A Kenyan in My Wife - Chapter 2
By Kyng Kooba - March 2010
Fantasy story
monsterp1@yahoo.co.uk
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sat alone in the café, a cup of coffee untouched in front of me and a British paper open at the second page. Over by the reception my daughter Poppy was making use of the play area. Blissfully ******* that just two floors above us in our hotel room, her mother Kirsten was with a black barman called Eddy. It was our second week in Kenya and my wife’s first time with another man in our eight years of marriage. Needless to say, my mind was not on the paper. My Kirsten; conservative, catholic and now a plaything for black cock. The desperate situation still bounced around my brain. This is what I had wanted. Perhaps even ****** her into yet I still could not believe she had gone through with it. I was in shock. All had been my doing. My instigation. The affair I’d had with one of her closest friends alone hadn’t pushed her to it. Kirsten wasn’t doing this to get back at me. She was doing it because she felt it was what I wanted.
Almost an hour and a half past. Horror, abandon, intrigue and erotic tension gushed through my mindset. I wondered if I should return but remembered their final words to me. ‘Come back in a few hours. I imagine this stud will have finished with me by then’. I did not want to interrupt what I was sure would be a life-changing event. Eddy had certainly had his share of white pussy. The women, tourists that I had seen hanging around and flirting with him at his beachfront bar were testament to that. Still, the satisfaction in his eyes of fucking a new wife was just as potent for him. As I waited time seemed to move slowly, my mind filled with all kinds of twisted visions. This was unbearable. By 10:30 Poppy was looking tired and ready for bed. Her room was joined onto ours but I’d made sure before leaving that the door between them was locked. I led my daughter up in the lift and as we turned along the red, carpeted corridor towards us came Eddy. He had a casual, satisfied look about him. Still tucking his shirt into his pants with post-sex sweat on his brow that gleamed through his thinning grey hair. He nodded to me, a knowing look and flashed his trademark smile. A gleaming row of white teeth. How many western ladies had fallen for that one? It was only Monday. We had another week left in Malindi and he was not done with us. Not by far.
Kirsten was in the shower and after I put Poppy to bed I leant on the dresser and watched her dry her hair. For a woman who had just been through an intense black fucking with a man she’d only just met she looked composed. At least on the outside. We had been married eight years but in that moment I felt my feelings towards her change. Perhaps before I had taken her for granted in the past. Expected too much. Her face was tired but resolute. Staring blankly at her reflection in the dresser mirror. There was something else though. I’d watched her come three times with Eddy and that was before he’d dismissed me to the lobby. Even then her attitude seemed, adjusted.
‘Did you enjoy yourself honey?’ I asked. She paused, looked down at the dresser top for a moment and then resumed with the hairdryer. For a moment I thought her unable to speak to me.
‘Actually’ she said. ‘ I did’. Her voice was dry and quiet. All the groaning and at times, crying out she had done during intercourse had taken it’s toll. I’d never seen her like that. Still speaking her mind so purposefully surprised even her. I suspected nothing would be the same. ‘I can still feel his hands all over me’.
‘and his cock’ I added.
‘Yes’ she added with a pause. ‘He has a big willy hasn’t he’.
The next morning we went down to the beach and spent three hours or so sunbathing and swimming. It was another glorious day. To look at Kirsten you would never have suspected any of it had taken place. The events of the previous night banished from our happy family. Somehow, I felt satisfied that we had taken matters far enough. If my wife had indeed had sex with Eddy to make a point she had done so. Kirsten seemed her usual self, marshalling Poppy as she read her book. The glorious sun beating down hard from above. So much beauty all around. Nevertheless, my mind returned frequently to the space in her belly where at that moment, Eddy’s native African seed was residing. I wondered if hers did the same. Later, after packing up we got some lunch in one of the outdoor hotel restaurants. I hadn’t seen Eddy but presumed he was working at his usual bar down the beach. Probably telling tales of his latest white, married conquest or even chatting up a potential new lady.
Kirsten went up to the room and changed into a blue, one-piece swimsuit. Returning with her sun-bag in one hand and a hat in the other she returned to the beach. Her shoulder length hair pushed back and held with a tie. Poppy, exhausted from the sun was happily enjoying herself in the lobby play area and after a cup of tea I took my camera and went outside to take some shots around the hotel. An hour past and deciding to check on Kirsten I headed down to the beach. It was busier than I’d imagined with sunbathers spaced out a few yards apart. Spotting my wife halfway down the sand I approached to find a young black man of maybe twenty standing with a tray of drinks. I’d seen him around the hotel a lot, the last time serving a mid forties woman at Eddy’s bar whose eyes had been all over him. He was athletic and lean with boyish features and short dark hair. A red tribal necklace hanging around his neck.
‘My names Sima’ I heard the man say as I approached. The young waiter grinned, his eyes like saucers on my wife’s body. The swimsuit really complemented her figure, particularly her trim waist and shapely breasts. ‘Can I get you a drink lady…..or maybe more?’ he grinned making no effort to hide his indulgence.
‘Peter?’ Kirsten said, obviously flustered and glad to see me. She looked sheepishly around the other sunbathers. Just what was this?
Then it clicked. Eddy was not alone in his pursuit of white pussy and had obviously told his friends that Kirsten was available. My wife suddenly made the same conclusion and her face paled.
‘Oh my God Peter’ she gasped in embarrassment. ‘He’s put it about all over the hotel’. Quickly she covered herself with a thin red shawl, as if afraid other leering eyes might be watching. In that moment it seemed everyone around suddenly knew what she had done last night. Shaking my head at Sima he shrugged and departed, a scowl upon his young face. Clearly he had not been turned down often.
‘What did you expect honey? I said knowing full well there would have been implications for our actions. ‘Eddy is probably up the beach getting a lap-dance from a couple of girls and talking all about you’. I recalled the first day I’d see Joanne and Rick together with Eddy and some of his friends. The Alcove had been private and accessible enough. I’d described the events of that day to her in detail.
‘Oh my god, this is terrible, we need to leave. We need to…’. My wife stopped talking and stared out to sea.
‘Ok. I think I’ll head up there’ I said at last. It dawned on me that Kirsten had sacrificed a lot. I’d speak to Eddy, let him know this was a one time thing and to keep it quiet. She seemed to follow my trail of thought and nodded.
‘Ok honey, just hurry back ok?’
Brushing the sand from my shorts I made my way along the seafront. Along the beach led to desolate jungle but well before that, just around the hillside was the alcove. A convenient place for hotel workers to shrink away for beer, cigarettes or women if the opportunity was there. A breeze picked up and I had to take care along the rocks. The alcove itself was obscured from the main beach and I saw Sima wandering up towards the wooden forms where both Eddy and another man were sat smoking. I had seen this other man the previous day, working in the bar with Eddy. He called himself Mashudu or ‘Mash’ for the tourists. They looked up as I approached.
‘I send Sima to fuck your wife’ Eddy said as I sat down. ‘She say no?’. He didn’t sound entirely happy. The young man shrugged and switched on a small battered radio.
‘He must get plenty’ I suggested.
‘French, German, Italiano…yes…yes. Never English. Not yet’. I felt the men were playing with me and suddenly they burst into laughter.
By Kyng Kooba - March 2010
Fantasy story
monsterp1@yahoo.co.uk
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sat alone in the café, a cup of coffee untouched in front of me and a British paper open at the second page. Over by the reception my daughter Poppy was making use of the play area. Blissfully ******* that just two floors above us in our hotel room, her mother Kirsten was with a black barman called Eddy. It was our second week in Kenya and my wife’s first time with another man in our eight years of marriage. Needless to say, my mind was not on the paper. My Kirsten; conservative, catholic and now a plaything for black cock. The desperate situation still bounced around my brain. This is what I had wanted. Perhaps even ****** her into yet I still could not believe she had gone through with it. I was in shock. All had been my doing. My instigation. The affair I’d had with one of her closest friends alone hadn’t pushed her to it. Kirsten wasn’t doing this to get back at me. She was doing it because she felt it was what I wanted.
Almost an hour and a half past. Horror, abandon, intrigue and erotic tension gushed through my mindset. I wondered if I should return but remembered their final words to me. ‘Come back in a few hours. I imagine this stud will have finished with me by then’. I did not want to interrupt what I was sure would be a life-changing event. Eddy had certainly had his share of white pussy. The women, tourists that I had seen hanging around and flirting with him at his beachfront bar were testament to that. Still, the satisfaction in his eyes of fucking a new wife was just as potent for him. As I waited time seemed to move slowly, my mind filled with all kinds of twisted visions. This was unbearable. By 10:30 Poppy was looking tired and ready for bed. Her room was joined onto ours but I’d made sure before leaving that the door between them was locked. I led my daughter up in the lift and as we turned along the red, carpeted corridor towards us came Eddy. He had a casual, satisfied look about him. Still tucking his shirt into his pants with post-sex sweat on his brow that gleamed through his thinning grey hair. He nodded to me, a knowing look and flashed his trademark smile. A gleaming row of white teeth. How many western ladies had fallen for that one? It was only Monday. We had another week left in Malindi and he was not done with us. Not by far.
Kirsten was in the shower and after I put Poppy to bed I leant on the dresser and watched her dry her hair. For a woman who had just been through an intense black fucking with a man she’d only just met she looked composed. At least on the outside. We had been married eight years but in that moment I felt my feelings towards her change. Perhaps before I had taken her for granted in the past. Expected too much. Her face was tired but resolute. Staring blankly at her reflection in the dresser mirror. There was something else though. I’d watched her come three times with Eddy and that was before he’d dismissed me to the lobby. Even then her attitude seemed, adjusted.
‘Did you enjoy yourself honey?’ I asked. She paused, looked down at the dresser top for a moment and then resumed with the hairdryer. For a moment I thought her unable to speak to me.
‘Actually’ she said. ‘ I did’. Her voice was dry and quiet. All the groaning and at times, crying out she had done during intercourse had taken it’s toll. I’d never seen her like that. Still speaking her mind so purposefully surprised even her. I suspected nothing would be the same. ‘I can still feel his hands all over me’.
‘and his cock’ I added.
‘Yes’ she added with a pause. ‘He has a big willy hasn’t he’.
The next morning we went down to the beach and spent three hours or so sunbathing and swimming. It was another glorious day. To look at Kirsten you would never have suspected any of it had taken place. The events of the previous night banished from our happy family. Somehow, I felt satisfied that we had taken matters far enough. If my wife had indeed had sex with Eddy to make a point she had done so. Kirsten seemed her usual self, marshalling Poppy as she read her book. The glorious sun beating down hard from above. So much beauty all around. Nevertheless, my mind returned frequently to the space in her belly where at that moment, Eddy’s native African seed was residing. I wondered if hers did the same. Later, after packing up we got some lunch in one of the outdoor hotel restaurants. I hadn’t seen Eddy but presumed he was working at his usual bar down the beach. Probably telling tales of his latest white, married conquest or even chatting up a potential new lady.
Kirsten went up to the room and changed into a blue, one-piece swimsuit. Returning with her sun-bag in one hand and a hat in the other she returned to the beach. Her shoulder length hair pushed back and held with a tie. Poppy, exhausted from the sun was happily enjoying herself in the lobby play area and after a cup of tea I took my camera and went outside to take some shots around the hotel. An hour past and deciding to check on Kirsten I headed down to the beach. It was busier than I’d imagined with sunbathers spaced out a few yards apart. Spotting my wife halfway down the sand I approached to find a young black man of maybe twenty standing with a tray of drinks. I’d seen him around the hotel a lot, the last time serving a mid forties woman at Eddy’s bar whose eyes had been all over him. He was athletic and lean with boyish features and short dark hair. A red tribal necklace hanging around his neck.
‘My names Sima’ I heard the man say as I approached. The young waiter grinned, his eyes like saucers on my wife’s body. The swimsuit really complemented her figure, particularly her trim waist and shapely breasts. ‘Can I get you a drink lady…..or maybe more?’ he grinned making no effort to hide his indulgence.
‘Peter?’ Kirsten said, obviously flustered and glad to see me. She looked sheepishly around the other sunbathers. Just what was this?
Then it clicked. Eddy was not alone in his pursuit of white pussy and had obviously told his friends that Kirsten was available. My wife suddenly made the same conclusion and her face paled.
‘Oh my God Peter’ she gasped in embarrassment. ‘He’s put it about all over the hotel’. Quickly she covered herself with a thin red shawl, as if afraid other leering eyes might be watching. In that moment it seemed everyone around suddenly knew what she had done last night. Shaking my head at Sima he shrugged and departed, a scowl upon his young face. Clearly he had not been turned down often.
‘What did you expect honey? I said knowing full well there would have been implications for our actions. ‘Eddy is probably up the beach getting a lap-dance from a couple of girls and talking all about you’. I recalled the first day I’d see Joanne and Rick together with Eddy and some of his friends. The Alcove had been private and accessible enough. I’d described the events of that day to her in detail.
‘Oh my god, this is terrible, we need to leave. We need to…’. My wife stopped talking and stared out to sea.
‘Ok. I think I’ll head up there’ I said at last. It dawned on me that Kirsten had sacrificed a lot. I’d speak to Eddy, let him know this was a one time thing and to keep it quiet. She seemed to follow my trail of thought and nodded.
‘Ok honey, just hurry back ok?’
Brushing the sand from my shorts I made my way along the seafront. Along the beach led to desolate jungle but well before that, just around the hillside was the alcove. A convenient place for hotel workers to shrink away for beer, cigarettes or women if the opportunity was there. A breeze picked up and I had to take care along the rocks. The alcove itself was obscured from the main beach and I saw Sima wandering up towards the wooden forms where both Eddy and another man were sat smoking. I had seen this other man the previous day, working in the bar with Eddy. He called himself Mashudu or ‘Mash’ for the tourists. They looked up as I approached.
‘I send Sima to fuck your wife’ Eddy said as I sat down. ‘She say no?’. He didn’t sound entirely happy. The young man shrugged and switched on a small battered radio.
‘He must get plenty’ I suggested.
‘French, German, Italiano…yes…yes. Never English. Not yet’. I felt the men were playing with me and suddenly they burst into laughter.