This is based on a true story. A number of the events in this story actually happened whereas other parts only happened in my mind's eye. While I have neither read James Fox's book called, 'White Mischief, ' nor seen the movie by the same name starring the beautiful and very sexy English/Italian actress, Greta Scacchi as Lady Diana, this is what I imagined how the racial struggle took place in Happy Valley many years ago between the aristocratic Brits and the native Africans. I hope to read the book soon and also see the movie. When I do, I might pen a sequel to this story called, 'Happy Valley.' I have taken the artistic liberty of using Greta Scacchi's first name as the heroine in this story as I can picture her perfectly for this part. I know she must have been just as wonderful in the movie. It's just too bad that I've never had the opportunity to personally meet Greta. She has been one of my favorites of all time. Some day I hope to visit Kenya to not only see what used to be called Happy Valley but also maybe even scale Mt Kilimanjaro.
The story begins now:
Once upon a time, in a place far, far away... there was an idyllic location in the early nineteen-forties where wealthy British could go to escape the ravishes of war. It was away from the nightly air raid sirens and horrific bombings being made by the German Luftwaffe on the city of London. To avoid the terror, fear and horror of pre-World War II, many Brits packed up all of their belongings and moved from their war-torn homeland to a beautiful peaceful valley on the outskirts of Nairobi, Kenya called 'Happy Valley' by the local Africans.
The privileged English gentry and aristocrats owned spacious mansions in the lovely hills of Happy Valley complete with cooks, servants, gardeners and chauffeurs. Of course, the wealthier one was, the more servants one had. Keep in mind that all of the locals were Africans and very proud Africans at that. How would you feel if these imperialist foreigners came into your country with an indiscriminate amount of money, buying up everything and demanding immediate service of every kind? In most part, it was good for the local economy because of the positive influx of cash flow, however most of the really expensive items that the British ex-pats had were either brought with them from England or purchased from elsewhere such as Australia or the United States. As such, the Kenyan economy didn't thrive as much as it should have. It all boils down to greed and money, wanting what another man has. Sometimes that greed and jealousy extends to those other man's 'possessions' as well.
Most of the Brits who moved to Happy Valley tended to be older, wealthier and not have the gaggle of little children with them that the younger couples had. Because of that, they were more into the sophisticated things such as throwing elaborate dinner parties and ballroom dancing. If you could imagine, what would you think of the travesty of having well dressed Brits in their tuxedos and evening gowns entertaining their well-heeled friends while the rest of Africa was subjected to dire poverty?
After dinner at the Lake Naivasha Country Club, the men would sit in the clubs den with animal trophies lining the walls and smoke their cigars and drink expensive brandy while playing snooker. The ladies, dressed in their finest clothes, gloves and fancy hats, would chit chat in the saloon until the after-dinner dancing began. It wasn't much different from when they were in stodgy ole England except here they were safe from the terrors of war. Or were they?
This was twenty to twenty-five years before the infamous 'Peyton Place' in the United States but The Happy Valley Set, as they were called, had their own special kind of Peyton Place with all of its own adultery, jealousy and wickedness. While many of the Brits were still very loyal subjects and attended the Church of England services on Sunday mornings, Saturday nights were a completely different story of excess and decadence. Saturday morning was the usual round of golf or even polo at Lake Naivasha Country Club which was located in a spectacular setting. Saturday evenings started the beginning of not only the night's darkness but also its decadence.
Some of the products that the Brits actually liked to buy in Nairobi were the locally made ivory trinkets that are now banned. But a little known item which was very popular with the English gentlewoman back then were the items made from the now extinct black ivory obtained from the tusks of ebony African black bull elephants. This ebony ivory was made into phallic symbols said to be patterned after the huge black African cocks of the Mandingo or Zulu warriors.
These ancient dildos were reputed to have aphrodisiac properties so the Englishmen could use them on their own wives to make them aroused as proper Englishwomen weren't known at that time for their sexual liberation. It was also rumored from an old African legend that in attaining her passion, these dildos would turn into either the giant cock of the proud African warrior or the trunk of the rutting African bull elephant that was so long, thick and had those exciting ridges along the thick skin of the snout. These had the same powers as French ticklers. Oh, those naughty, naughty French. One difference between the two dildos was the one single 'eye' on the African cock or the twin holes for the nostrils from the African black bull elephant. Either way, it was said that the use of these dildos turned the normally dispassionate timid English wife into a raging wildcat in bed. It was also reported that a readily-available potent aphrodisiac was made in the region that was sure to turn any dowdy housewife into a raging nymphomaniac.
Douglas and Greta Stanford where invited to live in Happy Valley by their sponsors, Sir Jock Delves Broughton and his lovely wife, Lady Diana Broughton. Sir Jock, as he was called, was one of the senior British Colonial officials. He was in his sixties while his lovely 'trophy' wife was just barely thirty-five. Did they have trophy wives in the nineteen forties? The wealthy men surely did. If the Queen of England had known what was happening in Happy Valley, she would have looked upon her upper-class British subjects with disdain and embarrassment. Fortunately, either she never found out or she turned a deaf ear to the reports of extreme decadence and heavy drug use in Happy Valley.
Douglas Stanford was a barrister and Greta taught school back in jolly ole England. Because of the few English children in Happy Valley, Greta was complacent as well as content to just be the bored housewife. She had all the comforts of home except BBC radio. But alas, she had to make do. Their African cook's name was Thika Njorowa and her husband, Gorge, was also the gardener. 'Thika' was an appropriate name for the cook in that she cooked very well and was thick in the waist from eating her own excellent cooking. Thika and Gorge lived together in one of the small huts behind the Stanford place along with their young, pretty fourteen year old daughter, Seremai, who also worked as the house servant.
Their chauffeur, Joseph Maaisai, lived by himself in the Stanford's old carriage house. It no longer housed a 'carriage' or a horse and buggy for that matter but instead was the garage for an old Jaguar that was in constant state of disrepair. The damned English never could build a car that ran well. The Brits couldn't even make other equipment that ran either. Having reliable, mechanically top of the line equipment like the Germans almost beat the English twice if the Yanks hadn't saved their sorry limey asses, not once but twice. Fortunately, Joseph was pretty good at fixing up the Jag when it broke every so often and was able to get one of the local mechanics in Nairobi to come out to the Stanford mansion from time to time to do the more intricate repairs. As was the custom, the chauffeur was armed not only with a pistol but also with a high-powered rifle for protection of the family from any wild animals. Joseph also carried a 'kibokos, ' which is a rhino hide whip, and a 'pangas, ' a type of machete. There were many pangas available to most of the Kenyan men as it was a common agricultural tool but it was also very lethal in battle.
Joseph served as the Stanford's security. His last name was a nickname given to him by his enemies. 'Maaisai' in the Kenyan language means, 'rough, ' and his terrifying demeanor could certainly be that. One didn't want to be on the bad side of this bad boy. If Douglas Stanford had known that his African chauffeur was a member of the Mau Mau's as well as the Kikuyu Central Association (KCA), he would never have hired him to be their chauffeur and security guard let alone having him carry a pistol on his person or a rifle in their vehicle. But as it was, the Mau Mau's kept quiet and bided their time at least for the time being. The Mau Mau's were made up of primarily cut-throat Mandingo and Zulu warriors who didn't like kissing the pompous asses of the white British bastards and their condescending manner. Their time would soon come and retribution would certainly be sweet!
Due to the hot African weather, Greta had succumbed to not wearing the hot and constricting brassiere that she would have normally worn in England. Because of this, many men were attracted to her full, untethered white breasts. Her husband noticed that many of the African men also enjoyed staring at his lovely blonde wife. She must have looked like an unattainable goddess to the black men. It gave Douglas an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach and even made his own dick hard when thinking about his lovely blonde wife with those savage Africans.
There was a beautiful little pond on the Stanford property. Greta liked to swim and she would slip off her proper clothing in the heat of the afternoon sun and go for a nude swim under the watchful eye of their guard, Joseph Maaisai. He knew that there were many wild tings in Kenya that would take away the lovely mistress of the house and do ungodly things. Some of these creatures were even two-legged.
Joseph enjoyed these times watching the pretty blonde wife. It was as if she were intentionally teasing him with her nakedness. He would lean against one of the nearby trees while smoking a cigarette with his fully-loaded rifle securely tucked in his strong arms. The African chauffeur and security guard pretended that he didn't see her smooth pale skin but he did. He could also see her full, ripe, milky-white breasts and the darker shade of blonde pussy hair between her long legs. She had a body made for sex. Joseph knew that Mrs. Stanford was a natural blonde without even knowing that some women colored their hair. It made him hard with lust for the beautiful, blonde wife.
One evening after dinner, Greta went for a stroll on the mansion's spacious yard. She heard some strange, unnatural grunting sounds coming from the carriage house and thought that Joseph might be ill. She went to investigate. By the light of a candle, Greta could see through the open bedroom window. There on the bed, Joseph was plowing into some helpless young black girl. Greta was amazed at the huge black weapon that Joseph wielded between his powerful legs as he thrust into the little girl's plundered maidenhood. An African bull elephant couldn't have been more proud of the size equipment that was sported by the black chauffeur. She then had to gasp in horror when she saw the girl's eyes in the throes of passion and recognized that it was Seremai, the cook's pretty young daughter, underneath the rutting African chauffeur. Greta's gasping noise made Joseph and Seremai turn their heads towards the gasp that Greta had just made. Seremai smiled at her white mistress as Joseph just grinned at Greta. The spying white mistress ducked her head quickly away from the window but she couldn't tear herself away from coming back to continue viewing the highly erotic sight. Her own panties became damp while watching the African chauffeur make Seremai into a woman. Seremai was made a woman many times over that night. Greta wondered what that enormous black manhood would feel like inside her own pussy. Her own husband was away on business way to often.
It was after one of the Saturday morning golf outings at the Lake Naivasha Country Club that Sir Jock informed Douglas about the legendary black ivory dildo that his own Lady Diana loved so dearly.
"Here," Jock Broughton said to Douglas. "I have a couple extra of these things, ole chap. Maybe your lovely wife might like to use one?"
Douglas was handed one of the huge black dildos. He could only blush at what Sir Jock was proposing. Sir Jock just laughed as he liked to see others embarrassed.
"Surely, these things aren't this big in real life, are they?" he asked.
"My boy, that's one thing these African savages have going for 'em and that's big black cocks. Women love 'em that big and black. I've seen 'em up close and personal," he boasted. "Not that I'm gay, mind you, but I can't service my lovely Lady Diana like I used to. You know what I mean, old chap? I use this big boy on her to get her all worked up. Sometimes, I even let the real thing work its black magic on her. One of those big buck darkies can really make her scream."
It made Douglas hard thinking about an African's big, black manhood rutting between Lady Diana's willingly spread legs.
Greta looked beautiful that Saturday night as always. She was the 'Belle of the Ball' and Douglas was so proud that she was his pretty wife. The other husbands took their designated turn dancing with his charming wife, but of course, she went home with him. There was rumored to be another wild party over at the Broughton's later that night but Douglas had only one thing on his mind and that was to get his lovely blonde wife into his own bed.
While Greta was getting ready for bed, she took her husband's breath away when her evening gown slipped off her bare shoulders. Not only had she not worn a bra that evening but she also hadn't worn any panties either.
They quickly slipped into bed together. Greta was definitely in the mood for lovemaking as her husband had slipped some of the aphrodisiac into her wine earlier that evening. Her warm, naked body felt good next to his. They kissed passionately. His hand went down to between her spreading thighs. She was already wet for him.
"Darling," he said to his wife. "I have a surprise for you tonight."
"Oh, Douglas," she breathed. "What is it?"
Her husband reached under his pillow for the dildo. By the light of the bedside candle, Greta could see the massive black dildo. When she first saw it, she thought of Joseph, their big-cocked African chauffeur, and the other night when he made young Seremai a woman.
Greta gasped as her husband touched the giant black phallic symbol to her throbbing, erect clitoris. She imagined it was Joseph taking her for the first of many times. Her thighs opened to allow easier access to her own wanton womanhood. Greta orgasmed as her husband thrust the giant cock-like dildo deep inside her lust-slickened pussy. Douglas knew that his wife was tight. Even though he was no match for the size of this black bull elephant-sized cock, his lovely wife was tight for even him. He could only imagine what a real-life African cock would feel like thrusting into his sweet wife's near virginal pussy.
They made love twice that night which was a record for them. Usually, he could only perform once a night. Douglas didn't know it but because of the powerful aphrodisiac, his wife was ready for more. He was spent as he tenderly held his loving wife in his arms.
"Have you ever thought about taking an African lover, especially when I'm away for extended periods of time?"
Her husband's question caught her off guard.
"Why, no Dear," she lied. "I love only you."
"That's good," he replied and fell fast asleep.
Greta was still aroused from the giant black dildo, the previous lovemaking with her husband, and the remaining effects of the powerful aphrodisiac. She slipped out of bed, put on a sheer robe and padded barefoot to the bathroom. After she finished, she slipped on a pair of fluffy slippers and headed out the back door to the carriage house. Her mind told her not to but the lusting in her heart and in her loins told her to do so. Her mind was out-voted, two to one.
Joseph had been recently looking at the beautiful Mrs. Stanford with renewed interest lately especially after knowing that she had stayed to watch his sterling performance with Seremai. The young African girl was delightful to fuck but the black chauffeur lusted after only one woman; the beautiful, blonde Mrs. Greta Stanford.
Just that evening when he held the car door open for her, Joseph could see the swell of her full twin orbs peeking at him from over the top of her dress. The side-slit on her elegant evening gown was scandalously up to her mid-thigh. When she had gotten into the car, he got a very good glimpse of her shapely bare legs hidden normally beneath her dress. His huge African manhood became rock hard in an instant. Mrs. Stanford made him harder and harder these days as he was always thinking about the beautiful blonde wife. When they were leaving the party, he already knew that she had been given the powerful aphrodisiac by her own husband because he had requested the potent drug from his trusted chauffeur and bodyguard earlier that same day. Little did the gullible Mr. Sanford know that the effect would last as long as it did, especially in the dose that she had been given.
Joseph was feigning sleep when the beautiful Mrs. Greta Sanford entered his tiny bedroom. He had thoughtfully left a candle lit to make it easier for her to commit adultery with him tonight. The proud African chauffeur and bodyguard didn't hear her but smelled her enter his room. Not only could his keen sense of smell pick up the scent of her expensive perfume but he could also smell the heady aroma of the recent sex wafting from between her legs.
The candle was now behind her. Through his partially closed eyes, the candle lit up her pale smooth skin through her sheer nightgown. She looked like an angel in the night. She would be his angel tonight!
Joseph got up out of bed and was quickly at the blonde beauty's side before she had a chance to reconsider. He took the lovely wife in his strong black arms and they passionately kissed like Greta had never been kissed before. She melted in his powerful embrace as if it were black magic. The black bodyguard slipped the sheer robe off of her smooth white shoulders. The beautiful Mrs. Stanford was now wearing only her pearl necklace, earrings and matching bracelet and was standing completely naked in front of the highly aroused, proud African warrior. He was about to collect some of his just reward.
Joseph slept in the nude so he was already naked. His huge manhood was swollen and throbbing between his powerful thighs. His black hands went to her bare shoulders and pushed her down in front of him. At first, Greta didn't know what he wanted but when his giant cock was at her eye-level she inherently knew to open her ruby red lips and take him inside her sweet mouth. Her own husband, Douglas, had wanted her to do this for him on several occasions but she had always refused him. Now she was sucking on a giant black cock like the white whores did in the slums of London.
At first, the smell of his manhood rocked her senses but then she began to suck his big black cock in earnest. Greta lovingly cradled his huge, swollen, potent sperm-filled balls as she lavished his thick black cock with her tongue. Her tongue swirled around the huge, plump head and she nibbled at the throbbing vein running up his cock. After a while, Joseph pulled the blonde beauty to her feet as he didn't want to waste his dark seed needlessly. He placed the lovely blonde wife on the edge of his bed and spread her legs apart. His head went between her thighs to her excited loins as she had an orgasm. Joseph sucked all of her husband's worthless, white puny sperm out of her aroused pussy.
Greta was still breathless when her new African lover crawled up between her womanly charms.
Joseph feasted on her wonderful tits like a newborn piglet feasted on the mother sow. The African moved upwards and Greta offered her slim neck to his delight and ravishment. She would have many love marks to show for her passionate night of lovemaking. Maybe her husband might think that he made those marks himself on his beautiful, loving wife. Nahhh, the cuckolded husband would know that some other man had enjoyed his wife's womanly charms!
It was fortunate that her husband had used the dildo on his wife that night as it would have been much, much harder for Joseph's huge African cock to enter her previously unstretched vagina.
Greta was breathing very hard now and her heart was racing. She had never before been unfaithful to her loving husband. Now, here she was about to commit one of the sins of the Ten Commandments with a lusting African, no less.
"Please, please fuck me," she breathed into the black chauffeur's ear.
"How badly do you want it?" he asked.
"Please, Joseph. Please don't make me beg for it," she was desperate for his big black cock. That was the first time that she had ever used his first name.
Joseph smiled at his latest conquest.
"Then put it in for me, Honey, and I'll guide you to the Stairway to Heaven."
Greta reached between her wide spread thighs and grasped the throbbing black monster of proud African blood, muscle and sperm. The flickering candlelight made it look like Satan's thick Negro cock was poised to take her very soul. It did, and then some.