor you have bestowed upon me." Bowing slightly, I repeated Philipe’s words.

“Drive me back to the hotel,” Phillipe demanded. “I’ll need to get cleaned up and bring a change of clothing for my chieftain.” I resented being away from Carol and the house for the two hours it took to complete that errand, but all I could do to console myself was to think: “Five hundred thousand dollars.”

Since my mind was full of what I had seen earlier, I didn't get much sleep that night. Frequently my thoughts were interrupted from the sounds of our bed creaking upstairs. I listened to Carol moan and squeal as Jawal Ngoro took her again. Once I heard one of the kids get up to go to the bathroom after one of those particularly loud moments when Carol’s cries of delight became too boisterous. Unknowingly she’d awoken our four year old daughter, Beth, but I intercepted my little girl before she rushed headlong into our bedroom. Funny, I found myself tucking my little baby back into her bed, while her mother was fucking someone other than her father in my bed. But, I knew down deep that I actually enjoyed hearing the sounds of my wife being fucked by that massively endowed black African.

The next morning that snoop Mugo-Maringa uncovered proof that Carol was in fact my wife and not my secretary. The most obvious thing we didn’t consider were the various wedding photos and family portraits in the den. Phillipe was adamant about striding into the bedroom to inform his chieftain of our duplicity, but I stopped him by suggesting that he allow Mr Ngoro to sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to tattle on us.

However Jawal Ngoro made his own discovery soon enough when our three year old son walked into our bedroom, where she and Jawal had fallen asleep intertwined in each other’s arms and tried to shake Carol awake by calling out “Hey, mommy! I’m hungry.” Groggy Carol directed him by saying: “Greg, go ask your father."

"No, mommy! I want you to fix it.”

Mr Ngoro called out in Swahili for Mugo-Moringa to come into the bedroom. Both men traded information before they asked us why we’d gone through our elaborate deception. “Was it merely for the sake of getting our business, or had we done this before?”

Carol fielded that question beautifully by telling them that she’d convinced me to go along with this charade for the sake of her own excitement over the exciting prospect of humbling herself respectfully and sexually to Mr Ngoro. But Jawal Ngoro appeared to be genuinely hurt. Angry, he let slip that he had been hoping to find a white mistress while he was in this country, and last night Carol seemed to be the perfect candidate. Carol consoled him by whispering to him that she thought his idea would make a splendid arrangement.

Mugo-Maringa and I stood by watching my naked white wife lean close to Ngoro’s ear to politely ask the naked black man standing in my bedroom if the two of them could continue their relationship. Ngoro signaled that Carol and I should leave our own bedroom while he talked to Mugo Maringa. So I escorted my naked wife out into the hallway.

“Mommy,” four year old Beth asked. “How come you and that big black man don’t have any clothes on?"

"We’ll talk about that later, honey,” Carol said. The two of us went into the bathroom to talk.

“What do think you’re doing?” I asked her. “Overseas mistress?"

"I’m saving both of our asses,” she replied. “And the company contracts, as well.”

The two African men conversed in privacy for a long time. We continued to wait. Carol couldn’t even get dressed. All of her clothes were in the bedroom.

After ten minutes Phillipe called out for us to return to the bedroom. Jawal Ngoro beckoned Carol to his side and asked her something in a voice so low that I couldn’t overhear. Carol nodded her head and then nestled her soft white body into his arms so that she could kiss him right in front of Phillipe Mugo-Maringa and me.

They told me that if I agreed to have Carol go back to Ngoro's hotel room each night for the remaining two weeks of his visit, the business contract would continue. I looked at Carol and she signaled for me to agree to that condition. I had a lot of unspoken reservations, but, I consented to their terms. Before she accompanied him back to his hotel, I asked Carol what he’d said to her in private. Blushing red, she said she’d tell me later.

Jawal Ngoro didn’t leave at the end of the two weeks, although Phillipe Mugo Maringa left for Tanzania after a few days. Carol continued to meet Mr Ngoro at his hotel for lunch every day and each night after work. Under our agreement, Carol could come home to see the kids and me once a day for breakfast and a change of clothes. Finally after seventeen days, Carol came into the office with a big fat contract signed, sealed, and dropped on my desk.

“This is a six year contract. Potentially it’s worth more than three million dollars per year.” she beamed. My mouth dropped open. “Three million!"

"Oh, and I saw Jawal off at the airport before I came in to the office."

"He’s leaving? I’m surprised."

"Once we’d completed our part of the bargain, Jawal found urgent business back home in Tanzania.”

“So we’ve completed our part of the bargain?” I asked her. “Oh yes,” Carol answered. “We bought a home pregnancy test three nights ago, and I tested positive. So he took me to a clinic to have me tested by a doctor.”

“Are you pregnant?” She nodded. “That was our bargain all along."

"And you’re sure the baby’s his?"

"Well, I am his overseas mistress.”