Timmy Peddiwell wondered why he and his new wife were given this odd diplomatic assignment in Africa, although apparently his gorgeous wife heard some crazy rumors. It was a senior position and he was very junior for one thing. He also knew that it was customary for host countries to make preferences and for some reason he had been chosen from more qualified candidates, but arriving in the warm central African country, lush green valleys surrounded by mountain peaks, Rhonda was positively giddy about it, which made him feel good.
And then as they got to some shops, he saw more whites, and while the males seemed very average, the women were often gorgeous, and wore quite little for a supposedly conservative country. Rhonda mentioned it.
"Yes, to live in the forbidden part of the city you have to be approved, especially for foreigners. That comes with a certain degree of latitude for dress and behavior."
"So that includes us?"
"I'm afraid not, dear, all foreigners and especially diplomats are on a probation process. They are quite suspicious of whites here and more so of diplomats and their families."
Rhonda was surprised at that.
"Nobody mentioned that when we left Washington."
'Well, Obeah has to be seen first hand, honey. But if you have the right attitude you'll make out fine, trust me."
The first thing they both noticed was how as they rode into the walled capital city to his diplomatic compound, was how big the males were, and that wasn't all. Of course it was hot and Africa, but they wore very skimpy loin cloths. But what made him blush right away was the sacks they carried in them. Because Rhonda gaped at the first one she saw, and he knew she was trying not to mention it, a sensitive point with them, since he was not a big man. Not big in size in any way. And that was another thing, all the white males were of average or smaller size.
But he was briefed pretty skimpily for some reason before the trip, saying that would be handled in the field. And after they saw their own house with black male servants, also wearing tiny loin cloths over bulging genital sacs, his wife sighing and wide eyed but being a good diplomatic wife saying nothing, pretending to ignore them, he said he had a meeting with his mentor in the British consulate at a private club downtown. In fact he said the diplomat's wife would be here soon to welcome Rhonda or at least that's what his schedule said.
As he took a quick shower while she talked to the staff members as they introduced themselves, when he got out a very beautiful blonde woman of around 40 was in their salon.
"Dear," Rhonda smiled, "I'd like you to meet Octavia Huxley, her husband is with the British service."
"I know, I'm meeting him downtown at a club.
Octavia smiled as they shook hands.
"I'm so pleased America sent a young couple for a change. Capital life can be exhausting, although very rewarding and I could use the help. The Club Royale, we can drive by it."
"Octavia says she's been here for 15 years."
"Wow, isn't that unusual for your service to stay at a post that long? They like to rotate us around."
"True, but for many reasons the staff opts to stay in Obeah. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else now and my ******** is in the local high school."
"Oh, well, we have no kids yet." Rhonda explained. 'Well, who knows? In any case I'm taking Rhonda around the town so we can drop you off at the Club."
The short ride in the old coach car was interesting, but the main thing Octavia pointed out was the old Slave Quarters. That was one of the reasons America had an embassy here in the 19th century, to ransom out kidnapped citizens who were traded here by arab slavers.
"Look dear, those are the descendants of the slave trainers in their traditional headgear."
Octavia gaped, bigger and blacker and more hung than anything they had seen getting there and that was really saying something. They wore skimpy bright red silk thongs, silver armbands and bright silver rings in their ears.
"Oohhhh." she sighed. "Just look at that one."
"That one is Mahmoud, chief trainer."
"When you say trainer, Octavia, I thought you meant 'trader.'
"No, these have a high place in the rigid social structure here. They've trained the slaves they buy from Arabs for a thousand or more years."
"It seems so barbaric." Rhonda said.
"Different cultures, darling. Can't be judgmental in their country."
"But, still, don't they torture them? I don't see any whips or anything."
Octavia smiled, "in a way they do, dear, but they don't need whips. They have all they need to train a white woman dear, obviously." She and Rhonda smiled, Rhonda blushed a little and broke out into laughter, joined by Octavia, while Timmy also blushed and swallowed, smiling in agreement.
"I think you're right, Octavia." she laughed.
"That's why it's so difficult to bring a woman back from Obeah. They many times insist on staying even if we give them a plane ticket."
"They still do it, slave trade I mean?" Rhonda and Timmy were equally surprised.
'Well, Charles will tell you more, but under the surface, Obeah is very much like it was a thousand years ago. You have to adapt to what they say in the news, and well," nodding at giant grinning black man holding his huge organ in his hands bulging out his loincloth and giving himself a hardon for their benefit. Looking at the spectacular Octavia in her low cut blouse he saw something very odd for a diplomat's wife. A small black tattoo on her left breast. Kind of like a Queen of Spades tattoo he thought, and he knew Rhonda must have noticed but of course neither would mention it.
"What's he doing?"
"Him, oh ignore him but always smile politely. He's just looking for a servant's job."
"And that's how he gets it?"
"Well, he sees two white women in the car, but of course you never hire off the street. That would not only be dangerous but also an insult to the ruling class here. No, your house has a temporary service staff until you choose your own."
"They seemed nice."
"Well, they're all spies of course."
"Spies."
"Of course, that's the one thing Obeah shares with every other country, you can expect spies among your servants."
Rhonda asked Timmy if that was true and he nodded.
"But, when it comes time to choose your own you'll know what to look for and they'll come from an approved agency. They're all tested and safe." she added with a wink.
Timmy wondered what that meant but Rhonda seemed pleased.
"After you've been here a while I'll be happy to help you select them." Rhonda thanked her. Timmy was at least pleased the women seemed to get along well, and wondered how he would get along with an older and senior diplomat like Charles Huxley, who could have his pick of European posts and chose to stay here. One thing about this assignment that was already getting to him was the atmosphere of charged sexuality. They called it 'going native' in some circles, and he heard about the British diplomatic decadence in tropical foreign countries, and now, seeing the bulging genitals, gorgeous women, his penis tried to rise in his linen pants.
Walking stiffly out, kissing his wife goodbye, he presented his card to the doorman at the Club Royale, and was escorted into a room that could be in London. Dark wood paneling, Georgian prints on the walls. Warmer than usual but overhead palm leaf ceiling fans rotated slowly, moving the air around. A gorgeous Eurasian woman in a low cut dress displaying her fullsome wares, obviously a hostess because the colors were the same as the doorman, smiled at him.
"Hello sir, welcome to Club Royale."
"Thank you, I'm here to meet Charles Huxley."
"Sir Charles is expecting you, sir."
Tim wondered at that. 'Sir' Charles? He wasn't told that. That would mean it was also 'Lady' Octavia and he hoped he didn't offend anyone by not using the proper appellation, which for someone in the diplomatic service is a huge error. But he was distracted by the swaying gorgeous tight bottom of the hostess and then, rising in a shadowed booth was a slim smallish white haired dignified man who smiled and offered his hand.
"Hello Tim, welcome to Obeah."
"Thank you Sir Charles."
"Oh forget that, I don't even put that on my stationary any more. Sit down dear boy, have a pleasant trip?"
Settling into the booth, he followed Charles lead and had a gin fizz, hoping he didn't become an alcoholic as so many third world diplomats were. Sir Charles looked pretty good for someone in his fifties though. No red nose, no veins showing or bags under his eyes.
After a few sips, Charles and he were getting along, and he felt a little buzz already. Plus a gorgeous waitress in a revealing dress was dipping down to put the rounds of drinks on the table and he caught the flirtatious looks when he could tear himself from the spectacular cleavage. And then he noticed the same tatoo he had seen on Octavia, and he remembered then he saw it on the gorgeous hostess. But it was lost as they chatted and Charles gave him a geo-politic briefing in some depth. A pleasant and informative couple of hours passed quickly.
"Mmmm, maybe its the drink or the trip, but I'm beginning to think the waitress is teasing me a little."
"Oh, there's no maybe about it, dear boy. The girls love having some new young blood to stir up."
Tim chuckled in agreement. But then Sir Charles took a more serious tone.
"Anyway, dear boy, I know very well you regard me as your senior in both age and diplomatic status, and the fact is I have been assigned as your, shall we say mentor by the wire I got from Washington."
"Thank you, Sir Charles."
"But they didn't really brief you at home because well, you were not your masters' first choice any more than I was 20 years ago when I came here with Octavia. All the diplomats are selected from a pool by Obeah officials, on specifications from the royal ******."
"Well," Tim shifted uncomfortably, "it's not that uncommon for the host country to make preferences on ambassadors is it?"
"Not at all, but in Obeah they selected you and I as less important than our wives. They love good looking white women here if you haven't noticed, and your wife Octavia tells me yours is lovely." Tim smiled at the compliment.
"Thank you, I did notice the very fullsome white women in a country that is so very pitch black."
"Yes, no interbreeding at all. They are very conservative here. That would get a foreigner expelled. In fact, there are, well, many totems and taboos here that I have to tell you about, and I'm sure Octavia is taking that tack with your wife. That's why I'm meeting you here, in the only location in Obeah we actually sweep for bugs outside of the embassy."
"Uh oh," Tim smiled, noting the change of tone, "maybe I shouldn't have taken a few drinks before a briefing."
"Well," Charles smiled, "in many cases that would be true, but here, well, a few drinks are definitely in order." At that he signaled and the luscious waitress, a red head, came over with a bright smile.
"Another round is in order," Charles said, "and Charlene, this is my American colleague Tim."
"Pleased to meet you sir." she smiled. When she left, Charles gazed with appreciation at her backside as Tim did, smiling.
"Charlene has been working here for several months. Her husband works in our motor pool, from Liverpool he is. She's from Ireland."
"Beautiful girl."
"Oh yes, her lover found her this job." Tim was startled a little but he tried not to show it.
"Yes dear boy, I know you expected the famous 'going native and decadence' warning from me, but Obeah is subtly different. You know of course the ruling class doesn't allow anyone in the inner city and especially into any of the palaces unless they are approved, which means you and your wife are on probation."
"Oh yes, I heard something of that."
'I'm afraid the last couple your country sent out was sent back. This time they let the Obeah people make the selection and I hope for your career's sake it was a good one. Believe me I do want you, you both," he added, "to succeed here. This third world country is in a strategic location, and has mining interests of value besides. It's a very important post for a young man's career." Tim took the warning seriously because he knew it was make or break for his life's work.
"Now, Obeah, where to start? All right, hundreds of years ago, Obeah was nearly overthrown by Arabs. After that they enforced a strict eugenics. Only the strongest and most virile men bred. Primarily because the weak were either killed in childhood or in battles. But they never trusted foreigners. The only way foreigners stay in the inner city was to have spies all around them. You've heard about the prospective servants that no doubt Octavia is introducing your wife to at the moment." Timmy nodded and had a disturbing but also erotic image at the thought.
"Well, servants are one thing, but they have a warrior's code in Obeah regarding the property of an enemy, and to them all foreigners and especially whites are potential enemies.
Their solution, much like the Mongol invasion practice of killing all the men and breeding their women and moving on, is simple and effective and in keeping with the ruling class passion for white women. They insist all foreign women go black.."
Timmy gasped and choked on an olive in his drink.
"Are you all right dear boy? Want me to call the waitress?"
(Gasp.) "N-no, it's, um, okay. Went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine."
"Well, anyway," he continued, "the officials believe from their perspective of course, and we have to see things from that point of view after all, that a man who allows his wife to belong to another is under their control. A spy in the enemy camp so to speak."
"And the tattoo is the badge of admission?"
Charles nodded with approval. "Very good, my boy. That's one badge, others are not obvious. Your willingness to accept it, even welcome it."
"Um, welcome what?"
'Well, your wife going black. It has been described as institutional cuckoldry, in fact I phrased it so in a missive to London and I believe it caught on."
"Cuckold."
"In a way, you see sexual dominance and submission is Obeah's way of life. Very important and every business and diplomatic relationship is dependent on it. Genital size is a sign of power here. Ho ho," he chuckled, "in Obeah what counts up here," put a finger to his head, "is far less important than what counts down there. Or didn't you gather that from Octavia's purposeful trip here?"
Tim swallowed, "yes, I did get that impression."
Charles nodded, "but they do respect intelligence and they're not all fools at the palace either. They asked for and received all our psychological evaluations, for both you and your wife, just as they do with our people. You've heard the term alpha and beta males? Of course you have. Well, You've gathered that in the inner city all black males are alpha, and all whites, well, of course theyr'e beta in modern terms, especially we males. We are smaller, slender, less muscular and of course, less endowed. We would not be selected otherwise."
Tim blushed a little at that truth. "And Obeah knew this difference a long time ago. You can't have a stable society with people at the top and other people not content with it."
"B-but, um, you're saying that my wife, well...."
"It's up to you and your lovely wife, dear boy. I'm just here to tell you the score before you make a slip, like that last boy they sent here. Iv'e been asked to, shall we say, look after you two, Octavia and I."
"Um, I, well, I appreciate it, but, well...."
"I just want you to have all this background information before you even check in to your office or new home, because of ears everywhere of course."
"Oh, well, I appreciate the heads up, definitely."
"Professional courtesy, my boy. In any case its much easier for a beta male like, well, us, in Obeah. Nothing to prove. So much harder for alpha males. You know they don't really get along with each other. We lose many white men to them ourselves you know. Oh yes, at least 15% of the population is gay like anywhere else. A blonde beta boy from England would find himself in heaven here just like our wives."
"My wife. but.... Maybe I should call her and, well, see how she's doing."
Charles shrugged as he took out his cell phone.
The cell rang for a long time before she breathlessly answered.
"Honey, are you, um, okay?"
"What? Oooohhhh, yes Tim, it's... I can't talk right now."
She hung up. Charles arched an eyebrow. Tim's hardon grew in his pants and he tried to shift so it went straight.
"Anyway, my boy, where was I? Oh yes, there are occasional difficulties to overcome with a wife who goes black whether its in Obeah or America. They disapprove of regular sex, I mean regular sex between wife and husband of course, not black men."
"Who does?"
"Well, the ruling class, the customs dear boy are important."
"What?"
"But regular sex with a white boy will be a fruitless attempt anyway, after a white woman gets adjusted to big black reality, ho ho."
"OOoh,(groan)."
"And there will be a period where a couple has some awkwardness, the mandatory cuckold in chastity and sissy training bit of course."
"Chastity."
"Yes, there are official and religious taboo periods when white males must wear chastity belts, some purification ritual times. Doesn't usually last more than a few weeks."
"This is getting, well...."
"Do you have a problem wearing one? It's absolutely mandatory for some of the palace social occasions."
"B-but, well, how would they even know it?" he tried to think of a practical objection.
"Why we're all nude of course. All white males must be naked in the palace, to show we are not armed, another custom. Not all the time but definitely some times. The wives have more flexibility. String bikinis are in fashion at the moment."
"This is rather, well, disturbing if I may be frank."
"Well of course it is. I'm trying to get it all out so you're prepared."
"But, well, okay, I wore feathers and a robe for a function once in Polynesia, but a chastity belt? How do I even find one?"
"Oh your wife will get one for you, the right size and everything. She'll manage it, and, (chuckle) everything else of a sexual nature from now on. I mean that's how it works. They flip the woman, and then the wife trains the husband. It's how their system works and it's their system, ages old and it does seem to work I must admit." He took another sip from his glass and snapped his fingers, and Charlene came beaming over.
"Yes Sir Charles. Another round?"
'Yes dear, and can I ask you how long it took for your husband to adjust to a chastity belt?"
"Ralph?" She smiled, "he still hasn't adjusted but he wears it all the time now." "All the time? Really. I thought the last purification period was a month ago."
"Oh well, I leave him in it, but that's just us. Mustapha prefers him that way and (giggle) I do too."
Charles turned to Tim, "Well you see, everyone does it different. But Ralph doesn't attend official functions so its not quite the same."
"Mustapha?" Tim croaked, trying not to stare at her bountiful breasts that almost showed her thick nipples, which he could see were ringed now.
"That's my master now," she beamed. "He made me get this last year." She opened her mouth and he saw a tongue stud.
He sighed, "very nice." Charles nodded.
'That's right," he remarked, "Mustapha, I believe he was one of our servants once."
'Different one, same clan though." she said. Then she giggled, "same size if you know what I mean. He's in the kitchen now preparing a buffet for the French embassy."
"Really, would you ask him if he has a moment? I'd like Tim and him to meet."
"Of course, and for you sir, another round also?"
Tim nodded, needing a drink now and they both watched her shapely bottom sway off.
"Oooh, I'm thinking of all the white women Iv'e seen today, all gone black now?" Charles nodded and smiled.
"The hostess, Charlene, Octavia, my...."
"Your wife?" Charles added as he looked at his watch, "that would be rather quick I think, but if you haven't gotten a frantic phone call yet I think she'll work out fine, of course that's just an, well, educated hunch."
"Oh brother," he said, breaking character entirely.
"Dear boy, what's bothering you? Being a cuckold to a black owned wife is the best job for men like us. When you see what a black man has for equipment and see how well they know how to use it, you'd know you'd live a life in absolute misery trying to compete with them. And you have no idea how erotic it is to have your wife come to you at night wife directly from the bed of one of those black giants. For example at this moment I imagine my wife being pumped to ecstasy by a giant black phallus before he absolutely fills all her orifices with hot negro sperm, possibly with multiple partners. In fact I hope it is the case because it does sound pretty tasty you must admit."
Tim stared at him in shock but his cock was seeping precum in his pants.
"Well, it is I suppose an acquired taste but in Obeah its expected for a husband to clean his wife orally after her escapades. And the women do appreciate it. I always tell my colleagues in London that no matter who or what my wife does during the day she has her last cum with me, if only into my mouth. Ho HO. I think I'm getting a little *****." At that moment Charlene returned holding the elbow of a giant black man in only a tiny silk speedo, a red speedo which Tim remembered made him a 'trainer', a high caste member.
"Don't offer to shake hands." Charles whispered as he greeted the young grinning giant.
"It be Sir Charles."
'Hello Mustapha, you're the spitting image of the Mustapha who worked for us, except for the facial marks."
"Same clan, different tribe, it be common name in Obeah."
"Well anyway, this is Tim, new American, and she has a gorgeous wife you might meet some day."
He grinned, "Ah sho hope so, Mistah Tim, but ah don have time fo no mo women now that ah gots Charlene here. But ah pass the word to mah cousins yo be lookin aroun."
Tim tried to be polite, "um, th-thank you."
Charlene smiled and to Tim's shock put her small soft hand on the huge bulge in the silk sack.
'You should see his two brothers, sir, your wife would love them. Can I show them, master?" she asked submissively. He nodded with a proud smile.
"It's all right," Tim said, his throat dry, "I, ah, don't want to get you in trouble with management."
Mustapha looked puzzled for a moment then beamed, "No, donchu worry none. We on break now." Charlene smiled and knelt and undid the snaps of his speedo and Tim gasped. Half hard it was and almost a foot long. She displayed it with pride as it rose up. Becoming a rigid thick black veiny cock with a flared cock knob. It was huge.
"See that, sir? He's fucked me and I've sucked him off once today and look," she added, cupping the giant full testicles; "and his brothers are the same. Your wife will be very happy."
"Haw haw, they be happy too, but we let our younger cousins do ouah white women de first time to get em stretched a little."
Charles laughed appreciatively, "Well done lad." To Tim he said with a nod at the giant naked phallus at the edge of the table, "Obeah trainers are capable of multiple sex per day, and their sperm production is very impressive."
"Oh yes, it's a staple of white diet." Charlene said.
Tim laughed and she looked puzzled, "No, for real, it is." Tim gasped as she cupped one huge inflated testicle to show him, and then licked a pearly drop from his seeping knob.
Charles smiled, "I think Tim has his doubts, Charlene."
"Want us to prove it?" she smiled.
"Go ahead babe," Mustapha grinned, leaning back against a cupboard.
"No, I mean if it's...."
"It's okay," Charlene grinned with anticipation now, "we have to now anyway. Neither of us could go back to work and concentrate if we don't."
Tim watched as his cock strained as she kissed and licked his balls, and then up his cock. He could tell she loved putting on a show for white men. Just then Charles got a soft ring on his cell, and he answered, and Tim could tell it was his wife. He smiled, said a few words, and hung up and beamed over at Tim and gave him the thumbs up signal, but Tim didn't react, gazing at Charlene's full lips slide over the black seeping knob as Mustapha groaned, bracing himself on the cupboard as he spread his muscular thighs some more. Mustapha led her mouth go up and down his shaft a few times, and then abruptly turned around and bent forward, spreading his butt cheeks, as Charlene kissed each cheek reverently, and then licked up his sweaty butt crack as she expected to do, and by the way she gave his pink ring worshipful kisses, ached to do apparently. After several kisses, she turned and grinned at the red faces of Tim and Charles, and then gave Mustapha's crack another long lick and paused over the ring and began slipping her tongue in. She worked in long and deep but kept a grip as much as her small hand could do around the base of his huge cock to prevent a premature ejaculation. Mustapha shuddered, moaned, and turned back, and soon her lips were engulfed again, with her spread fingers pumping his muscular buttocks to push the cock into her mouth.
"Awyeah,awyeahhh." Mustapha held the back of her head, stiffened, and gasped, and Charlene's cheeks filled, she swallowed, filled and swallowed again, and finally, her cheeks filled, she removed her mouth still kneeling beside the table, sperm drops dribbling from the knob, picked up an empty clean glass on the table and opened her mouth and let a mouthful of white sperm drool onto it, filling the glass more than halfway. She smiled and put the glass back on the table and covered the knob again, gradually pumping her cheeks full again, and slipped off, and filled the glass to overflow, and then returned and orally cleaned and kissed every inch of Mustapha's groin, and finally, looked up, beaming with flushed face,
"Thank you master." she smiled, and bent and kissed each of his sandaled bare feet.
Mustapha used a napkin to wipe his sweaty face, grinned, and looked at his watch, and said he had to go and walked back. Charlene rose on shaky knees, indicated the glass full of sperm with drops on the table with pride.
"If I pumped him into a giant prophylactic it would be more than double."
"Um, th-thank you." Tim said.
"I can put it in a plastic bag to take with you and show your wife, or you can have it yourself." He realized she was asking him if he wanted to drink a glass full of negro sperm and that wasn't obviously an unusual assumption.
"Thank you, but, I might not be seeing my wife for a while."
'Oh well, anyway," she said, her breasts heaving now and her face flushed, as she lifted up her short skirt and took a napkin and dipped it in water and wiped up the copious cunt drool that ran down her sweet smooth thighs.
"I can't imagine doing this back in Dublin."
Tim smiled but his cock was rigid.
After she wiped herself off, she reached down for the glass.
"Well no point in wasting it then, but I can write down Mustapha's home phone number on a napkin if you want to get in touch with his brothers."
Realizing it would not be diplomatic to not accept he thanked her, and then she held up her finger to pause as she tilted the glass to her lips and smiled, drinking it slowly and savoring every drop.
"Oh, by the way," Charles smiled at him as she was sipping the negro sperm in front of them, "Dear boy, congratulations. That was Octavia calling to let me know she thinks Rhonda will work out fine."
"W-what do...." he paused, realizing that Octavia had a similar plan to Charles' in showing him the country's unique customs.
"She has a short film clip attached taken only a few minutes ago and I must say with some authority that the palace is going to absolutely love her. She is quite beautiful."
"What," he stammered as Charles turned the phone screen to him and played it, and instantly the sound of his wife groaning and moaning and sighing, the sound of giant black phallus stretching her as she came filled the room, adding to the scent of sex lust that was making him almost cum. Then he realized Charlene was leaning over to watch as well.
"Oh," Charlene smiled, "her first cum with a black man. Isn't it lovely? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to provide linen for you boys." She turned her shapely backside to him and bent over and opened a a cupboard door.
"W-what did you...?"
"My slip. When I see my master's cock my head just switches off. Iv'e got two bibs right here." Tim was embarassed she could see the staining lump in his pants as she leaned over to look down.
Charles nodded, his face also definitely flushed, "its a Club courtesy, my boy, neatness is important." he advised.
"I'm so sorry about your pants sir, I really should have put these on."
"A bib?"
"A genital bib." She shocked him by reaching down and unzipping his straining pants. "I'm not supposed to touch a white penis but I'm going to do it anyway." she said merrily, and soon, his erect drooling penis and testicles were exposed, and the electricity of her touch got him even harder, and then she tied a tight bib around it. Then she did the same thing to Sir Charles.
After that she stood right there with her hands behind her, her beautiful breasts arching out.
"Are you, excuse me, but..." Tim asked.
"It's all right, I don't mind waiting. I like to see white sissies have to masturbate."
Charles kidded her, "But you'd prefer it if we were in chastity belts and then teased us."
"Oh yes," she smiled, nodding, "its fun but this is nice too. A new sissy watching his wife cumming with a black man."
Charles put it on speaker again, and put the phone on the table so they could all see. As soon as the tape began playing Tim couldn't control himself as his hand moved to his cock right under the mocking eyes of Charlene.
"Come now, sir, be a good little sissy and masturbate. I have other tables to serve. (giggle)."
"Oohhhhh,' he moaned as his wife squealed again, and he saw the giant phallus pull out of her stretched pussy, flooding it with sperm, hearing her groan and sigh, and Octavia's distinctive giggle in the background.
"She'll have some creampie for you when you get back home, dear boy. As will my wife."
"Oh no," he stroked harder
"But it will be a week before she gets tattooed, she has to get resized completely everywhere of course."
(OOOHHHH)
"Yes sir," Charlene nodded, "but she'll make it, look how she cums with black cock now. She'll be loving it here if she isn't now."
"Aahhhhhh." he sprayed all over his bib, as Charlene giggled, watching him with amusement. After that she undid the snaps and picked it up gingerly by the edges like a wet sack and handed him a wet wipe to clean himself with as he half sobbed with shame, his wife's moans still ringing in his ears. Charlene leaned over Charles as his hand was also busy.
"Come on, old sissy, let's give me a little spurtie now, there's a good boy," she patted him on his thinning hair as he gasped, and then sighed, as she removed his bib also.
"There you go gentlemen," she laughed, "let me know if you need anything else," as she deliberately swished her shapely bottom off.
And then as they got to some shops, he saw more whites, and while the males seemed very average, the women were often gorgeous, and wore quite little for a supposedly conservative country. Rhonda mentioned it.
"Yes, to live in the forbidden part of the city you have to be approved, especially for foreigners. That comes with a certain degree of latitude for dress and behavior."
"So that includes us?"
"I'm afraid not, dear, all foreigners and especially diplomats are on a probation process. They are quite suspicious of whites here and more so of diplomats and their families."
Rhonda was surprised at that.
"Nobody mentioned that when we left Washington."
'Well, Obeah has to be seen first hand, honey. But if you have the right attitude you'll make out fine, trust me."
The first thing they both noticed was how as they rode into the walled capital city to his diplomatic compound, was how big the males were, and that wasn't all. Of course it was hot and Africa, but they wore very skimpy loin cloths. But what made him blush right away was the sacks they carried in them. Because Rhonda gaped at the first one she saw, and he knew she was trying not to mention it, a sensitive point with them, since he was not a big man. Not big in size in any way. And that was another thing, all the white males were of average or smaller size.
But he was briefed pretty skimpily for some reason before the trip, saying that would be handled in the field. And after they saw their own house with black male servants, also wearing tiny loin cloths over bulging genital sacs, his wife sighing and wide eyed but being a good diplomatic wife saying nothing, pretending to ignore them, he said he had a meeting with his mentor in the British consulate at a private club downtown. In fact he said the diplomat's wife would be here soon to welcome Rhonda or at least that's what his schedule said.
As he took a quick shower while she talked to the staff members as they introduced themselves, when he got out a very beautiful blonde woman of around 40 was in their salon.
"Dear," Rhonda smiled, "I'd like you to meet Octavia Huxley, her husband is with the British service."
"I know, I'm meeting him downtown at a club.
Octavia smiled as they shook hands.
"I'm so pleased America sent a young couple for a change. Capital life can be exhausting, although very rewarding and I could use the help. The Club Royale, we can drive by it."
"Octavia says she's been here for 15 years."
"Wow, isn't that unusual for your service to stay at a post that long? They like to rotate us around."
"True, but for many reasons the staff opts to stay in Obeah. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else now and my ******** is in the local high school."
"Oh, well, we have no kids yet." Rhonda explained. 'Well, who knows? In any case I'm taking Rhonda around the town so we can drop you off at the Club."
The short ride in the old coach car was interesting, but the main thing Octavia pointed out was the old Slave Quarters. That was one of the reasons America had an embassy here in the 19th century, to ransom out kidnapped citizens who were traded here by arab slavers.
"Look dear, those are the descendants of the slave trainers in their traditional headgear."
Octavia gaped, bigger and blacker and more hung than anything they had seen getting there and that was really saying something. They wore skimpy bright red silk thongs, silver armbands and bright silver rings in their ears.
"Oohhhh." she sighed. "Just look at that one."
"That one is Mahmoud, chief trainer."
"When you say trainer, Octavia, I thought you meant 'trader.'
"No, these have a high place in the rigid social structure here. They've trained the slaves they buy from Arabs for a thousand or more years."
"It seems so barbaric." Rhonda said.
"Different cultures, darling. Can't be judgmental in their country."
"But, still, don't they torture them? I don't see any whips or anything."
Octavia smiled, "in a way they do, dear, but they don't need whips. They have all they need to train a white woman dear, obviously." She and Rhonda smiled, Rhonda blushed a little and broke out into laughter, joined by Octavia, while Timmy also blushed and swallowed, smiling in agreement.
"I think you're right, Octavia." she laughed.
"That's why it's so difficult to bring a woman back from Obeah. They many times insist on staying even if we give them a plane ticket."
"They still do it, slave trade I mean?" Rhonda and Timmy were equally surprised.
'Well, Charles will tell you more, but under the surface, Obeah is very much like it was a thousand years ago. You have to adapt to what they say in the news, and well," nodding at giant grinning black man holding his huge organ in his hands bulging out his loincloth and giving himself a hardon for their benefit. Looking at the spectacular Octavia in her low cut blouse he saw something very odd for a diplomat's wife. A small black tattoo on her left breast. Kind of like a Queen of Spades tattoo he thought, and he knew Rhonda must have noticed but of course neither would mention it.
"What's he doing?"
"Him, oh ignore him but always smile politely. He's just looking for a servant's job."
"And that's how he gets it?"
"Well, he sees two white women in the car, but of course you never hire off the street. That would not only be dangerous but also an insult to the ruling class here. No, your house has a temporary service staff until you choose your own."
"They seemed nice."
"Well, they're all spies of course."
"Spies."
"Of course, that's the one thing Obeah shares with every other country, you can expect spies among your servants."
Rhonda asked Timmy if that was true and he nodded.
"But, when it comes time to choose your own you'll know what to look for and they'll come from an approved agency. They're all tested and safe." she added with a wink.
Timmy wondered what that meant but Rhonda seemed pleased.
"After you've been here a while I'll be happy to help you select them." Rhonda thanked her. Timmy was at least pleased the women seemed to get along well, and wondered how he would get along with an older and senior diplomat like Charles Huxley, who could have his pick of European posts and chose to stay here. One thing about this assignment that was already getting to him was the atmosphere of charged sexuality. They called it 'going native' in some circles, and he heard about the British diplomatic decadence in tropical foreign countries, and now, seeing the bulging genitals, gorgeous women, his penis tried to rise in his linen pants.
Walking stiffly out, kissing his wife goodbye, he presented his card to the doorman at the Club Royale, and was escorted into a room that could be in London. Dark wood paneling, Georgian prints on the walls. Warmer than usual but overhead palm leaf ceiling fans rotated slowly, moving the air around. A gorgeous Eurasian woman in a low cut dress displaying her fullsome wares, obviously a hostess because the colors were the same as the doorman, smiled at him.
"Hello sir, welcome to Club Royale."
"Thank you, I'm here to meet Charles Huxley."
"Sir Charles is expecting you, sir."
Tim wondered at that. 'Sir' Charles? He wasn't told that. That would mean it was also 'Lady' Octavia and he hoped he didn't offend anyone by not using the proper appellation, which for someone in the diplomatic service is a huge error. But he was distracted by the swaying gorgeous tight bottom of the hostess and then, rising in a shadowed booth was a slim smallish white haired dignified man who smiled and offered his hand.
"Hello Tim, welcome to Obeah."
"Thank you Sir Charles."
"Oh forget that, I don't even put that on my stationary any more. Sit down dear boy, have a pleasant trip?"
Settling into the booth, he followed Charles lead and had a gin fizz, hoping he didn't become an alcoholic as so many third world diplomats were. Sir Charles looked pretty good for someone in his fifties though. No red nose, no veins showing or bags under his eyes.
After a few sips, Charles and he were getting along, and he felt a little buzz already. Plus a gorgeous waitress in a revealing dress was dipping down to put the rounds of drinks on the table and he caught the flirtatious looks when he could tear himself from the spectacular cleavage. And then he noticed the same tatoo he had seen on Octavia, and he remembered then he saw it on the gorgeous hostess. But it was lost as they chatted and Charles gave him a geo-politic briefing in some depth. A pleasant and informative couple of hours passed quickly.
"Mmmm, maybe its the drink or the trip, but I'm beginning to think the waitress is teasing me a little."
"Oh, there's no maybe about it, dear boy. The girls love having some new young blood to stir up."
Tim chuckled in agreement. But then Sir Charles took a more serious tone.
"Anyway, dear boy, I know very well you regard me as your senior in both age and diplomatic status, and the fact is I have been assigned as your, shall we say mentor by the wire I got from Washington."
"Thank you, Sir Charles."
"But they didn't really brief you at home because well, you were not your masters' first choice any more than I was 20 years ago when I came here with Octavia. All the diplomats are selected from a pool by Obeah officials, on specifications from the royal ******."
"Well," Tim shifted uncomfortably, "it's not that uncommon for the host country to make preferences on ambassadors is it?"
"Not at all, but in Obeah they selected you and I as less important than our wives. They love good looking white women here if you haven't noticed, and your wife Octavia tells me yours is lovely." Tim smiled at the compliment.
"Thank you, I did notice the very fullsome white women in a country that is so very pitch black."
"Yes, no interbreeding at all. They are very conservative here. That would get a foreigner expelled. In fact, there are, well, many totems and taboos here that I have to tell you about, and I'm sure Octavia is taking that tack with your wife. That's why I'm meeting you here, in the only location in Obeah we actually sweep for bugs outside of the embassy."
"Uh oh," Tim smiled, noting the change of tone, "maybe I shouldn't have taken a few drinks before a briefing."
"Well," Charles smiled, "in many cases that would be true, but here, well, a few drinks are definitely in order." At that he signaled and the luscious waitress, a red head, came over with a bright smile.
"Another round is in order," Charles said, "and Charlene, this is my American colleague Tim."
"Pleased to meet you sir." she smiled. When she left, Charles gazed with appreciation at her backside as Tim did, smiling.
"Charlene has been working here for several months. Her husband works in our motor pool, from Liverpool he is. She's from Ireland."
"Beautiful girl."
"Oh yes, her lover found her this job." Tim was startled a little but he tried not to show it.
"Yes dear boy, I know you expected the famous 'going native and decadence' warning from me, but Obeah is subtly different. You know of course the ruling class doesn't allow anyone in the inner city and especially into any of the palaces unless they are approved, which means you and your wife are on probation."
"Oh yes, I heard something of that."
'I'm afraid the last couple your country sent out was sent back. This time they let the Obeah people make the selection and I hope for your career's sake it was a good one. Believe me I do want you, you both," he added, "to succeed here. This third world country is in a strategic location, and has mining interests of value besides. It's a very important post for a young man's career." Tim took the warning seriously because he knew it was make or break for his life's work.
"Now, Obeah, where to start? All right, hundreds of years ago, Obeah was nearly overthrown by Arabs. After that they enforced a strict eugenics. Only the strongest and most virile men bred. Primarily because the weak were either killed in childhood or in battles. But they never trusted foreigners. The only way foreigners stay in the inner city was to have spies all around them. You've heard about the prospective servants that no doubt Octavia is introducing your wife to at the moment." Timmy nodded and had a disturbing but also erotic image at the thought.
"Well, servants are one thing, but they have a warrior's code in Obeah regarding the property of an enemy, and to them all foreigners and especially whites are potential enemies.
Their solution, much like the Mongol invasion practice of killing all the men and breeding their women and moving on, is simple and effective and in keeping with the ruling class passion for white women. They insist all foreign women go black.."
Timmy gasped and choked on an olive in his drink.
"Are you all right dear boy? Want me to call the waitress?"
(Gasp.) "N-no, it's, um, okay. Went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine."
"Well, anyway," he continued, "the officials believe from their perspective of course, and we have to see things from that point of view after all, that a man who allows his wife to belong to another is under their control. A spy in the enemy camp so to speak."
"And the tattoo is the badge of admission?"
Charles nodded with approval. "Very good, my boy. That's one badge, others are not obvious. Your willingness to accept it, even welcome it."
"Um, welcome what?"
'Well, your wife going black. It has been described as institutional cuckoldry, in fact I phrased it so in a missive to London and I believe it caught on."
"Cuckold."
"In a way, you see sexual dominance and submission is Obeah's way of life. Very important and every business and diplomatic relationship is dependent on it. Genital size is a sign of power here. Ho ho," he chuckled, "in Obeah what counts up here," put a finger to his head, "is far less important than what counts down there. Or didn't you gather that from Octavia's purposeful trip here?"
Tim swallowed, "yes, I did get that impression."
Charles nodded, "but they do respect intelligence and they're not all fools at the palace either. They asked for and received all our psychological evaluations, for both you and your wife, just as they do with our people. You've heard the term alpha and beta males? Of course you have. Well, You've gathered that in the inner city all black males are alpha, and all whites, well, of course theyr'e beta in modern terms, especially we males. We are smaller, slender, less muscular and of course, less endowed. We would not be selected otherwise."
Tim blushed a little at that truth. "And Obeah knew this difference a long time ago. You can't have a stable society with people at the top and other people not content with it."
"B-but, um, you're saying that my wife, well...."
"It's up to you and your lovely wife, dear boy. I'm just here to tell you the score before you make a slip, like that last boy they sent here. Iv'e been asked to, shall we say, look after you two, Octavia and I."
"Um, I, well, I appreciate it, but, well...."
"I just want you to have all this background information before you even check in to your office or new home, because of ears everywhere of course."
"Oh, well, I appreciate the heads up, definitely."
"Professional courtesy, my boy. In any case its much easier for a beta male like, well, us, in Obeah. Nothing to prove. So much harder for alpha males. You know they don't really get along with each other. We lose many white men to them ourselves you know. Oh yes, at least 15% of the population is gay like anywhere else. A blonde beta boy from England would find himself in heaven here just like our wives."
"My wife. but.... Maybe I should call her and, well, see how she's doing."
Charles shrugged as he took out his cell phone.
The cell rang for a long time before she breathlessly answered.
"Honey, are you, um, okay?"
"What? Oooohhhh, yes Tim, it's... I can't talk right now."
She hung up. Charles arched an eyebrow. Tim's hardon grew in his pants and he tried to shift so it went straight.
"Anyway, my boy, where was I? Oh yes, there are occasional difficulties to overcome with a wife who goes black whether its in Obeah or America. They disapprove of regular sex, I mean regular sex between wife and husband of course, not black men."
"Who does?"
"Well, the ruling class, the customs dear boy are important."
"What?"
"But regular sex with a white boy will be a fruitless attempt anyway, after a white woman gets adjusted to big black reality, ho ho."
"OOoh,(groan)."
"And there will be a period where a couple has some awkwardness, the mandatory cuckold in chastity and sissy training bit of course."
"Chastity."
"Yes, there are official and religious taboo periods when white males must wear chastity belts, some purification ritual times. Doesn't usually last more than a few weeks."
"This is getting, well...."
"Do you have a problem wearing one? It's absolutely mandatory for some of the palace social occasions."
"B-but, well, how would they even know it?" he tried to think of a practical objection.
"Why we're all nude of course. All white males must be naked in the palace, to show we are not armed, another custom. Not all the time but definitely some times. The wives have more flexibility. String bikinis are in fashion at the moment."
"This is rather, well, disturbing if I may be frank."
"Well of course it is. I'm trying to get it all out so you're prepared."
"But, well, okay, I wore feathers and a robe for a function once in Polynesia, but a chastity belt? How do I even find one?"
"Oh your wife will get one for you, the right size and everything. She'll manage it, and, (chuckle) everything else of a sexual nature from now on. I mean that's how it works. They flip the woman, and then the wife trains the husband. It's how their system works and it's their system, ages old and it does seem to work I must admit." He took another sip from his glass and snapped his fingers, and Charlene came beaming over.
"Yes Sir Charles. Another round?"
'Yes dear, and can I ask you how long it took for your husband to adjust to a chastity belt?"
"Ralph?" She smiled, "he still hasn't adjusted but he wears it all the time now." "All the time? Really. I thought the last purification period was a month ago."
"Oh well, I leave him in it, but that's just us. Mustapha prefers him that way and (giggle) I do too."
Charles turned to Tim, "Well you see, everyone does it different. But Ralph doesn't attend official functions so its not quite the same."
"Mustapha?" Tim croaked, trying not to stare at her bountiful breasts that almost showed her thick nipples, which he could see were ringed now.
"That's my master now," she beamed. "He made me get this last year." She opened her mouth and he saw a tongue stud.
He sighed, "very nice." Charles nodded.
'That's right," he remarked, "Mustapha, I believe he was one of our servants once."
'Different one, same clan though." she said. Then she giggled, "same size if you know what I mean. He's in the kitchen now preparing a buffet for the French embassy."
"Really, would you ask him if he has a moment? I'd like Tim and him to meet."
"Of course, and for you sir, another round also?"
Tim nodded, needing a drink now and they both watched her shapely bottom sway off.
"Oooh, I'm thinking of all the white women Iv'e seen today, all gone black now?" Charles nodded and smiled.
"The hostess, Charlene, Octavia, my...."
"Your wife?" Charles added as he looked at his watch, "that would be rather quick I think, but if you haven't gotten a frantic phone call yet I think she'll work out fine, of course that's just an, well, educated hunch."
"Oh brother," he said, breaking character entirely.
"Dear boy, what's bothering you? Being a cuckold to a black owned wife is the best job for men like us. When you see what a black man has for equipment and see how well they know how to use it, you'd know you'd live a life in absolute misery trying to compete with them. And you have no idea how erotic it is to have your wife come to you at night wife directly from the bed of one of those black giants. For example at this moment I imagine my wife being pumped to ecstasy by a giant black phallus before he absolutely fills all her orifices with hot negro sperm, possibly with multiple partners. In fact I hope it is the case because it does sound pretty tasty you must admit."
Tim stared at him in shock but his cock was seeping precum in his pants.
"Well, it is I suppose an acquired taste but in Obeah its expected for a husband to clean his wife orally after her escapades. And the women do appreciate it. I always tell my colleagues in London that no matter who or what my wife does during the day she has her last cum with me, if only into my mouth. Ho HO. I think I'm getting a little *****." At that moment Charlene returned holding the elbow of a giant black man in only a tiny silk speedo, a red speedo which Tim remembered made him a 'trainer', a high caste member.
"Don't offer to shake hands." Charles whispered as he greeted the young grinning giant.
"It be Sir Charles."
'Hello Mustapha, you're the spitting image of the Mustapha who worked for us, except for the facial marks."
"Same clan, different tribe, it be common name in Obeah."
"Well anyway, this is Tim, new American, and she has a gorgeous wife you might meet some day."
He grinned, "Ah sho hope so, Mistah Tim, but ah don have time fo no mo women now that ah gots Charlene here. But ah pass the word to mah cousins yo be lookin aroun."
Tim tried to be polite, "um, th-thank you."
Charlene smiled and to Tim's shock put her small soft hand on the huge bulge in the silk sack.
'You should see his two brothers, sir, your wife would love them. Can I show them, master?" she asked submissively. He nodded with a proud smile.
"It's all right," Tim said, his throat dry, "I, ah, don't want to get you in trouble with management."
Mustapha looked puzzled for a moment then beamed, "No, donchu worry none. We on break now." Charlene smiled and knelt and undid the snaps of his speedo and Tim gasped. Half hard it was and almost a foot long. She displayed it with pride as it rose up. Becoming a rigid thick black veiny cock with a flared cock knob. It was huge.
"See that, sir? He's fucked me and I've sucked him off once today and look," she added, cupping the giant full testicles; "and his brothers are the same. Your wife will be very happy."
"Haw haw, they be happy too, but we let our younger cousins do ouah white women de first time to get em stretched a little."
Charles laughed appreciatively, "Well done lad." To Tim he said with a nod at the giant naked phallus at the edge of the table, "Obeah trainers are capable of multiple sex per day, and their sperm production is very impressive."
"Oh yes, it's a staple of white diet." Charlene said.
Tim laughed and she looked puzzled, "No, for real, it is." Tim gasped as she cupped one huge inflated testicle to show him, and then licked a pearly drop from his seeping knob.
Charles smiled, "I think Tim has his doubts, Charlene."
"Want us to prove it?" she smiled.
"Go ahead babe," Mustapha grinned, leaning back against a cupboard.
"No, I mean if it's...."
"It's okay," Charlene grinned with anticipation now, "we have to now anyway. Neither of us could go back to work and concentrate if we don't."
Tim watched as his cock strained as she kissed and licked his balls, and then up his cock. He could tell she loved putting on a show for white men. Just then Charles got a soft ring on his cell, and he answered, and Tim could tell it was his wife. He smiled, said a few words, and hung up and beamed over at Tim and gave him the thumbs up signal, but Tim didn't react, gazing at Charlene's full lips slide over the black seeping knob as Mustapha groaned, bracing himself on the cupboard as he spread his muscular thighs some more. Mustapha led her mouth go up and down his shaft a few times, and then abruptly turned around and bent forward, spreading his butt cheeks, as Charlene kissed each cheek reverently, and then licked up his sweaty butt crack as she expected to do, and by the way she gave his pink ring worshipful kisses, ached to do apparently. After several kisses, she turned and grinned at the red faces of Tim and Charles, and then gave Mustapha's crack another long lick and paused over the ring and began slipping her tongue in. She worked in long and deep but kept a grip as much as her small hand could do around the base of his huge cock to prevent a premature ejaculation. Mustapha shuddered, moaned, and turned back, and soon her lips were engulfed again, with her spread fingers pumping his muscular buttocks to push the cock into her mouth.
"Awyeah,awyeahhh." Mustapha held the back of her head, stiffened, and gasped, and Charlene's cheeks filled, she swallowed, filled and swallowed again, and finally, her cheeks filled, she removed her mouth still kneeling beside the table, sperm drops dribbling from the knob, picked up an empty clean glass on the table and opened her mouth and let a mouthful of white sperm drool onto it, filling the glass more than halfway. She smiled and put the glass back on the table and covered the knob again, gradually pumping her cheeks full again, and slipped off, and filled the glass to overflow, and then returned and orally cleaned and kissed every inch of Mustapha's groin, and finally, looked up, beaming with flushed face,
"Thank you master." she smiled, and bent and kissed each of his sandaled bare feet.
Mustapha used a napkin to wipe his sweaty face, grinned, and looked at his watch, and said he had to go and walked back. Charlene rose on shaky knees, indicated the glass full of sperm with drops on the table with pride.
"If I pumped him into a giant prophylactic it would be more than double."
"Um, th-thank you." Tim said.
"I can put it in a plastic bag to take with you and show your wife, or you can have it yourself." He realized she was asking him if he wanted to drink a glass full of negro sperm and that wasn't obviously an unusual assumption.
"Thank you, but, I might not be seeing my wife for a while."
'Oh well, anyway," she said, her breasts heaving now and her face flushed, as she lifted up her short skirt and took a napkin and dipped it in water and wiped up the copious cunt drool that ran down her sweet smooth thighs.
"I can't imagine doing this back in Dublin."
Tim smiled but his cock was rigid.
After she wiped herself off, she reached down for the glass.
"Well no point in wasting it then, but I can write down Mustapha's home phone number on a napkin if you want to get in touch with his brothers."
Realizing it would not be diplomatic to not accept he thanked her, and then she held up her finger to pause as she tilted the glass to her lips and smiled, drinking it slowly and savoring every drop.
"Oh, by the way," Charles smiled at him as she was sipping the negro sperm in front of them, "Dear boy, congratulations. That was Octavia calling to let me know she thinks Rhonda will work out fine."
"W-what do...." he paused, realizing that Octavia had a similar plan to Charles' in showing him the country's unique customs.
"She has a short film clip attached taken only a few minutes ago and I must say with some authority that the palace is going to absolutely love her. She is quite beautiful."
"What," he stammered as Charles turned the phone screen to him and played it, and instantly the sound of his wife groaning and moaning and sighing, the sound of giant black phallus stretching her as she came filled the room, adding to the scent of sex lust that was making him almost cum. Then he realized Charlene was leaning over to watch as well.
"Oh," Charlene smiled, "her first cum with a black man. Isn't it lovely? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to provide linen for you boys." She turned her shapely backside to him and bent over and opened a a cupboard door.
"W-what did you...?"
"My slip. When I see my master's cock my head just switches off. Iv'e got two bibs right here." Tim was embarassed she could see the staining lump in his pants as she leaned over to look down.
Charles nodded, his face also definitely flushed, "its a Club courtesy, my boy, neatness is important." he advised.
"I'm so sorry about your pants sir, I really should have put these on."
"A bib?"
"A genital bib." She shocked him by reaching down and unzipping his straining pants. "I'm not supposed to touch a white penis but I'm going to do it anyway." she said merrily, and soon, his erect drooling penis and testicles were exposed, and the electricity of her touch got him even harder, and then she tied a tight bib around it. Then she did the same thing to Sir Charles.
After that she stood right there with her hands behind her, her beautiful breasts arching out.
"Are you, excuse me, but..." Tim asked.
"It's all right, I don't mind waiting. I like to see white sissies have to masturbate."
Charles kidded her, "But you'd prefer it if we were in chastity belts and then teased us."
"Oh yes," she smiled, nodding, "its fun but this is nice too. A new sissy watching his wife cumming with a black man."
Charles put it on speaker again, and put the phone on the table so they could all see. As soon as the tape began playing Tim couldn't control himself as his hand moved to his cock right under the mocking eyes of Charlene.
"Come now, sir, be a good little sissy and masturbate. I have other tables to serve. (giggle)."
"Oohhhhh,' he moaned as his wife squealed again, and he saw the giant phallus pull out of her stretched pussy, flooding it with sperm, hearing her groan and sigh, and Octavia's distinctive giggle in the background.
"She'll have some creampie for you when you get back home, dear boy. As will my wife."
"Oh no," he stroked harder
"But it will be a week before she gets tattooed, she has to get resized completely everywhere of course."
(OOOHHHH)
"Yes sir," Charlene nodded, "but she'll make it, look how she cums with black cock now. She'll be loving it here if she isn't now."
"Aahhhhhh." he sprayed all over his bib, as Charlene giggled, watching him with amusement. After that she undid the snaps and picked it up gingerly by the edges like a wet sack and handed him a wet wipe to clean himself with as he half sobbed with shame, his wife's moans still ringing in his ears. Charlene leaned over Charles as his hand was also busy.
"Come on, old sissy, let's give me a little spurtie now, there's a good boy," she patted him on his thinning hair as he gasped, and then sighed, as she removed his bib also.
"There you go gentlemen," she laughed, "let me know if you need anything else," as she deliberately swished her shapely bottom off.
