He shouldn't fret, he told himself, but he did.
The course of his fretting was his wife Suzanne.
In the five years of the marriage he had no need to fret, or to worry. It was more troubling therefore to fret now. Not that his wife had not been anything less than the perfect wife. Loving, caring, understanding and supportive. Scarcely an ill word had passed between them in five years. She was as lovely now as she was when they had met seven years earlier. Her skin was the same soft white, not quite creamy complexion. Her brown hair, short and smart, not overly fancy. Her waist was slim in relation to her build. His wife was not exactly slim, but was certainly well rounded and shapely. Junoesque might be the word, but perhaps that would give the impression of her being larger than she was. Her derriere was a constant source of delight. Tightly packed in jeans it would turn anyone's head. She certainly knew how to wriggle when she walked, and yet she did so with a natural grace that belied the sexiness of the round trembling cheeks of her bottom. Her bust did not appear large, until her top was removed. Then the firm, round, jutting, pink tipped breasts could fill any man's fantasy.
Her eyes were blue, though two years unemployment had deadened them a bit. Those two years had been hard but she had stood by him, with no criticism. Who would have thought just 4 months ago that he would be working again! Not just working but in a senior position.
That it was in Africa was the icing on the cake.
But he fretted.
His wife was dancing with another man.
Another man's hands rested of those lovely round hips.
Her arms rested on his shoulder as they gently moved together.
It was not just any other man. She was dancing with his boss.
Peter Thorenssen was a masterful man. He was charismatic and powerful in the sense of influence and in his presence. As Regional Party Chief for Zanu-PF he had used his connections to purchase Thorenssen Electrics. Forcing the previous owner into sell though a combination of 'created' bankruptcy, bribery, and backhanders until the previous owner had broken down and died. Some say Peter did more than buy the business. There were dark rumours, but Thomas tried to dismiss them. People loved to gossip in Zimbabwe, especially matters sordid. The local whites may not approve or relationships between Africans and white, but that did not stop them gossip mongering.
Thomas did not believe the rumours.
He had worked for Peter Thorenssen for two months now. During that time he had found him professional, competent, sharp, and very able. Masterful yes. He knew what he wanted and got what he wanted. Any who crossed his path were punished in no uncertain way. You may think you had scored a point against Peter in a business deal, but there would be a price exacted for that point, later if not immediate. If the truth were told Thomas had a certain fear of Peter. While he recognised his ability, that underlying animal wildness was just below the surface.
A lion that would eat any prey who got in his way. Perhaps a bull would be a better description. Peter was very physically powerful, almost repellently so Peter thought. Huge bulging muscled arms, broad shoulders, thick neck. He looked at first glance like a professional heavyweight boxer. The smart Saville Row suits, and silk ties from Burlington Arcade bought on his annual trip to London, together with the heavy gold cufflinks allegedly made specially for him by Garrard's, the Queens Jewellers served to provide a sophistication that impressed most who met him.
Had very much impressed his wife, who danced with him now, slow and close.
After two months working with him Thomas had almost forgotten that Peter was black.
Watching his wife dance in his arms brought to the surface buried primitive fears.
Thomas suspected he had changed his name to Peter Thorenssen on purchasing Thorenssen Electrics. Everyone who knew him called him Kizeki. But for business purposes he was Peter Thorenssen and woe betide anyone who let slip anything else. Thomas suspected that by doing so he had left his European suppliers, who only did business with him by phone and letter, with the mistaken opinion that they were doing business with a local white businessman.
The rumours of the Thorenssen take over were dark. The original Peter Thorenssen had not been willing to sell. Kizeki had tried lots of tricks to ruin the company in advance of his bid, but the owner had refused. A week before Kizeki bought the company, the owner had died of a massive coronary. He had no previous heart history. His grieving window had submitted to pressure and signed the Sale Agreement. Within a week she herself was dead. Food poisoning was the official reason. More straightforward poisoning according to others. But that did not ring true. The former owners two daughters had received the monies from the sale. Rebecca,16, and Julie,17. Kizeki, had adopted them as his own, ensured they received proper advice on investing the monies. Indeed they both now worked for Thorenssen Electrics in Marketing and Public Relations. Though Thomas had never seen them. They seemed too young for marketing. He had asked Bukei Farang about the girls. Bukei had looked at him incredulously.
'Marketing ... yes marketing.' He had roared with laughter. Then trundled off down the corridor mumbling about marketing and giggling to himself.
Thomas sipped his drink. It was a Pimm's No1 served in a pint Jug.
He glanced at his wife. She was happy at least. After two difficult economic years this job had been a godsend. They needed it. Suzanne had started to blossom again in the last two months since their arrival in Zimbabwe. He was not going to make a scene and cloud that happiness.
Watching his wife dance with Peter, he did not see a simple matter of his wife dancing with his boss at a quite get together for the senior company's managers. Instead he saw his lovely, gorgeous wife dancing with a black!
He struggled to combat the sudden prejudice.
After two months they had both grown used to the casual determined gropes that Suzanne's curvy derriere received in the supermarket. The sudden press of bodies in a crowded mall followed by a hand darting in and squeezed one of her breasts. They both knew what to expect from black men in Africa. Now his wife danced with one. Though Peter was a world apart from the African men who thronged the shopping arcades.
All of Peter's sophistication and wealth could not hide the fact that Peter was black.
Blacks lusted after pretty white women like his wife Suzanne!
Thomas fought back his fears. He was being irrational he told himself. Peter was a professional, a cut above the rest. He was his boss, a man apart. Someone special.
He sipped again and glanced around the room. His wife was not the only wife dancing. The four other wives of his fellow expat manager's who were present were also up and dancing. Sarah was dancing. She was the wife of one of the Engineers. She had an incredible bust, and what a bottom! Peter struggled to control his thoughts. He should not think of Sarah like that! She was the wife of one of his friends, one of his work colleagues. Hell, he thought, she was a cracker, but she was not dancing with her husband she was dancing with Faria, the African Accounts Director.
Likewise Pamela was dancing with Bukei Farang, the Engineer Director, though Peter had yet to discover any engineering ability in Bukei. He certainly had the ability to create fear in the workforce. Peter doubted he had even a basic understanding of calculus. Pretty little Diana was just 19, and only married for six months. Yet the way she was hugging close to Robert Mushedi, you would be mistaken for thinking her besotted with him.
That left Penelope. Stately Penelope. With a slim willowy body she swayed regally wherever she went. She was a former head girl of Rhodean, one of the top girl's private schools in England. The niece of an English Duke, related by marriage to the Beauforts, and married to her husband Viscount Lennox. Her long waist length hair was not quite long enough to hide the fact that Torke Rembu, the Marketing Director, had a firm grip on her bottom. With hands actively probing their soft roundness.
Viscount Lennox was on his uppers. Reduced to working for a living. He had come to Africa, so that his aristocratic friends could not mock his penury. Gambling had been his downfall, that and unpaid Death Duties on the Longleaf Estate. That he had lost the estate to a card shark bastard of an Arab Sheik had not impressed the Inland Revenue!
It would be a long time before he returned to the UK.
His eyes were firmly fixed on the chessboard. It was a fantastic set, carved from malachite in green and white with ornate carved pieces. He was playing Roger, Diana's young husband. Both were careful to concentrate on the action on the chessboard.
Sarah's husband was watching his wife. He did not seem at all bothered as Sarah writhed slowly in Farai's firm grip. Steve, Pamela's husband was not here. Pamela had muttered something about Steve urgently wanting to do some work at home as she introduced her daughter, Kim.
Kim was lovely.
Thomas had tried to control his eyes, especially in front of Pamela, the girls' mother. She was seventeen it seemed though she looked older. Her top was tasteful, smart and of very high quality. It was also disturbingly low cut. Her full, teenage white breasts seemed to want to burst up and out of that figure-hugging top. Her blue eyes, rosebud lips, and shoulder length wavy black hair all served to emphasis that she was an English Rose of the highest quality.
He had seen Kim later by the patio window where the external lights shone through her skirt. It was very clear that Kim was wearing stocking within that light, swirling, and flowery blue skirt. Indeed for one heart stopping moment it seemed she was not wearing any panties. Her vulva briefly exposed by a combination of background lights, and the lightweight sheerness of her swirling skirt.
He turned briefly looking for Kim.
She was sitting with Peter's wife, heads close, chatting. Kim seemed flushed. She was one of those girls who readily blushed, and always radiated a healthy glow. Roberta had a hand on Kim's knee and speaking earnestly, though with a sparkle in her eye. Roberta had a charisma to match that of her husband. She was indeed a senior member of the Zanu-PF women's movement. Business and politics was closely mixed in Zimbabwe.
The way Kim was sitting Thomas had a perfect view of Kim's cleavage.
Thomas jumped at his wife's voice at his shoulder. He flushed guiltily at being caught by his wife just as he was ogling the girl's lovely bust. He turned to his wife. His face felt very red. Suzanne did not seem to notice. Her eyes were alight with a fire he had not seen in a long time. Her face seemed to glow.
'Here, honey. I've brought you a new drink.' She handed him a new Pimm's. He sipped and gasped.
'You have made it pretty strong!'
Suzanne grinned and gave him a hug. She held him close. She smelled lovely. Her firm breasts pushed into him. She kissed him lightly.
'I love you, ' she whispered. Thomas felt his heart leap at the words. He leaned forward and kissed her gently.
'I love you, too.'
'Honey, can we have a little chat?'
'Of course, what's on your mind?'
'Not here, let's go into the kitchen.'
Suzanne took his hand in hers. Her hand seemed soft and caressing as she led him into the kitchen. She flashed a flustered smile at Peter as they passed. Thomas allowed himself to be led by the hand into the kitchen.
In the kitchen she put down her drink on one of the marble surfaces. She looked flustered, unsure where to start. Thomas put down his own drink and took her into his arms.
'I love you, ' he repeated. Suzanne smiled. She looked a little nervous.
'I love you too, honey. I've always loved you, and still do.' He smiled back at her, their eyes meeting.
'Honey, do you remember when we got married?' Thomas smiled.
'Of course, how could I possibly forget?' They smiled at each other Suzanne looked radiant, almost glowing. It reminded him of their wedding day.
'Before we got married ... I was not sure ... I had some doubts.' Suzanne was almost whispering.
'But surely not now, honey?' Thomas though nervous about where this was leading could not believe that Suzanne felt any different. If anything the last five years had brought them closer. Removed doubts.
'No, not now.' She smiled at Thomas. 'No doubts ... I love you ... and only you.' Thomas grinned like a schoolboy. Suzanne frowned and flushed. It was going to hurt, and she did not want to hurt him.
'Before I accepted your proposal you made some promises.'
Thomas felt his heart stop.
Suzanne could see the consternation on her husband's face. She flushed, but it was too late now. She remembered Peter, dancing close, she remembered.
'He's huge, honey, I mean Huge Huge!' Her eyes seemed to light up again. 'At first I didn't realise. I thought he was trying to embarrass me, but ... but ... God it's huge.' She looked at Thomas who looked stricken.
'I thought it was a joke, that he was playing a trick on me! I thought how childish, a grown man putting a cucumber on his trousers and then rubbing it against me.'
'But ... it was incredible honey ... it was a real ... a cock. It was soft! But now it's not so ... soft. It's very definitely a cock! Honey, honey, ' her voice was soft coaxing. 'I still love you ... I ... I just have to find out.'
Thomas was in turmoil. He had indeed promised. Five years ago he had promised. He had thought Suzanne might not marry him. Might go out and find someone else, and that he would lose her. So he had promised. Five years of happiness, through some difficulties, but the strength of their love had held through. He had forgotten.
He had promised if she ever met a man with a really big cock, he would not stop her from discovering what it would be like to try such a cock. He looked into her eyes. She was troubled, excited, concerned, and their was a fire in her eyes.
'I did promise.' He swallowed.
'He ... he ... he really is big. God big is not the word. He is bloody huge.' She released Thomas from her hug and held up her hands, at least 12 inches apart. 'God and he is thick too.' Her fingers circled, she had to use two hands. Thomas looked sceptical. Suzanne grinned at him.
'You will let me then... '
Thomas struggled to speak. His stomach was lurching. His mind was in torment.
'But honey he's my Boss. Couldn't you find someone else?'
Suzanne shook her head.
'Everyone I work with will know... ' Suzanne just smiled at him.
'What do you think it will be like working for a man who has slept with my wife?'
'Perhaps it will be easier for you, after all it might be said that he owes you a favour, if you give your permission for him to bed me.'
Bed me. The words rolled around his head. Bed me.
His glorious lovely wife with that Black Bull Peter Thorenssen, the image was disturbing, shocking, but at the same time erotic. His lovely wife with a huge black cock stuffed up her!
He had promised after all.
Suzanne squealed and bounded forward to squeeze him in a bear hug.
'Oh thank you, honey. I'll make it up to you. I promise.' Her eyes met his. She was flushed, a rose pink hue. Her eyes flashed with passion and excitement. She looked into his eyes.
'I'll do more than just make it up to you. You just wait and see.'
She turned and headed for the door. Then paused. She seemed to think for a moment then turned back to Thomas.
'I made you a promise too.'
Thomas looked confused.
'I promised never to remove my knickers for another man, or allow another man to remove them.'
Thomas smiled in memory. It seemed so long ago now, so pointless. It contradicted his promise. Suzanne stood looking at him, her legs slightly spread. She looked speculative. Was she not after all going to go through with this?
'You will have to take them off.'
She said it so casually.
Thomas nearly choked
Suzanne grinned at him.
'Come on, honey, take them off.'
Thomas lurched towards Suzanne, suddenly unsteady on his feet.
Suzanne reached to steady him, then pushed his shoulders down.
He dropped to his knees.
Suzanne watched him, an expectant excitement on her face.
He reached under her skirt. Sliding his hands up her shapely bare legs. His hands reached her panties, and he paused. He looked up at Suzanne who grinned excitedly at him. His hands circled her bottom, cupping and slightly squeezing her resilient, soft, and curvy bottom.
He paused again.
Could he really do this?
His turmoil could not be greater. He was kneeling at his wife's feet. His hands poised to remove her panties so that another man could fuck her. He must be mad! He imagined her lovely full thighs parted. Imagined the huge, monster, black cock she had described probing and sliding inside his precious wife. Her full white breasts grasped and squeezed by a lust filled Peter Thorenssen.
'If you don't take them off ... I won't do it... '
Thomas swallowed. He had promised. He looked at his wife. There was such excitement in her eyes. If he did not do this, would she always live with that regret? He would break his promise, and he had no wish to ever break his promise to Suzanne. He did not want to live with reproachful looks. He trembled.
His hands slid the silky French knickers over her the soft curve of her bottom. They caught briefly at her vulva, and he paused again. If he pulled them away no it would be to allow another man access to ... to...
He looked up at Suzanne. There was such a wild look in her eye he delayed no longer. Suzanne's panties slithered down her legs.
Thomas took some time to recover himself and gather his thoughts. He finished his drink and poured himself another.
Eventually it seemed like forever, he rejoined the 'party.'
His wife was still dancing with Peter. There was no sign of Pamela, Diana, Sarah, or Penelope. Roger and Viscount Lennox continued their chess game. Rick watched sipping his drink. Thomas turned to look at Suzanne. Perhaps she had changed her mind after all. Peter saw him looking, and with a casual nonchalance slid his large hands cupped Suzanne's bottom and squeezed. He seemed suddenly surprised. His hands caressed that lovely, curving derriere as though exploring. He had discovered she was no longer wearing panties. He turned to Suzanne and whispered n her ear. She looked up and nodded, she glanced briefly at Thomas and then nodded. Peter looked across in surprise at Thomas and grinned. Suzanne could not see that grin. It had no sophistication, no panache. It was simply a feral lusting grin at Thomas. All the time he caressed Suzanne's lovely round bottom.
He turned to meet Suzanne's gaze. Lowered his lips, and kissed her. Oh No! Not in front of his work colleagues. Thomas nearly groaned, but the others were studiously ignoring the scene. Except for Rick. Rick was enjoying watching Peter grope Suzanne. Thomas felt affronted, but at the same time helpless.
Peter slid his arm around Suzanne's waist and led her from the room. Thomas started to follow, stopped, started, and dithered. Eventually he followed the pair out of the room. He was just in time to see one of the bedroom doors close. He followed to the door and stopped.
His wife was behind that door.
Behind that door with another man.
A Black man.
With a huge ... so huge cock!
His hand reached for the door handle, but his hand fell back to his side.
He had promised.
He reached again for the door handle. His mind was full of confusing images. His stomach lurched. His hand dropped back to his side again. She would not forget if he interrupted. He had promised. Let her get it out of her system...
He turned and with a heavy heart, and racing mind returned to the lounge.
He needed another drink!
He joined Rick in watching the chess game. Viscount Lennox gave him an understanding look. Young Roger looked upset, fighting back tears and trying to focus on the game. Rick spoke.