(This story is derived from the storyline of 'expatdad's story 'An African Seduction', and is offered as a tribute to his writing.
(In the story 'An African Seduction' the wife, Angel, is excited by seeing white women with African men, and decides to explore that by simply walking out one night to see what happens. This is my take on Angel's Walk. M.W.)
Mark sat on the bed and watched what had almost become a ritual. He couldn't deny that he felt a stirring in his cock as he contemplated that Angel was going out for another evening, probably with Igwe. It never ceased, after all this time, to make him both morose and also edgy, as well as turned on.
Angel was putting the finishing touches on her hair. She looked in the mirror and saw Mark watching her. She smiled. She was naked except for her heels, high five inch heels--her 'fuckme's' as she called them to herself, realizing the truth of what the heels were named, at least the truth for her this night.
When her hair was done, she turned to him and said softly: "Are you okay?"
"Oh, the usual!" he said and hesitated and added: "But yes, we both know that I am."
"I need you to be okay," she said, "I'll need you, when I get home. I'll need taking care of and services. I'll need that."
He closed his eyes and let those words play with his mind for just a minute or two and shook his head 'yes'. When he opened his eyes, she was kneeling on the carpet. He never got used to seeing her this way, kneeling, sometimes, like now, naked and eager. She'd become so eager after these months of being available for Igwe's big black cock, and, he knew now, other black cocks also.
"Let me do this!" she said, "It gets me started so well."
"Mmmm," he said, and watched, almost as an impartial observer, as she opened his zip and took out his already formed erection. He watched as she smiled up at him, planing a kiss on the underside of his cock's head, and then took the head of the cock in her mouth.
It caused an involuntary moan from him and he growled at her, before thinking at all: "Cock sucker!"
"Yes," she said, taking his cock out of her mouth and licking it, "Call me that! Call me Mark's cock sucker! It doesn't matter whose else; just call me that!"
He did: "Mark's cock sucker! Angel is Mark's cock sucking wife!"
"Yes, yes!" she said, and returned immediately to serving him, bobbing her head up and down.
He was so far into this fantasy world that they'd woven around themselves and their life here in Africa that he came quickly, amazed now at how well she did this, and remembering her reluctance to ever do it before. Perhaps he did owe Igwe thanks for some things.
She looked up at him and smiled. His gaze took her all in: the slope of her grand tits and hardened nipples, the hint of her pussy hair between her legs and the outside slope of her ass cheeks, as she sat back on her heels.
"Angel," he said, "You are so beautiful!"
"Thank you, honey!" she said. "It pleases me so much that you're patient with me."
"Yes, patient," he said softly, never truly sure of that at all but always trying.
"I'll want you later!" she said. "After I've been cleaned."
"After you've been cleaned!" he said, still being half an automaton to help him get through the idea of her going out to Igwe for sex, and maybe to Igwe's friends too. He certainly never forgot her declarations, when she came home that time, of having been truly and totally 'fucked'.
She stood then and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then he watched the rest of her ritual of dressing, dressing for 'going out'.
He chose pale pink, bikini panties with an abundance of lace at the waist, and a matching soft, under wired bra, that not merely held her breasts in but rather seemed to 'present them', push them up and a it out.
Then it was a light summer dress, flowered and flowing. It buttoned all the way up the front. In her own mind, Angel was thinking that it would make it easier to get access to her. Even the thought and her plans for the evening were already causing a wetness between her legs. Because Angel did have plans.
Ever since that night in the car not long ago, when the thought crossed her mind that she should go walking one night, she'd been almost captive to the idea. This was not about Igwe and being given by Igwe to his friends, and his dogs, this was about her getting out and just being available. The thought haunted her, since that time and now she was going to do it.
She embraced Mark then, who was careful not to muss her up, since she was ready for her night.
"I'll be waiting, Angel," he said. "Late?"
"Don't know, honey," she said, and lightly kissed him again but then she went to the bureau again and re-applied her lipstick. He knew that she was from that moment on no longer his, until she came home, weary but horny and wanted to be cleaned and serviced. He thought of it and it made him hard again, the idea of kneeling and servicing her nakedness with his tongue, cleaning her pussy and maybe her ass crack too, where Igwe and his friends had been fucking her that night. The thought haunted and yet excited him, as he watched her walk out of the bedroom. He followed her to the door to the garage and just waved back at her, as she waved at him. Then she was gone and he settled down for his evening.
Angel was excited. She let a series of thoughts bounce around in her mind; they were thoughts of having big, black cocks to suck and of being fucked by those big black cocks. This was the new Angel, no longer the shy, sexually immature Angel. This was the Angel that Igwe had made or at least helped to emerge and it was an Angel that she realized more and more that she liked.
And not for a minute did she underrate her love, her affection for Mark, who had turned out to be the patient witness to this blossoming of Angel, witness and partner in the new ways that they'd established, for all the while that Angel was becoming the plaything, sexual toy almost of Igwe and his friends, she was giving herself with new abandon and passion to her Mark, who waited for her and, it seems, was turned on by his new role as the one who cleaned her used pussy and ass hole with his mouth before exacting his own passion on her. It made Angel shiver just to think of it right then.
She was excited, and had to force herself to concentrate, as she got into a more populated area of the town. As she drove down the street, she could see solitary men in doorways, sometimes smoking and always looking. They noticed her, a lone white woman driving around at this time. She liked that. She was ready for her walk.
She went to the south part of the town, where she knew there were some bars, more often than not, working men's bars. It was the kind of area that she was seeking for this walk. She picked a fairly deserted street, lined with some shops and simply parked her car and got out. She took a deep breath, realizing that this was potentially dangerous but also realizing that the silky crotch of her panties was all wet from her anticipation. The wicked thought crossed her mind to get out and shed her dress, walking in her panties and bra; it made her giggle, just the thought of it, and, she reflected, the correctness of the thought, She got out and went to a store front and looked in at the merchandise.
It wasn't long either. She saw him, 'the first one' she thought, coming. She didn't move; she just continued to feign her interest in the goods in the store window. Then he was right behind her. She looked at him in the reflection in the window and he nodded at her. He was hesitant and she liked that. She liked the idea of him being shocked that she would allow him to 'handle' her, 'feel' her. But he didn't know that right away.
He stood and then she felt his hand. It touched her waist lightly and she did nothing. It encouraged him. His hand stroked downward then and Angel had a shivering thrill, as the hand reached down and cupped one of her ass cheeks. She sent a sign then, almost imperceptibly but it was there for him to feel. She very, very lightly shook her ass cheeks against his hand. He smiled.
"Lovely white lady with a lovely ass is out on her own tonight?" he said softly.
She liked the musical tone of his voice as she said a soft: "Yes!"
Then there were two hands on her ass, once rubbing each of her ass cheeks. She closed her eyes for a moment and let herself feel, as his hands picked out the tight edges of her panties and pulled the elastic material out, letting it snap back against her skin. She giggled.
"Lovely white lady with the lovely ass is wearing pretty panties this night," he said, almost rolling the words in his musical tone.
In moments like this she was totally aware of the journey that she'd made, that Igwe had been instrumental in providing for her, her journey from being almost sexually ignorant to where she was now: loving her husband still but loving, adoring sex in all its forms, and with as many partners as Igwe had provided for her, even those dogs! And now she was providing for herself. She was on her walk, and there were hands on her ass, African hands; and those hands were playing with the edges of her panties, playing with them, snapping them and feeling the tightness of those edges against her ass cheeks.
She turned to go to another window and walk down the street and she felt him move back, unsure once again. But she reached out and put her arm around his waist and, while she was walking now, she felt his hand on her ass, resting right on the ass crack to feel the movement of her ass, as she walked.
.... There is more of this story ...