Chapter 10: Angel's past catches her up

The next few months settled into a regular pattern. Mark and Angel had reached an amicable arrangement, and Igwe was content to have Angel delivered to him every Tuesday night for the nights of the Philosophy Circle, and Mark no longer wasted time staying up for her late return.

Occasionally on other nights, but never more than once a week Igwe took Angel out to a dinner or reception. At such times Angel would dress in her customary style and panache, and Igwe would proudly strut into the occasion with a 'real English lady' paraded on his arm, leaving others to drool over what he would be doing to her later.

Afterwards Angel told Mark of how surprised she was that many of the Africans at these dinners and dancers there were with other white women and older teenage girls, paraded on display on all their finery.

She did not tell Mark of her own concerns that many of these women were much younger than her. So often they seemed to be between seventeen and twenty five years old, compared to her thirty-two years old! Though she comforted herself that none of them had her beauty, or stylishness!

Mark saw his wife dress for these occasions with mixed views. Seeing his wife parade around their bedroom in silk and satin undergarments as she chose dresses that would provoke and excite her lover while still not compromising her own sense of what was decent always left him with a churning stomach. The thought of Igwe's dark hands stripping that finery away and savouring his wife's soft warm curves before satisfying his lust on her in that brutal vigorous way he had witnessed at his villa never failed to leave him aroused.

When Angel came home there was always a sparkle in her eye, and often she would want to go straight to bed and make love with Mark. To his surprise on some of these occasions he would find that Angel had not come to him after being made love to, sexually excited as she was, but Angel was reluctant to talk in detail of what happened on those evenings.

He quite enjoyed the idea that Igwe had made Angel pleasure him with lips and tongue, before sending her home still horny and unsatisfied. Was the man deliberately making sure Angel did not cut him off from sex as some of the bizarre and ridiculous web forums claimed some women did by sending her home aroused and wanting...

Angel's extensive wardrobe expanded, and her range of lingerie became more exotic, all at no expense to Mark. While Angel's knowledge of Harare restaurants and clubs blossomed, though most of the clubs Angel was taken to, were clubs that were frequented by the African community rather than local or expatriate white staff.

Angel told Mark of clubs where the waiters were all white, male and female, in skimpy clothing and were expected to stand idly by and allow guests to fondle and caress them as they served.

She also told him excitedly of seeing her first live sex show, in which three hulking muscular black brutes had ravished the sweetest looking seventeen year old white girl while the audience looked on and indulged in open sexual play as they watched. Then at the end of the show the members had been invited backstage to have their own fun with the girl. All for a price of course! She choose not to expand as to how she had grovelled on her knees sucking Igwe to a climax, along with several other white women, as well as some young white girls nearer her daughter's age all sucking at their own lover's cocks, or bouncing in their laps as they watched the show. She knew would have alarmed Mark if she mentioned their ages!

There were some things that were best not to tell Mark, not if she did not have to!

It was one relief to Mark that the white community and black community favoured different drinking holes! The only club commonly attended by both communities was the Jazz Club. Of course most Africans cold not afford the more expensive establishments catering to the white community, with nearly four million African factory workers in the city many African drinking establishments were not the sort of place that white men visited, and only visited very rarely by white women with a sense of adventure and curiosity usually resolved across a few bar room tables behind locked doors whether they were willing or not.

While the wealthy and powerful new African elite had their own private discreet establishments in which they could indulge their slightest whim, whether it was for exotic food, quality wine, or soft skinned luscious females. Clubs in which the age of the girls and boys available to the members was not a consideration among his fellow unscrupulous Africans!

The chance of his wife being seen in the company of Igwe by anyone they knew seemed very remote although he began to realise there were a number of exclusive black drinking establishments that catered to the extremely wealthy Africans and those with political power. Clubs in which it was white men who were barred from membership, though not white women!

Angel described those as being similar to the bar on the mezzanine of the Sheraton, all leather and dark wood, with subservient service. Many of these clubs seemed to have a related country estate remote from other properties where Angel had heard rumours of even wilder parties but she had never detailed to Mark some of the wild tales she had heard.

Through work Mark met other African businessman, and when he politely but firmly declined to accept bribes was surprised to be offered the services of women, not just African women, but white women and girls as well. He knew the importance of maintaining good relations with the African subcontractors with whom his firm did business, and was always careful not to cause offense in turning down such offers. Though it seemed to him that when the Africans realised he was English, they seemed to nod in understanding.

Nevertheless he felt a vicarious thrill at being invited back to an African businessman's villa for tea and biscuits and seeing nubile, teenage white girls sunbathing by the poolside in skimpy bikinis. The thought of such lovely, fresh young women being offered to African or Arab guests or business contacts set in train lascivious thoughts for days on end.

They also made him more determined than ever that his own precious daughter should not be allowed anywhere near these African Lotharios!

Angel learned to accept Igwe's hands wandering up her dress, when sitting in public with his friends. She had learned to accept being escorted across a restaurant, while Igwe's hands declared his ownership by openly fondling her bottom as they strolled in front of all the other guests.

She learned how to accommodate his large member, learned how to wriggle and squirm in ways that allowed it to slide deeper. For the first time in fourteen years she felt free to glory in the pleasure of sex. Igwe was not her husband, though she would divorce Mark in a trice if Igwe asked her to marry him.

No Igwe was not her husband. He was not careful, considerate and gentle. He was a brute! All hard driving manhood and brutal vigour and in his hands Angel had learned the most important lesson of all.

It was OK not to be in charge!

It was OK not be a career woman!

It was exciting just to surrender to her femininity and be submissive to a man's lust!

She could throw any thoughts of her rights as a woman out the window.

With Igwe all she had to do was submit, and the ecstasy would follow!

No matter what perverted kinky demand he made on her all she had to do was surrender and everything would be alright!

She cuddled with him on the bed, that afternoon. He was naked and aroused and her eyes and hands were focussed on the flagpole that was his cock.

Her own soft white nakedness was draped over his stocky black body. With one silky thigh draped across his legs, she pressed and rubbed her firm round orbs against him, hoping the feel of her hard nipples pressed against him would rouse him to mount her.

Her soft hand grasped his cock. She could feel the gnarled throbbing veins and the pulse of his lust. Through the open window that gasps and moans coming from the flat above his garage could be clearly heard. If Igwe wanted to enjoy listening to that blond doxy being fucked senseless then Angel would not dare to complain. 'It could so easily be her in that room' she thought and shivered.

A burst of African laughter wafted across the driveway from the garage flat to the main villa and Angel recalled the moment when the door had burst open and the blond stranger had burst into Igwe's villa.

The woman had been distraught and angry, desperate and furious. If eyes could kill those blue eyes would have blasted Angel to hell there and then. Instead Chuku Olanes, Igwe's bodyguard, and Dominic his lecherous chauffeur had tumbled through the door behind her and rugby tackled her to the ground. A third African in blue overalls had run in after them and had promptly grabbed the woman's feet.

An unseemly tussle had broken out on the floor as the woman's anger fuelled her strength, and her slim body writhed in the grasp of the African's trying to hold her down. If the African men had concentrated on their job they would have easily overpowered her, but being African men they were easily distracted.

Distracted by the fresh scent of a white woman, by her soft curves, bouncing breasts, waving blond hair, and white thighs displayed by a rising dress. The African men wrestling with the woman found their hands holding on to parts of her that were not best designed to be of use in restraining her.

Hands grasped round breasts and slipped up soft thighs, pushing other hands aside so they could feel other vital parts rather than restrain the furiously struggling blond beauty.

"You bastard!" She yelled. Her legs kicked out, teeth bit, her head butted and the Africans belatedly realised they needed to get this hellcat under control!

"You said you loved me!" Her voice broke into a wail as the African men grasped wrists and neck and ankles. Still she humped and wriggled and howled.

Chuku sat on her, knocking the wind out of her.

Her head turned to Igwe, a look of desperate pleading on her face.

"Just what did I have to do?"

Angel's breath had caught in her throat at the look of anguish in the lovely woman's eyes. She could not have been over twenty five years old, and she had been so pretty.

Igwe had been stern and unmoved.

The Africans had bundled her back up onto her feet, and when she had started shouting again Chuku had slapped her face hard. Dominic had grabbed her tumbled her over his shoulder. The gardener had kept on hanging to her feet, while Chuku grabbed her hands.

Dominic's meaty hand slapped her bottom, and stayed to fondle and caress.

The woman wailed and called out to Igwe, but he just nodded to his staff who carried her off shouting and cursing. When Igwe took Angel in his arms she cuddled close. He had chosen her over that slim blond attractive woman! She felt a rush of wetness flood her loins as his arm encircled her.

A feeling of triumph had engulfed her. She was still the best.

Igwe had taken her off to his bedroom and she had eagerly agreed. Through the open windows the woman's screeches and protests had risen as she was taken not to her car but to the servant's flat over the garage.

Igwe had stripped off his clothes and Angel quickly followed, but instead of making love he had lain back on his bed and relaxed listening. Angel had cuddled up stroking and fondling Igwe, and had to listen as well too the sounds from the garage flat.

The woman's shrieks had risen as the African laughter had risen. Her protests just seemed to provoke the lust of the African servants. Angel had found her nipples hardening at the thought of those hard men holding that woman down just a short distance away.

The shrieks had stopped, but the laughter continued as the rhythmic squeak of bedsprings carried across the yard. As that sound reached them Igwe's cock had rose to full attention and she realised he was getting a kick from knowing what was happening to one of his former mistresses. She wondered if he was any different from her husband Mark, who was clearly aroused by her affair, even if it was confusing to Angel!

Then she realised she had to do something to bring Igwe's attention back to her. The price of failure at keeping Igwe's attention was squeaking away across the yard as his servant's took their pleasure!

She decided and dipped her head into Igwe's groin. Her tongue paid only passing homage to his cock as her head dipped low, she tried not to think about what she was about to do as her soft tongue lapped across his balls.

She paused for a moment, then threw aside caution and thrust her head lower, her tongue seeking out and licking his pungent arsehole. She tried not to think what she was doing when she pointed and stiffened her tongue and pushed it in.

The sound of Igwe's delighted groan of pleasure was music in her ears and she drew confidence from his stirring movements. Her tongue thrust and swirled and Igwe's thighs rose and clamped around her head burying her in his masculine strength.

Angel lost herself in the lust of the moment.

The weeks rolled into months and Angel settled into a comfortable routine with her husband, her family and her lover. Though it was her lover who set her pulse racing, and her heart thumping. It only took a few thoughts of him for her to get wet between her legs, and if Igwe was not around it was Mark who was surprised by the unexpected passion of her excitement.

She got to meet his close friends, friends that Igwe wanted her to sleep with. She kept telling him that she had no interest in any man but him and would willingly give up her husband and her family if he would take her in. Igwe had dismissed that offer not wanting to break up a settled family he said. Angel did not give a give a fig about that. In Igwe's presence her knees went weak and a fierce desire to just roll over and be mounted by him seemed to overcome her. It was totally irrational on her part, a far cry from her lifelong focus on her right as a woman in a man's world.

Here in Zimbabwe she just wanted to roll on her back and be fucked by her black lover. His sophistication, intelligence and charm disappeared with his clothes and Angel had learned what it really meant just to be a submissive woman giving in to the lust of a man.

But she did not want to sleep with his friends!

She did not like them!

The more she heard about them the more she was shocked. The more she spoke to other white women involved in their Philosophy Circle the more surprised she was by their attitudes, and the depths they were willing to go to please their African lovers. At first she had been shocked that sensible intelligent women would co-operate with Africans wanting to bed their teenage daughters.

She had no answer to their response that allowing their daughters to discover sex at the hands of experienced black lovers was no different than men taking their sons to brothels for their first sexual experiences. Why shouldn't modern women have a modern attitude to their own daughter's sex education?

That had not stopped her being shocked to the core when she learned that Shirley Parks had taken her fifteen year old son to her African lover so that the African could educate her son on wider aspects of sexual pleasure!

The extent of sodomy in Africa had shocked her with even Igwe expressing the view that as long as an opening was hot and tight what did it matter what gender it belonged to!

It was equally clear that while some fathers and husbands had no knowledge of their wives and daughters involvement with these dominant masterful Africans, others were fully aware and took advantage of the lust of the African men to advance their own careers even to the extent of delivering up daughters to African's rampant in lust for younger nubile white girls.

Angel had no doubt her own husband would hit the roof with his rage and anger if he learned that she had allowed Igwe anywhere near their daughter Amanda. Their eldest daughter, seventeen year old Rebecca, was safe in England at her sixth Form College and had recently written to declare her intention to marry her latest beau, while at the same time assuring Angel that she had every intention of being a virgin bride and Angel was not to worry about what she was up to in England.

Angel had been a virgin bride and proud of it. Now she wondered if the concept of being a virgin bride was just another trap women fell into to suit men. Would she have understood sex better if she had taken several lovers before she married? She tended to push those thoughts aside as unsuitable. Her affair with Igwe had proven that sex was only satisfactory for a woman when it was with someone you loved.

If only Igwe would understand that and stop pestering her to sleep with his friends!

His friend Ngorro made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The man was so fat she could not imagine him having the energy to make love to anyone. He boasted at weighing in at twenty stone. She found it bizarre that Africans considered being grossly overweight as a sign of enhanced status and wealth. The way his piglet eyes seemed to undress every time they met unnerved her.

Ngorro was always with that little nymphet Hayley Parson, who clearly had no reservations at all about snuggling up with him. The way the Africans passed confidently and possessively over the girl as she snuggled up to him left Angel with no doubts about the relationship between them, and the girl's enthusiasm for the bizarre combination of fifty four year old overweight lecherous African and the nubile white fourteen year old nymphet.

In England she would have dismissed out of hand such a combination, but this was Africa where wealth and power bred excesses of every kind.

She had also met Joshua had at the last meeting being boasting about his new Governess for his children, Natalie. Fresh out of an English university he had employed her to teach his children, and quickly found that she was willing to educate his sons and daughters in sexual matters as well as education. He had boasted how when he visited her room he found her to be a very willing sexual submissive willing to do anything at all that was necessary to keep her job. He would soon hand her over to Joseph, who he knew could exploit her blond beauty and submissiveness to make both men lots of money.

Joseph was the third friend of Igwe. At thirty four years old he was the youngest of Igwe's clique. His relative youth in the group was more than made up for by his power as a Major in the Central Intelligence Organisation. It was his job to prop up the regime running the country. He took it seriously and was a fully paid up member of the Terror Squad. Nevertheless Angel had found him unfailingly polite and courteous to her.

She had expressed her nervousness about him to Igwe. He had assured her that no white women who fell foul of the law ended up in an African jail if Joseph caught them. That reassurance evaporated when Igwe explained with a chuckle that such women invariably ended up working for Joseph's white escort service!

Mark had got on with life. Work taking up most of his time and Angel's affair meant he was more conscious of his time with Amanda and Robert. Nevertheless he was more conscious now when they encountered African men with white women on their arm. Dinner at the Sheraton Hotel would rarely pass without one African or another passing through the lobby with attractive well dressed white woman on their arm usually between seventeen and twenty five years old. He could hardly blame Amanda for her curiosity about such couples. Angel tended to discreetly ignore them.

Now when he took the kids to the ice cream parlour he was acutely conscious when an older African male brought a younger teenage white girl to the parlour. A black hand possessively resting on her shoulder as he bought ice cream cocktails for the girl then led her off with a hand rarely losing touch with her. He did not like to dwell too much about what happened later, not when he as sitting next to Amanda and very conscious of the hungry glances being directed her way.

One night Angel was sitting with Igwe on his sofa enjoying a drink and a chat. She loved these quiet times together when she was his sole attention. She knew why she was there, and knew before the evening was over she would be sprawled across his bed and mounted like a heifer beneath a bull, but these chats reinforced her belief that he wanted more from her than her body. It was a moment when her charm and wit could be matched against his surprising intellect and worldly knowledge.

Though even as she sat there sipping red wine her body seemed to tingle all over. Sitting across from Igwe her nipples had become hard and stiff. She did not mind if he could see her nipples betraying her arousal through her dress, she wanted him to know she was hot and horny for him. Her skin seemed super sensitive to feel of her dress, and she knew that when his hands touched her she would cream her panties.

There was a heavy fullness in her loins and she thanked God for the pill. She knew that if she had been fertile today she would not have been able to resist his lust no matter what the consequences.

Igwe sipped his own wine and wondered if the cocaine was having its affect on Angel yet. He did not use cocaine very often but it had some interesting affects on loosening up white women, and many of his friends used it to with interesting side effects.

Angel talked about the philosophical attitude of poor Africans and how they seemed to live around their poverty without complaint. She was talking nonsense of course, but t would not do to tell her. While it was perfectly true that most Africans lived a hand to mouth existence they were never slow to seize an opportunity to better themselves. Give an African power and he was quick to exploit it to make money, take sexual satisfaction where he could, or even inflict pain on others simply because he could.

The current rulers of the country were not ruling the country because they pussy footed around. They had seized the opportunity and ruthlessly held on to power and were now enjoying the fruits of that power!

Igwe was careful in his friends, steering clear of politics, while judicially making contributions to those in power or looking likely to move into powerful positions. He was therefore a friend to everybody and favours done were like investing in a bank. There were always people who felt they owed something to Igwe and profitable government contracts were awarded to him. He was not slow to offer delectable white females as rewards when contacts were placed. Joseph looked after those arrangements. The women like Angel, in Igwe's private circle of conquests, were sacred flesh for him and his friends alone.

That also kept them free of risky diseases, very important in an African country where disease was rampant.

He glanced across at Angel. Her eyes were bright, and her skin had a rosy flush to it. He could see her nipples through her dress, and knew that if he took his cock out of his trousers all thoughts of the state of ordinary Africans would vanish. As he watched her tongue flicked out unconsciously wetting her lips.

He loved those succulent lips and the way they softly caressed his cock. It was an added kick that there were the lips of the white wife of a white man, though he would never tell her that. It was clearly important to Angel that she was the centre of attention.

"Angel. I would love it if you told me about your very first sexual experience."

He watched the colour rise in her cheeks. The darling woman was blushing!

Angel's prattling stepped and her brain froze, and she glanced sharply at Igwe. Did he know? Surely her husband would not have mentioned it to him. She had only ever mentioned that shameful experience to her husband. Her parents knew of course, but there was no chance Igwe could have learned for them.

She took a deep breath to calm her suddenly alarmed nerves.

Igwe grinned at Angel's obvious discomfort. He knew he had touched a sore spot and wondered what deliciously naughty little secret she held.

He leaned across and put an arm around her shoulder and cuddled her close. The heady masculine scent did nothing to slow her fluttering heart. He could feel her warmth, and breathed in her scent. He loved it when a white woman was flushed and bothered. It heightened their skin tones and there was nothing so delightful as the nervousness in a woman who knew she was about to be ravished by a man she should not really be with.

He stroked her neck gently then turned her face towards him. Angel looked up at him and into his eyes before looking away.

"Tell me honey child, tell me about your first time."

Angel looked up at him and into his eyes before looking away.

"Well it was with Mark and we had been..."

"No, no, no I mean your very first sexual experience," and he turned her face back towards him so he could see her eyes, and was delighted by the look of panic in them. This was going to be good, he just knew it!

Angel's breath was catching in her throat. Her first experience was burned into her memory though she had tried to forget it. The exhilarating feeling of tongue on her pussy had been electrifying, but the trouble that it had got her into had pushed the experience deep into a dark closet of her mind.

Igwe stroked her cheek softly and gently and Angel's thoughts fluttered from the past to the present.

"Tell me honey!"

"No I can't it was too shameful!"

"I don't think you thought it shameful at the time. I bet you thought it was the most exciting thing in the world. Didn't you?"

Angel nodded. She had thought she had died and gone to heaven when that tongue licked across her virgin private parts. Then she flushed and buried her face in his shoulder torn between the urge to tell him and the embarrassment, the sheer perversion of the act. Her Parish priest had threatened her with hell and damnation when she went told all in confession.

"I can't ... it's so embarrassing!"

Igwe signed and looked at the swell of Angel's breasts. Her nipples had if anything peaked even further. Whatever the secret was it had heightened Angel's sexual arousal. He brought forward his free hand and cupped her squeezed one of those full firm full breasts and relished the feel of that nipple against his palm.

Angel gasped. Igwe's hands had sent shock waves of intense pleasure through her. Far more than usual, her breast seemed to leap eagerly into the caressing hand. Her heart pounded and her pussy pulsed and throbbed in heat and need. The effects of the cocaine had unknowing to Angel wreaked havoc on her senses. Heat seemed to radiate from her loins.

She turned to Igwe and tried to kiss him and convey her lust, anything to stop this line of questioning. Igwe pushed her questing lips away. He wanted answers and was not to be distracted.

"You have told you husband haven't you?"

A frustrated Angel nodded trying to avoid his eyes, but Igwe turned her face back to him.

"So you have told your husband, but you won't tell me?" His voice was hard, accusing. Angel winced. She was caught! How could she refuse to tell this man she loved and needed something she had already told her husband?

"Ok, ok! I'll tell, just bear with me a moment." Igwe tried to focus her head, to work out how to say this right. As if there was ever a right way...

"I ... my pussy was licked." Igwe smiled reassuringly and squeezed Angel's breast. His fingers seeking out her nipple to give it some special attention.

"I guess there was more to this than just your pussy being licked." Angel swallowed and gazed at the African who clearly understood her nature better than herself. A sexual nature she had suppressed and controlled for years.

"I ... I was just eleven years old!"

"Sweet, you must have been the prettiest eleven year old ever, but there is nothing shameful about having your pussy licked not even when you were only eleven years old. Whoever licked your pussy must have thought it was the sweetest tasting pussy..."

Angel turned to him and he was astonished at the anguish in her eyes.

"It was my pet dog!"

Her voice broke and she clung to him desperate not to be thrown aside and rejected. Igwe circled her in his arms cuddling her close. She could not see the look of lust and triumph in her lover's eyes. She fretted and worried he would reject her for permitting this pervert act. Igwe struggled to hold back the orgasm that threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of his latest conquest being licked by her pet dog when she was a sweet youngster.

"That's Ok," he patted her head gently. "That must have been so exciting for you."

Angel pulled away and looked up at Igwe. All she saw in his eyes was understanding and excitement.

"It was ... I didn't understand it was wrong ... the feeling was indescribable. It just felt so exhilarating ... your not ashamed of me?"