Angel Breaks Her Vows

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ass

Angel sat at her dressing table and gazed into the mirror. She was preparing herself for tonight’s visit to Igwe Orizu and his philosophy circle. Philosophy, however, was not on her mind. Even now she could feel her body tingling in anticipation, and guilt was on the forefront of her mind.

She was safely and happily married. Her husband loved her, and she loved him. They had three fun filled children, and she should be setting an example to them.

Instead all she could think about was Igwe’s cock and how good it had felt inside her! A black man! Her father would have a fit if he knew. His inbuilt racism would be appalled if he knew his beloved daughter was sitting here mooning over a black cock and the pleasure it was capable of giving her.

But she was married. She shouldn’t be thinking like this.

Movement in the garden caught her eye. A pair of bee-eaters seemed to be competing with a pair of sunbirds to enjoy one of the gardens many water filled stone bird-baths.

She paused for a moment to watch the fluttering birds swoop and swirl in the bright sunlight. Admiring their bright cheerful plumage. Then as if reminded she turned back to the mirror. She had her own plumage to prepare.

She looked at herself in the mirror. A beautiful woman met her gaze and stared back to her. Was she lucky to be beautiful, or cursed? She did not need many touch’s to enhance her perfection. Knowing she was beautiful, and men desired her had never provided her with any confidence or security.

Differentiating between who loved her, and who lusted after her had been a confusing period in her younger years and she had been happy to attach herself to Mark. Mark was rock solid, dependable and adored her, qualities that reminded her of her father. It had been easy to cling on to Mark.

She loved him. Which made the behaviour of her body unaccountable. She sat before her mirror looking into her calm eyes. Eyes that did not reflect the treacherous nature of her body, which was tingling in anticipation of what might happen after the philosophy circle finished, but before her husband arrived to take her home.

What might happen when Igwe Orizu turned his attention on her alone and took hold of her? A spasm rippled through her pussy as she sat there, and she bit her lip. A spasm of guilt overwhelmed at her body’s treacherous reaction.

She loved Mark, but Igwe was going to take hold of her tonight and when he did she would melt.

The answer was not to go.

To not see him again.

Her marriage was important. Her children were important. Her faith in her god was important, and god’s laws stated that you did not break your marriage vows.

Angel nibbled her lip.

The idea of not going was a torment….a torment that tore her soul, writhed her heart, and filled her with fear.

She would go, she wanted to go, she wanted…and she hung her head in her hands. She was confused. What did she want?

She knew what Igwe wanted. He was despite all his remarkable charm, intellect, and wealth, just like all the other black men in Africa. He wanted to put his hands on her white curvy body, to touch and caress, to strip away her clothes and mount her in a frenzy of lust and desire.

She cursed. She had just soaked her panties! She would have to change them before she left.

To allow him to do so would be to break her marriage vows! If she went to his villa tonight she would not be able to resist him. She knew that. She also new that the thought of not going tonight was a torment she could not bear.

The first time had been an accident. The second time she had resisted him, and he had taken her anyway. To see him again, would have only one result. She could not kid herself that if she went to him again then the third time would be anything other than a willing submission. A conscious a deliberate betrayal of her husband and the vows she made before God all those years before.

Those vows still counted. They still meant something.

But it was black! A tremor ran through her. The local white community ostracised white women who took African lovers. They were still traumatised by the guerrilla war. By fear of what the new Black African government might do.

They had been right to fear. Certain Africans were the new elite. With political power, and legislative power, they were increasing their control of the previously white dominated economy. There was now a growing core of extremely rich African businessman and Igwe was one of those.

These men had seized the country. Gained political power, then economic power. All taken from an aggrieved white community. They were now taking the next step. They had set their sights on taking the white women away from the remaining white men.

Not that Angela thought along those lines,

Angel had no great ties to the local white community. She was English, and the wife of a professional Englishman. They had been in Zimbabwe six months. In six months she had seen a new world.

A world zenci porno were white women broke with convention. In which they took African men as lovers.

She had not seen Igwe’s cock. She had not touched it. She had felt it push up inside her. She had felt its hot length pulse and throb inside her. Had been held in place while it thrust and surged up and down inside her. Had felt that extra-ordinary experience of Igwe’s orgasm and that shooting hot rush sperm fountain up inside her. Something she had not particularly experienced with Mark.

She wanted to experience that cock again. It was big and thick and long and she wanted it! She wanted to be stretched and pummeled. She wanted to be fucked by him!

The bedroom door opened and Mark walked in.

‘Hi honey. Sorry I’m late.’

Flustered Angel flapped, but Mark did not notice. Throwing his suitcase down by the door, he went through to the en-suite bathroom.

Angel gathered her thought and looked back into the mirror, a few touches were all that was needed.

When Mark re-appears Angel was standing and facing him. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Wow, honey, you look absolutely gorgeous.”

A pang of doubt and fear overwhelmed Angel. After all these years her husband could still confound her. The love and admiration in his voice was so heartfelt. How could she do this to him?

She couldn’t!

She was resolved.

All her musing and pondering evaporated in an intense feeling of love for her husband. She could feel the warmth of his heart, and her lust for Igwe evaporated in a warm glow.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready?” she looked confused for a moment.

“I am sorry I am late, but I appreciate you will be late for your philosophy session if we don’t get a move on.”

“Oh, well…I am thinking of not going.”

“Oh nonsense, honey, these last few sessions have done you the world of good.”

“Well perhaps they have been enough.”

“You know what Margaret said.” Margaret had been the clinical psychologist that Angel had seen after her relapse. “There will be no sudden cures, you need regularity, a pattern in your life. These philosophy sessions are part of the pattern of stability and you get to meet all the other women. I don’t mind and you need to have more social contacts.”

“Well yes, but perhaps tonight we could have a quiet night at home.”

” Honey, we have quiet nights at home most nights. Tonight is your philosophy meeting and we both know that you need to keep this up. Now get your things and we will be off.”

“Mark….” Angela’s voice trailed off as her husband rushed off up the corridor.

God! He did not know what he was doing! If she went to the philosophy session tonight she would let Igwe fuck her. She would not be strong enough to resist the dominant African male.

She followed Mark up the corridor and into the kitchen where he was helping himself to a cold fruit juice from the fridge.

“I really not sure about tonight. I think I should stay at home.”

“Angel, honey, I love you, and we both know how you have perked up and been so much more cheerful. The last two times you came home positively glowing.”

Angel stared at her husband. The last two times I came home thoroughly fucked you stupid man! She suppressed the retort. She did not want to hurt him. Her hesitation was her undoing. Mark not realising her dark thoughts, took her hand and led her out to the car.

He seemed to be oblivious to the turmoil in her heart. Would her husband be in such a rush to get to Igwe’s mansion, if he knew she had taken her panties off and not replaced them? Did he realise that under her blouse she wore no bra?

Would he turn back if she told him that unless he turned back Igwe would fuck her tonight?

She looked across at her husband, who was concentrating on the bends in the road. Why did life end up so confusing? She loved him but he was driving her to meet a black man who would use her sexually and she wanted that, and yet she didn’t!

At Igwe’s villa she turned to Mark, as he helped her out of the car. The cars of some the other attending women were already there.

“I’ll pick you up at 9.30 then,” Mark looked at her questioningly.

“Can you make it 10.30 tonight. It’s going to be a longer session. That was one of the reasons I was unsure about coming tonight.”

Mark looked surprised, but quickly nodded.

He watched as Angel turned and strode for the villa.

Her thoughts were otherwise. The philosophy session finished at its usual time of 8.30. If what was going to happen tonight was fated to happen she wanted the time to make love properly.

Her hips swung, her shapely legs stretched out, while between her legs her pussy twitched and throbbed in anticipation of what was to come.

“Honey!”

She turned to Mark who was still by the car.

“Knock’em dead honey!” She smiled and waved.

Mark stared. As his wife had turned the evening sun zorla seks porno had caught behind her, and it was as though her top had become see-through. Her full firm breast had been outlined, the sun’s rays seeming to heighten their perfection.

Angel had not been wearing a bra! That was so unusual. He quickly dismissed that thought, and jumped in the car he had five minutes to get home.

Rubber burned as he accelerated away.

At home he grabbed some cans of beer from the fridge and flicked on the TV. The picture flickered into life, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The TV service was so unreliable. The familiar tune of BBC’s Match of the Day came from the box. Zimbabwe TV was relaying live one of the semi-finals of the FA Cup tonight!

He relaxed in the armchair. Peace and quite at home, cans of beer and football. Could life be better!

At the very same moment he took his first sip of beer. Angel had found Igwe making preparations in the kitchen. She stepped close to him and he took her in his arms and pressed her close.

As Mark enjoyed the first sip of his beer, Igwe savoured the firm pressure of Angel’s full breast crushed against him as he bent to kiss soft welcoming lips.

The evening alternated between tormenting slowness, and heart stopping moments when she found Igwe’s attention on her. She silently cursed the presence of the other women and started to notice how they all seemed to hang on every word Igwe said. Her previous sessions she had not paid proper attention to the other women but now she noticed more.

Janet was wearing a low cut top and every time Igwe spoke to her she leaned forward. Was that deliberate? Why was Mary making such an issue about her husband being away for a few days, before darting her eyes to Igwe to see if he had taken note. Was that a secret invitation. Susan on the other hand had just passed a photo of her daughter to Igwe. Was it really appropriate to give an African a photo of your teenage daughter in a bikini! Angel seethed as Igwe spent longer than necessary looking at the photo.

“She’s arriving next week for her six week summer holiday,” Susan gushed. Stupid woman Angel thought, and then her heart spun as Susan reached forward casually resting her hand on Igwe’s leg! Was Susan making an advance, and using the photo of her daughter as an inducement? Surely not! She briefly thought of her own lovely daughter’s and how Igwe might react to them. She swore to herself never to let him near them. Not even to let him know they existed! African men were incorrigible and very determined when a young white girl came to their attention.

Laura at 22 years old was the youngest of the women present, she moved in her chair and her split skirt slipped exposing a long length of shapely leg. Had she deliberately taken too long to cover herself?

Suddenly the nature of this philosophy session had changed in Angel’s mind. This was not about philosophy it was about female competition for a dominant male.

She wanted Igwe, but doubts and confusion prayed in her emotions. She stood and moved by the window. The others turned and looked at her wondering what she was doing. She saw momentary confusion on their faces, then annoyance. She had Igwe’s full attention now. As she had guessed correctly, the final sun’s rays shone through her top silhouetting her breasts.

She had no need of a bra. Her breasts were full, firm and proudly upstanding, and Igwe was looking at them with admiration in his eyes. She smiled and sipped her tea by the window continuing the pretence of looking out.

Confidence restored she returned to her seat. She notice the smile creasing the eyes of Igwe and smiled herself.

At 8.30 Igwe called out for his bodyguard to bring the coffee, and Angel’s heart raced. She found herself breathing hard and tried to calm herself. Laura left first as though oblivious to the others. Angel felt a pang as she watched her shapely form, hips swinging head for the door. She would never be 22 years old again!

Janet was saying her goodbye and was standing to close to Igwe. Those barely enclosed breasts seemed to brush casually against Igwe. Angel cursed her as a hussy.

Mary was next to leave, making too much fuss about being home all alone over the next few days.

Then Susan was next to Igwe pressing into his hand the photo of her teenage daughter and asking if he wanted to meet her when she came over for her holidays. Angel wandered what sort of woman used a photo of her own daughter to sexually tempt a middle aged African man!

Then as Susan was being shown out the door. Angel was momentarily alone in Igwe’s living room.

Her heart started to pound. Her skin was all tingly. She felt hot and flushed as her blood raced. She had moments before he returned. Her hand rose and she started to unbutton her blouse.

Igwe set aside the picture of Susan’s pretty daughter. He would certainly ensure the girl had an unforgettable holiday. He made a note in his diary for the next few nights. Laura had slipped him a note that she and her husband would be expecting him on Saturday.

He walked into the living room and stopped in his tracks.

Angel was standing there naked.

Her full and shapely body exposed to his view for what he realised was the first time, and what a magnificent shapely body she had! His last two beddings of her had been fumbled affairs!

He gazed rapt. His eyes raking over those magnificent full firm breasts that betrayed no hint of any sag. They belonged on a much younger woman! Her waist was still pronounced, over rounded hips, but her legs were breathtaking.

Long, full, shapely, enhanced by the golden tan that covered the whole of her body her noted. She must have been sunbathing naked. A surprising thought for a woman he already appreciated was sexually naïve and conservative.

All the more surprising that she was standing there naked in his living room.

His eyes finally ceased devouring that magnificent example of English womanhood and looked into her eyes. Behind that classic beauty he recognised the fear and insecurity that seemed at timed to overwhelm this English wife.

Wife of a white man, and Igwe smiled. Taking the wife of another man was considered in his tribe to be the supreme proof of manhood. Taking the wife of a white man was so far beyond the dreams of so many African men.

Now Angel stood naked in his living room.

She had started nervously biting her lip waiting for his response.

Stripping naked in advance of the return of this black African was probably been the bravest, scariest thing she had ever done.

Now she stood there nervously waiting for a response.

Igwe let her wait, happy to feed that insecurity. It would help him to mould her to suit his needs, and those of his friends….

“Please,” her voice broke through her nerves. “Take me to your bed!”

Igwe grinned and reached for her hand.

Angel’s heart skipped and jumped as Igwe took her by the hand to his bedroom. She felt his hand in hers, and realised it was the first time her hand had been held by anyone other than her husband in nearly 19 years.

Igwe’s hand was warm, and strong. She could feel the strength of his grip, but also the care taken not to crush her own slender hand, in his obvious strength. He had consideration, she realised.

Their last two sessions of lovemaking had been frantic feverish couplings. If she was going to betray her husband, and the vows she made before God and his altar, then she wanted a more memorable experience than the previous ‘ruts’. Exciting as they had been!

She allowed herself to be led to his bedroom, and heart seemed ready to beat its way out of her ribcage. She felt no cold walking naked in the warm African evening, but her nipples had sprouted erect.

Thickening with heat and blood her nipples were aroused. She flushed at the thought that if he looked Igwe would be able to see how excited she had become.

He opened an oak panelled door, and led Angel in and she stopped dead in her tracks. To describe the room as opulent would be an understatement. Her attention was riveted on the large canopied bed. Dark, varnished, carved oak posts marked each corner of the bed. Supported by intervening beams, purple cloth seemed to shine, and she wondered if it was velvet. It was trimmed in gold with tasseled bobs hanging in a fringe.

The bed itself was, like Igwe, huge. The coverlet was light and airy as befitted the hot climate. To Angel’s surprise it was a gaily coloured panorama of African flowers.

Igwe led her to it and she happily followed, momentarily distracted by the sheer luxury of the furnishings.

The coverings were turned down and the sheets seemed to shine.

Then Igwe’s arm swept around her waist and pulled her around into his arms. Angel’s searched his face but as his lips descended on hers, they closed.

She liked the kiss. She felt safe enveloped in his arms. His lips were hot and demanding, and she surrendered. Pressing her naked bodily firmly against his she wondered at her boldness. Her aroused nipples were crushed to the coarseness of his clothing betrayed the sexual excitement that fuelled her own desires.

Her lips parted and the she greedily thrust her tongue forward for attention. Her black lover was quick to join the duel with his own stronger, thicker tongue. She squirmed in his arms as she surrendered her mouth, in recognition of his alarming demanding male power.

Butterflies flew from her stomach, and a tingling sensation flushed her skin. She jumped as his hands cupped the soft peach like curves of her naked bottom. Firm hands that gripped, squeezed, and pressed her against his body.

Igwe enjoyed the soft, warm, round curves in his hand. This eager white wife had a full well rounded derriere and he relished the soft, smooth white flesh that had never been stroked and fondled by black hands until his own cupped them.

Her lips were hot and acquiescent as kissed the exciting, beautiful wife of a white man. He enjoyed their softness. Tracing the sweet lips with his tongue, he sought out her tongue and enjoyed a brief by-play. Delighted in the eager response.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir yanıt yazın

E-posta adresiniz yayınlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir