Into Africa Ch 04

CHAPTER 4: MR. OKAFOR

I was kneeling naked before Mr. Contee who sat on the couch in the living room which was next to the front door of my home. My head was bent to his lap, his slacks undone and his big cock halfway in my mouth when we heard a car door slam outside. Mr. Contee's hand stroked my head reassuringly as the front door opened and I heard the initial footsteps of my husband, Robert, enter the house. His view would be me on my knees naked from the side with Mr. Contee's long cock partially visible below my mouth. Mr. Contee's used his left hand to stroke my hair so as not to block the view of what was happening.

This was the answer to a question I had raised some time ago. How was my husband going to react to my conversion to worshiping African cock. It was difficult to come up with the proper word. Worship? I had given myself up to serving African cock completely and that was all I was sure about. In the end, it was all I care about. But there remained a part of me that sympathized for Robert. Not that his sexuality changed much. There hadn't been much sex in our life before all this began.

I knew Robert stood in the foyer with a clear view of me and Mr. Contee. Mr. Contee broke the silence that for me was very tense. "Robert, there you are. Why don't you get yourself a drink and join us? We've been waiting for you. I have something I need to ask you and it involves your lovely wife." Mr. Contee was so relaxed and confident about this. Me, I half thought my husband might react far beyond anything I had ever seen from his normal demeanor and reach for a candlestick to use as a weapon on Mr. Contee's head.

When I heard Robert's footsteps recede into the house, I exhaled a huge breath around the cock in my mouth; a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding. I had been told what all this was about shortly after Dimka began earnestly training me for big African cock. Robert was still in the dark. I giggled to myself at the thought. I was the one deep in the dark ... dark black African men's bodies and cocks. Robert was just unaware. The videos we were instructed to watch, the language audio lessons, all were embedded with subliminal messaging. Both of us were being convinced that African men were dominant, superior men in control. Our role as whites among their superior presence was to honor and serve them. It started easy with respect and deference but evolved to compliance in their suggestions. By the time I gave myself over to experiencing Mr. Contee's magnificent cock that day and Dimka's cock the next day, I was hooked and my hook went beyond a messaging trick. The hook in me was deep inside that managed to find a part of me that always wanted this even if not in this exact form.

I heard Robert's footsteps returning. I had truly given myself over to these men. My actions with Dimka, Mr. Contee, and Mr. Ibori were all mine. Robert would still need the messaging and to make sure he was receiving them (should he lapse in listening to the language lessons), they were also embedded in private video conferencing between him and remote sites.

As Robert came to the living room, I pulled my mouth from Mr. Contee's long cock, kissed the top (purely a reflex action), and stood to greet my husband after a day at work. I placed a hand on the side of his face and give him a quick kiss on the lips. I watched his reaction as I was sure Mr. Contee was. I had been nervous about this moment. If the messaging hadn't been enough to override this situation in his mind, what would be the outcome ... for Robert. There was little reaction. The slight tension I felt in him was not different than could be assumed by the presence of your boss at any time.

I asked Robert how his day was as I stood naked before him with his boss on the couch and his black cock exposed. He responded as he always did, fine. Robert was a non-communicator unless he was asked about a project he was working on and then it didn't matter if I understood what he was saying or not, he went into great detail. So, I asked what he was working on and added that Mr. Contee would certainly be interested, also. Robert sat in an easy chair on the other side of the coffee table and I resume my position before Mr. Contee and retook his cock into my mouth and soon down my throat. Robert never stuttered or lost the flow of what he was expressing. I heard none of it. I had an African cock in my mouth.

Mr. Contee had questions about his project because the talk went on and on. Mr. Contee had certainly made his point about Robert's reaction. When I felt the cock pulse, I pulled my mouth off and looked intently at him. He looked down and uttered a single word, pussy. If I had continued sucking, he would have cum in my mouth. He wanted to cum in my pussy ... in front of my husband.

I stood after licking the excess saliva off his cock, turned my back to him so I was facing Robert, and stutter-stepped back over his legs so my feet were outside his legs. I glanced at Robert across from me. I could see in his eyes that he was aware, uncomfortable with what he saw but not objecting. I reached down to grasp the large cock to align it with my ready pussy and slowly sat down over it. I caught his eyes as I gasped at it entering me (always an amazing initial feeling) and slowly began settling down over it, aware of how it must look to him for his wife to have such a large, dark cock sinking into her.

The conversation ended at that point. I was intent on fucking Mr. Contee, rising so just the head was inside, then sinking over the full length to draw groans from him and me. The image I had of Robert during it all: quietly sipping his drink, awkwardly shifting in the chair, his eyes diverting from what was before him as if embarrassed but not able to not look. His wife was fucking his boss in front of him in his home and he was unable or unwilling to even offer an objection.

Mr. Contee reached around to pinch and rolled my nipples as my fucking became more urgent, then a hand dropped down my front to stroke my clit as I rose and fell over his cock. I orgasmed and his strong voice behind me drove me to continue furiously fucking up and down despite weakened, shaking legs and body. When he came inside me, I used my pussy muscles to milk him as I allowed myself to collapse back against him. With my eyes closed since my orgasm, I had forgotten Robert until Mr. Contee again spoke but not to me.

"Your wife is magnificent, Robert," he uttered, "you are a lucky man to have such a woman." I detected an underlying mocking to his tone. Truthfully, Robert hadn't touched me in months and little before that. Though part of my training with Dimka had been to strengthen my pussy muscles specifically for the small cocks I might encounter (and haven't yet), it suddenly sunk into me that I might feel the motivation to the effort for my white husband who weakly sat across from me. I looked at Robert now. His eyes did not rise to confront mine but meekly viewed the display before him even as he tried not to look.

I was relaxed and content sitting on Mr. Contee and I was somewhat surprised by that. Mr. Contee's hands roamed casually and easily over my exposed, naked body. He fondled my breasts, rolled and squeezed my nipples, and lightly caressed my engorged clit and stuffed pussy blatantly displayed by my splayed legs.

Mr. Contee laughed behind me. I felt his body rise and shake as he did and it drew Robert's attention back from wherever it had slipped while awkwardly observing.

"I almost forgot what brought me here," he lied. This was all planned to show me Robert's conditioning and cement in Robert the new reality. "You may have heard we, the Corporation, has made a new acquisition." Robert nodded. He seemed a bit confused by the change back to business. "Yes, of course, it's big news, isn't it? Yes. So, Mr. Okfafor is having a group of our executives and their executives together for a celebration and bonding event at his hunting lodge. It will be for an entire weekend, Friday through Sunday." His hands and fingers never stopped on my body and I wiggled on him to feel his still embedded cock move in my pussy as I sighed contentedly. It was very exciting to be displayed this way in front of my compliant husband and that excitement began re-surging through me.

"On my recommendation, your wife, Ann," he continued while stroking me more aggressively as if to clarify who he was talking about, "has been invited to participate. She will be needed all weekend starting Thursday night. Since Mr. Okafor has not met her previously, I thought it would be good for them to become ... how should I say ... familiarized ... yes, familiarized before the guests arrive. It will be important for her to be aware of any special considerations and expectations he may have, don't you think?"

I watched Robert. It was presented so matter-of-factually it might have been about tea in the afternoon.

"What time should we ..." Robert began.

Mr. Contee laughed, again. "Not you, dear man. No, just your wife."

"Oh ..." Robert's voice was full of the complete impact of his condition. "Yes ... of course. I'm ... yes ... we're happy to ... ah ... to ah ... support Mr. Okafor's ... whatever Mr. Okafor thinks best."

Mr. Contee patted my hip and shifted. I took that as the sign this was over. I leaned forward to plant my feet firmly on the floor and stand. I wasn't trying to rub it into Robert. I wasn't ... I just so enjoy the feel of these big African cocks sliding from my well-used pussy that I rose slowly, the cum-covered black cock retreating from my white body.

I cleaned Mr. Contee's cock with my tongue, then walked him to the front door, then stood brazenly in the open door to wave as he drove off. Like a good hostess?

I had dinner warm in the oven. I disappeared to the bedroom to dress and we sat down to eat in the dining room. A normal evening.

* * * *

"Honey," Robert called, "they're here to pick you up." He had taken the afternoon off to see me off. That was sweet. It was pathetic, too. I rushed out of the bedroom and into the hall toward him. "You're not even dressed. And where's your suitcase?"

I stopped before him wearing a big smile ... and little else. "This is what I was instructed to wear," I responded. He looked up and down my body. I was barefoot, my pussy freshly shaved, just a hint of makeup, and my hair just done that morning. The one thing I was wearing was sent by Mr. Okafor for this weekend: a dark, woven hide choker with an intricately carved ivory medallion hanging from the front.

"Isn't it beautiful," I added. "Mr. Okafor sent it."

"But ..." His head was moving back and forth but he didn't utter it. "The weekend ..." he suggested as if he had moved past my leaving the house naked for the couple hour drive to the hunting lodge with Mr. Contee and Dimka, "... clothes for the weekend?"

I gave him a peck on the cheek and it hit me that the only lips I have kissed in a while have been African men. I backed to the open door, "Don't be silly ... you think I was requested because of my business skill?" I giggled as I turned, then turned back. "I'll see you Sunday night ... wait ... it might be late so don't wait up."

I was almost skipping down the walk to the car where Dimka stood with the back door open with Mr. Contee inside. Neighbors? It didn't occur to me to wonder or worry.

I squeezed in tightly against Mr. Contee who raised his arm for me to settle in, his hand draping over my shoulder to lightly stroke my breast and tease the nipple.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Garrett?" I squirmed into his side. It was such a tease to use my formal title as another man's wife.

"Oh, yes, sir, very ready. Do you know how many men will be there, yet?" He chuckled at my excitement and I caught the eye of Dimka in the rearview mirror. He had received a lot of personal credit and praise for his effective effort in my transformation. It had been quite a while since I had needed subliminal messaging. The only messaging I required now was the continued promise of a big African cock. In recognition, Dimka had been promoted, received a significant pay increase, and continue a close connection with me, something he and I both enjoyed.

"The information I have is 10 men will be in attendance." I looked up at him and my hand slid up his thigh to his crotch. His long cock lay dormant underneath. I squeezed and felt a twitch in response. "Do you think that is enough for you?"

I pressed against him and stroked the bulge in his pants. "You're teasing me, sir."

He chuckled. "Well ... there are the two men and one woman who take care of the lodge." I looked up at him. "Have you been with a woman, Mrs. Garrett?" I shook my head. So, 12 men and a woman, I thought. I wondered if the woman would fit in ... would the woman fit in?

I sat up straight and half turned to him. "May I fuck you, sir?" This was all too exciting. My fingers were poised at his belt anticipating, hoping, for his agreement.

"No." I was stunned. Being fucked was what I was for. With African men, I always expected, anticipated, desired to be fucked. Then, "You should be clean inside for Mr. Okafor." I bit my lower lip and nodded. Yes, that would make sense. I would be presented to Mr. Okafor as I had been to Mr. Ibori in respect and honor to their higher positions of power and authority. Yes, his should be the first cum in my pussy ... or ass. I absently mused about how big Mr. Okafor was. Were all these Africans so big? Dimka had assured me that not all African men had big cocks. I wondered about the United African men, though. I ventured the question.

"Sir," I tentative began, "is Mr. Okafor ... is he ... is he big down here, too?"

Mr. Contee chuckled. "Does it matter to you?"

"OH, NO, SIR!" I quickly responded. "No, no ... it's just that ... all of you so far have big cocks and I was just wondering ..." I glanced at Dimka who was watching intently, glancing from the road to the mirror. "Sir," as my fingers continued stroking through his pants on the growing cock, which was big, of course, "Dimka just said not all African men are and ..."

He squeezed my nipple hard and I winced but didn't call out. "You can't fuck me but you can suck my cock and be careful to swallow it all." I immediately began opening his slacks and was ready to leave my question behind but he continued. "Many of the men in responsible positions are all ancestrally from the same tribe. And, genetically, they produce big cocks." He sighed as my mouth enclosed his now semi-hard cock. "Hmmmm ... lovely, my dear ... anyway, Dimka, maybe we should take her to the village sometime. What do you think?"

He chuckled, too. "I think they would enjoy her."

* * * *

After swallowing the cum of Mr. Contee, I was instructed to climb to the front where I leaned over the center console to also suck Dimka's cum into my stomach. As the car pulled up to the massive gates of the lodge, I was given a couple of mints to cover the lingering smell of cum in my mouth and throat. I suddenly became nervous. Not about what the unknown for the coming weekend might bring but meeting such an influential and important African like Mr. Okafor. I was so dripping wet, I wondered if it would leave a wet spot on the leather seat.

Dimka parked in an area that looked like it was for that purpose. I walked the sidewalk to the massive front door behind Mr. Contee and alongside Dimka. I fingered the choker, the only thing I wore as I walked even barefoot. The door was opened by a deeply black-skinned woman in her mid-30's. She was bare-breasted. Otherwise, she wore a striking grouping of necklaces, a skirt that spoke of native tribal presentations in books, and delicate sandals. She gave a slight bow to the men and eyed me with interest as I passed into the house behind them.

Mr. Contee seemed to know where he was going through the great entryway to an expansive room of dark wood, paintings of African scenes, and numerous mounted heads and stuffed animals. An older man standing at an expansive window turns as we all enter the room. He is about 55 years old, about 5'-10" tall with an average body gone soft. His hair is tightly curled, cut short, black with touches of gray sprinkled throughout.

"Mrs. Garrett, I presume," he started. He put his hand out to me and mine began to rise to take it but the hand was not for a welcome shake but to grasp a nipple between thumb and forefinger. I fought the impulse to flinch at the surprising move. He fingered the medallion on the choker around my neck. "It looks good on you. What do you think the image depicts?" I blushed. I assumed the impression I had of it was due to my arousal about the weekend. He noticed my hesitancy, smiled, and encouraged me.

"A pussy, sir."

He smiled broadly. "Exactly!" He looked past me. "I like her. You may be right about her being the one," he said to the men behind me. He returned his eyes to me. "Only a special kind of woman can rightly wear this and we will see if you might be that woman." He boldly slid his hand down, the fingertips teasing down my body toward my pussy. I parted my feet in anticipation. His hand went between my thighs and a finger moved over my lips, found my hole, and inserted. He smiled, again. "Wet already."

"She seems to have become into a state of perpetual readiness, sir," came Dimka's voice behind.

He raised my chin to look me intently in the eyes. "As I said, this medallion can only be worn by a very special woman. It has to be earned, the woman proven. I loan it to you for the weekend but this weekend will tell me. Its significance is known by Africans of certain tribal heritages. It is not a trifle thing to be wearing it, do you understand?"

"I understand, sir, that I will not disappoint you this weekend. I will not embarrass you for putting this lovely symbol on my neck." I fix my gaze on his dark, black eyes, "I now understand myself, sir. I only wish to serve and please African men."

"We'll see," was his response as he took my hand and led me out of the room. We passed the bare-breasted woman standing at the entrance to the room. She was still watching me intently.

He led me to a room, a large room with many chairs along the walls but otherwise sparsely furnished except for the very large bed in the center of the room. This wasn't a bedroom and my guess was it was a room simply for sex able to accommodate many people. I immediately wondered if this room would be where I would spend much of my time this weekend.

He stopped alongside the bed which was made with only a bottom sheet. There was a sense of expectancy so I reached out to open his belt and the zipper of his slacks. He stood still. I reached inside, then into his underwear ... and smiled. He was big. I remembered what Mr. Contee said about the tribal ancestry and wondered if that could be true. I released his cock and moved my fingers to unbutton and remove his shirt to carefully lay it on a nearby chair. I then knelt at his feet, untied and removed his shoes, his socks, and then his pants down his legs.

After carefully folding his slacks and placing them on the chair, I returned to my knees before Mr. Okafor. I look up along his body as my fingers slid up his dark thighs and over his underwear to lightly caress his soft cock underneath. This was a body quite different from Mr. Contee's and certainly Dimka's. But power and authority oozed from this body as I knelt before him. It wasn't the body that compelled me. Dimka looked like an African man-god and his strength was compelling. Mr. Contee was similar but with more authority; Mr. Ibori was less physical. Mr. Okafor highlighted it all. Although physical appearance might be compelling, I was compelled by something African infused in me. In some part of me, I now might understand what might be a function of the previous messaging but it was now a part of me and a part of me I was happy to respond to.