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    African Diplomat


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African Diplomat

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 daughter 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 hard on 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 fulsome 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 tattoo 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 family."

"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 fulsome 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 they?re 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.
I?ve 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 hard on 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 I?ve 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 drunk." 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 cupboard door.

"W-what did you...?"

"My slip. When I see my master's cock my head just switches off. I?ve
got two bibs right here." Tim was embarrassed 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.


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