Great Horn Of Africa Pt 01

Scott's story:

It funny how things work out. My wife and I were lying in bed watching a porno flick. It was supposed to be about a white girl who got sold into white slavery by her husband, or father, or somebody close to her. The plot wasn't all that good, but the action scenes were pretty hot.

Beth and I have been married for nearly twenty years. We got married right out of high school, and neither of us have ever had another sexual partner. I know I haven't, and I'm pretty sure about Beth. I'm Scott Wheeler, by the way.

At thirty-eight, and after having two children, Beth is still a fine-looking woman. She works hard to keep her body in good shape, although no one but me ever gets to enjoy it.

Our love life has slowed down considerably over the past few years. Age and mileage seemed to be taking over. After we got married, Beth worked to send me to business school. I opened my own accounting business. I'm a CPA with a long list of good clients. We finally got to where we are living comfortably. Our oldest daughter is in college, and the youngest is a senior in high school. Every aspect of my life is good, except in the bedroom. Watching porno seems to be one of the few things that would get us excited enough to make love. I guess I'm a little sad about that.

"I wonder what that would be like?" Beth said as we watched the video tape.

"I'll show you in a few minutes," I said trying to do a villainous leer.

"Not that, silly. I mean, being a prostitute. Going to bed and making love to strangers."

"I doubt there is much love involved," I said dryly. "I suspect it just plain ol' fucking." Beth hates the word fuck, and usually fusses at me for using it. This time she seemed to either not hear me, or decided to ignore it.

"I mean it would be an exciting life, I would think. Not knowing who your next customer would be. What they would be like. What they would want you to do for them."

"I guess," I said wondering where this line of conversation would go. Beth seldom commented on the porno I brought in. Sometimes she won't even watch them.

"That poor girl has a black pimp.is that the right word?" I nodded. "Her pimp tells her where to go, and what to do every day of her life." She was silent a moment and then continued. "He takes her whenever he wants to. He does unspeakable thing to her. Why are you laughing?"

"They're not unspeakable, Beth. The pimp often speaks of them. 'Get over here bitch and suck my cock.' 'Come here whore, and bend over so I can fuck your ass'."

"You know what I mean," Beth punched me in the ribs. "I pity the poor girl."

I noticed that Beth was rubbing one of her nipples. "And yet you also envy her," I said.

"Yes, I guess so, in a way," she answered after a few moments. "I wonder what it would be like to be totally uninhibited. To have sex with a lot of different men. To do that, and not have to think about it. Not to have a choice in the matter."

"So, you want me to find you a pimp?" I teased.

"You don't know any pimps," she said with a laugh.

"As a matter of fact, I do know a pimp. I have one for a client, Miss know-it-all."

"Really? I didn't know that. Who is it?"

"You know I don't discuss my clients, at home," I said putting my arm around her shoulders. "When I get him to take you on as his whore, you'll get to know him very well then."

"Why? What will he do to me?"

"Before he puts you to work, he'll have to try you out. He would take you to his house and fuck you all week-end long. He'd bring in a few friends to fuck you also." I kept up that kind of talk for a while. I played with her ample breasts, and when I put my hand down between her legs, I was a little surprised to find that she was soaking wet. I knew I was on to something, I just wasn't sure what it was.

Like a lot of men, when I find something that works, I stick with it. I used the theme for several weeks, and it worked like a charm every time. Beth would almost immediately warm up. We fucked like a couple of rabbits. ***

Two days after the end of the quarter, like clockwork, Roland Morgan brought his papers and books to my office. Roland, or Big R, as he's known on the street, has many irons in the fire. He owns a strip club, a convenience store, a liquor store, and a couple more enterprises. Most designed to laundry the illegal flow of money from his whores.

On our first meeting, I made it a point to tell Big R that I wasn't like a lawyer. I told him not to tell me anything that he didn't want told in court. Big R laughed when I told him that. He told me he wasn't worried, that he was protected. I discovered that he was paying out large sums of money to the cops. It was entered on his books as casual employment and miscellaneous expenses. I didn't know, or want to know, how many cops he was paying off, but the figures for casual employment and miscellaneous were large. On paper, Big R was a wealthy man, and I was sure that a lot of cash didn't get to the books.

"How's it going Mister Wheeler?" Big R asked setting the arm load of books on my desk. Describing Big R is difficult because there nothing about him that's unusual or remarkable. He's black, I'd guess late thirties or early forties, Five-nine or five-ten, and medium weight, neither heavy or light. He's a spiffy dresser, but not pimp flashy. He seemed to be mild mannered and soft spoken. I decided to ask him something that had been bothering me.

"Couldn't be better Mister Morgan," I answered. "I know it's none of my business, but I've wondered why they call you Big R."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, I can see why you might wonder. My momma named me Roland and my Pop took one look at my equipment, and called me Big R. The name just stuck. "

I know I must have turned five shades of red. I managed to say, "Oh, I see."

"Yeah, when you start out life with a big dick, you get tagged with some sort of nickname. Go on, Mister Wheeler. You can ask."

"Ah er well how big was it?"

"My seventh-grade teacher measured it," he said laughing. "It was six and a half inches long then. Coming in at just under nine inches now. I kinda grew into it, I guess."

"Your school teacher measured it?" I stammered. "Why?"

"She was curious I guess. I fucked her two years later in the backseat of her car in the school parking lot." He laughed. "I had grown some by then. You going to call me when you get my books done?"

"Yes," I said. "I know I'm asking a lot of questions, but how does a person become a pimp?"

"I guess there's a lot of ways," he said. "I started in high school. Girls found out I had a big dick, and I got in a lot of panties. It wasn't long before I had more pussy than I could handle, so I sold some to the other guys. I had a variety of gals. Black, white, Hispanics, and a few Asian. I found that the black guys wanted white girls, and white guys wanted black girls, and almost any of them would fuck a gook or Mexican gal. I found out what the demand was, and supplied it. Still do, for that matter."

"I see. I guess that's what makes the world go around. Supply and demand. Still have a lot of girls?"

"I got twelve right now," he said. "Ten white girls and two black ones. I supply mostly to the black community, and they want white nookie. How long we been doing business? Four or five years, ain't it? So why all the questions now? I don't mind, but I'm curious."

"Oh, this woman I know was asking me about prostitution," I said. "I told her I'd check around." God! It sounded lame even to me.

"She's thinkin' about trying it?" Big R asked. "You can tell her it's fuckin' dangerous to go out independent. Lot of things can, and will go wrong. What she looks like?" I don't know why, but I described Beth perfectly to him. "Sounds like she might make a good whore. A mature white woman, that has been around the block a few times can make some serious money." Son of a bitch! He was looking at the photo of Beth on my desk "You tell her that I'm fair with my bitches. I don't dope them, or keep their money. They can work as much, or as little as they want. All I ask is they be fair with me, and keep themselves clean. I insist on a check-up every two weeks, and that everybody uses a rubber." He looked me in the eye. "How serious is this chick? Is she thinking about it for the money, or for the fun of it?"

"I guess mostly for the fun of it. She doesn't need the money." How on earth did I let the conversation get this far. What the hell was I thinking?

"Best kind of whore," Big R said, glancing at Beth's picture again. "If she's looking for adventure, I can supply it. I got to go. Call me when the books are ready to be picked up." ***

"I spoke with Big. ah, my client today," I said. Beth and I were sitting at the kitchen table. The only daughter at home, wasn't at home, as usual.

"What big client is that, dear?"

"Not a big client. The pimp client I told you about." Beth's fork stopped half way to her mouth.

"What did you talk about?" she asked, putting the food back on her plate.

"This and that," I answered, probably a little smug. "How things were going with his business."

"And how are things in his business?"

"Apparently pretty good," I know I was grinning like a simpleton, but I couldn't help it Beth pushed her food around on the plate a few moments then got up, and put her plate in the sink.

"I'm going to take a shower and go on the bed," Beth said leaving the kitchen.

"Okay, I'll be up in a little while. Oh, by the way," I called after she had left. "He said you could interview for a job anytime you wanted to." Timing is everything. I waited for it. I didn't have to look up to know that she was back in the doorway. I could hear her breathing.

"What are you talking about, Scott?" she demanded.

"What? I thought you had gone." I was playing it cool and having some fun. "I mentioned to.my client, that I knew a woman who was thinking about becoming a prostitute. When I described her, he became interested. He said it sounded like she would make a good whore for him." Beth came on in the kitchen, and stopped beside my chair.

"Are you out of your mind?" she said, her voice cold, and trembling with passion. Not the good kind. "Tell me, Scott, are you out of your God damned mind?" Her voice had risen to a screech.

"Hey, Beth, calm down," I said. I wasn't having any fun now. "I didn't tell him who. I didn't give him any names or anything. He won't be calling you on the phone." She glared hard at me, her chest rising and falling. "I can't believe you," she said, and hurried out of the room. It's strange how something can turn into a bucket of shit so quick.

I watched some TV a while, read a book for a while, and stalled as long as I could. I was absolutely in no rush to go up to bed. I woke up when my daughter came in at quarter passed eleven. I lucked out, because Beth was asleep when I got to the bed.

The next day I was up and out of the house before Beth awoke, but that evening she seemed to be her old cheerful self. You can bet your ass, I didn't bring up the subject of our discontent. Actually, it was a couple nights later that it was mentioned. Beth brought it up.

"So, what did you tell him?" she asked. I was already in bed and Beth was brushing her long auburn hair. She was looking at me in the mirror. It crossed my mind, briefly, to faint a lack of understanding, but I knew she knew I knew.

"Not all that much. I ask him how he got in the business, and it kind of evolved from there." I repeated the conversation between Big R and me.

"You told him I was pretty?" she asked.

"I did not. I told him that my friend was beautiful and super sexy." She didn't say anything for a while.

"I overreacted, didn't I?"

"Maybe just a tad," I acknowledged. "But maybe you were justified. Who knows?"

"I can't believe his teacher measured his thing. That's too bizarre. And they did it a couple years later?"

"That's what he said. He strikes me as a man that doesn't have to brag."

"And he said that he thought I could do well in the business?"

"He certainly did. He said a sexy mature woman could do very well." When she didn't respond right away I said, "While he was talking to me, I got a mental picture of you and him. Together you know. Having sex." Beth turned around to look directly at me. A smile was playing around her mouth.

"Tell me about that mental image. What exactly did you see?"

I went into a long and fanciful story of what I saw in my mind. Beth came and lay down beside me as I spun the yarn. Some of it I had visualized, but most I conjured up from my mind. I had no more than finished the tale and

Beth was all over me. She was like a wild woman who had been denied sex for a long time. ***

"You got a VCR?' Big R asked me. He had come to get the books. I told him I did, and he handed me a video tape. "You tell your friend to watch this tape, and then if she wants to talk, we can."

After he left I put the tape in my player that's build in the small TV I have in the office. The tape started showing Big R setting behind a big desk. He was speaking to someone out of sight.

"Why do you want to get in the business?" he asked. The sound wasn't all that clear, but I could understand him.

"I need some money," a female voice said. "I need a lot of money, fast." The camera widened out, and I saw an attractive white woman sitting on a chair in front of the desk. The angle didn't change, and I wondered if it was done remotely.

"You ever been a professional whore?" Big R asked. She shook her head and murmured something I couldn't hear. "I'm going to assume that you ain't a virgin."

"No, I'm hardly a virgin. I'm married, and I have two children."

"Most of our customers are black," Big R said. "You ever fucked a black man before?" She shook her head in the negative. "Do you like to fuck?" She nodded her head. "You get a blood test, like I ask you to do?"

"Yes sir, I did. Like I told you on the phone. I have never had sex with anybody except my husband. ever."

"I guess that answers the question about threesomes and gangbangs. Ever made it with a chick?"

"No sir," she answered in a soft voice.

"Why did you decide to be a whore?" Big R asked bluntly.

"I don't know. I guess because I thought that I could make some money doing something I like, and that I'm good at. I don't have any training or skills to fall back on. I've always been a housewife and mother. Last year my husband got sick. He was out of work for nearly six months. We got way behind in our bills. The mortgage company is demanding back house payments, or they'll foreclose."

"Your hubby know that you are applying to be a whore?" She nodded slowly. "He all right with it?"

"Yes. I don't know if he is or not. He said he was, but I don't know for sure. We're desperate, so It doesn't really matter. He's working two jobs, and we still aren't catching up very fast."

"We are being videotaped," Big R said. "You see that camera over there on the shelf? Look right at the camera and say your name, your age, and that you are applying for a job as a whore of your own free will." The woman

turned slightly, and looked right into the camera.

"My name is Holly May McAllister. I am twenty-six years old. I am applying for a job as a whore of my own free will."

"Stand up Holly May," big R instructed. "I want you to take off your clothes. Keep looking at the camera while you do." The woman did as he instructed. Soon she was naked. Holly May had breasts that were in the category of "mouthful", but they were well formed. The camera zoomed in on her chest and I could see that her boobs were like two cones on her chest.

The camera panned down to show that she had a narrow strip of pubic hair above her slit. The camera widened back out to show all of her. I wondered who was operating the camera, as Big R didn't seem to move his hands. The only nervousness she displayed was biting her lower lip.

"Are you ready to continue?" Big R asked her. She nodded, and he led her through a door behind the desk. The picture went snowy, and then reappeared again in a bedroom setting. Big R was sitting on the edge of a bed with his clothes off. He was holding a huge cock in one hand. Obviously, he had been truthful about the size of his cock. I stopped the tape and rewound it. I wanted to watch it with Beth. I had to watch it with her.

Beth's story:

I know I am a very lucky woman. I'm married to a wonderful man, I have two wonderful daughters, and I live in a nice house. Everything is perfect. That's not exactly the truth. It's not perfect, just comfortable. I'm not sure when I began to have feelings of dissatisfaction. Maybe they came in small increments over a long period of time. I don't know.

Scott is a hardworking man. He had to be earlier in our marriage, because we were usually only a few dollars from financial disaster. Scott's problem is, he didn't know when to slow down. We managed over the years to save enough so that both girls can go to college without us having to scrimp. Scott made some good investments that has paid off. He doesn't need to work all the time like he used to. But he does.

One night a couple of weeks ago, Scott brought in another adult video. I don't care for them much, but I've learned that if I want sex I have to put up with them. They do serve the purpose of arousing Scott. This tape was a lot different. The theme was a white girl who went to work as a prostitute for a black pimp. There was a lot of sex between her and various black men. I realize that it was just a movie with professional actors, but for some reason it sang to me. I envied the girl, and her ability to have casual sex with strangers. I liked the idea that she got paid to have sex with a lot of men. There was one scene that stuck in my mind vividly. The scene is firmly stuck in my memory so that I can quote the dialog from my memory.

The woman just returned from servicing a customer. John, they called it. Her pimp and another man were waiting on her. She smiles at her pimp, and gives him a big, long, deep kiss.

"Get your cunt all juiced up, did you?" the pimp said. The woman said she had. "Get them clothes off, and let us see your slick, gooey pussy." The woman glanced at the other man, but took her clothes off. "Look here Tyrone," the pimp said. "She's still wet from her black sexin' That mutherfucker use a rubber?" The girl said of course. She said she knew the rules. "Good. Get down on your knees and give my cock a good suckin' Me and Tyrone are going to give you some more black cock."

The girl, Gina or Tina, got down, and took the man's big black penis out of his pants and proceeded to give him oral sex. I have never cared for oral sex, but she made it look like fun. Over the next thirty minutes or so, the pimp, and the man called Tyrone, had sex her in every imaginable position and combinations. The finale was both men took her. One in her vagina and one in her rectum. I admired, and envied the ease with which she took both of them in her. She appeared as if she like it a lot. I said my thoughts aloud to Scott without think about it. The end result was Scott and I had sex that was greater than any in recent history for us. In fact our sex life took a sharp upturn for the next several weeks.

The words they used in that video kept running through my head. Pussy, cunt, whore, cock and fuck. All words that I hate, and never use. Scott said fuck sometimes, but I always chided him when he did. For some reason I couldn't

get the nasty words out of my mind.

Scott has a client that he says is a pimp. I doubted it at first, but I can usually tell when Scott is lying to me. One night he had the audacity to tell me he had discussed me with the pimp. I flew into a rage. I wanted to choke Scott, but as quickly as the anger came, it left, and for some strange reason I was glad Scott talked to the pimp.***