Sought permission from Neff Trebor to share a revised version of his story, Lost Tribe of the Tanganyika, posted October 11, 2013. The author states, "I am flattered to have somebody do a variation of one of my stories.
We just have different viewpoints."
Anna Maria Menendez spent the second decade of her life as an aspiring Olympian and student athlete and the next decade submitting to others' wants and needs. She did not make the cut for the Olympics as a high school senior. In college, she had taken the minimum hours each semester to maintain athletic eligibility so she could spend more time practicing in order to be more competitive.
Even though they won the national championship her senior year at Kansas, she was injured and could not recover in time to qualify for the Olympics. It was a crushing blow after working for it for eight years. It was going to take a year with maximum semester hours to get her degree in Social Anthropology.
Then her parents got sick. She resumed her prior minimum hour class load while taking care of them and running the farm. She lived close enough to the city to commute to school and back to the farm to make sure the fences were good, the cattle were being fed and not getting out. During harvest season, she would drive the grain truck as the wheat combine was being filled.
After her parents died, she share cropped the land and was able to get enough income to devote her time and energy to finishing her masters and doctorate. She got a job as assistant curator at the Kaufman Center. Her success in track and school, followed by the hectic schedule of taking care of the farm and her parents meant her love life had been virtually non-existent. She spent quite a bit of time during her post graduate years with a much older professor working on her doctoral thesis and his research projects. Out of panic, social pressure, or resignation she finally gave in to his persistent proposals and married. At the time a quarter century age difference didn't seem to matter too much.
Affection, mutual devotion and fidelity quickly became "dress up night" on at least one Friday night a month. Adam made her wear a full length button front dress that hit the floor even wearing her six in high heeled boots. The front part between her breasts was emerald green matching her eyes and highlighting her red hair. The sides were black making her look even taller. Provocatively fitting her very alluring body like a glove left no doubt Anna was not wearing any lingerie.
He would take her out to dinner at Guinevere's. They would remain late enough for dancing. He made her dance with anybody who asked. She didn't like that either.
After that, it was on to the Emerald Café. They had amphitheater seating. They served drinks and everybody sat on couches. She never cared for the "Seat of Honor" on a large padded sofa recliner in the middle of the room. There was quite a bit of space around it.
There was a number on everybody's entrance ticket. When a wife or girlfriend's number was selected they would sit at the "Honor Seat." The first time Anna's eyes screamed to her husband, "Aren't you going to call this off?" Each Friday selected she would tensely sit there like a lamb awaiting slaughter with her eyes closed as four male participants with the same number came up. She didn't have to look as they unbuttoned her dress so she didn't. Once the four men were around her, the others were free to come up to watch.
Her voyeuristic husband forcing her to publicly submit to extramarital sexual encounters with strangers seemed to be endless and intolerable. Hopelessly trapped into a perverted sham of a marriage Anna clung to the hope that their age disparity meant Adam would not likely be alive too much longer. Although Anna stopped complaining and struggling when monthly "dress up nights" became every other week, her internal sobbing did not stop until she had an epiphany.
Adam's fetishes forced her to be a cheating wife. Nonconsensual sex eliminated ingrained guilt. Adam was guilty and therefore Anna was not a slut. This logical rationale provided an epiphany converting unwanted "dress up nights" into tolerable, gratifying encounters. Willingly adjusting the "Honor Seat" put her body level with the crotches of the four male strangers with her same number. Without hesitation she invitingly spread her legs and each hand began stroking proudly produced cocks while her mouth opened to swirl her tongue around the remaining phallic knob. Uninhibitedly arousing and satisfying four rotating strangers for more than an hour every other Friday night turned Anna into a multiple orgasmic hot wife.
The unexpected arrival of a substantial funding grant in support of her doctoral thesis on Tanganyika was the chance of a lifetime. Anna could hardly contain herself. As a Social Anthropologist, this is the moment in her life she had been waiting for. She had put off her life for so many others, but not any longer. If she had young children she wouldn't have been able to accept this grant. Her husband was due for a one-semester sabbatical, and she would be able to get away from work for that much time.
Anna had spent lots of time on the internet, and from previous trips she had also known that Bujumbura grew from a small village after it became a military post in German East Africa in 1889. After World War I it was made the administrative center of the Belgian League of Nations mandate of Ruanda-Urundi. The name was changed from Usumbura to Bujumbura when Burundi became independent in 1962. Since independence, Bujumbura has been the scene of frequent fighting between the country's two main ethnic groups, with Hutu militias opposing the Tutsi-dominated Burundi army.
While looking up many things on the internet for a number of years she had seen articles on the Tanganyika. During World War II, there had been a lot of fighting in North Africa.
She had read the accounts of Erwin Rommel, Mark Clark and George Patton chasing each other across North Africa. She had talked to relatives of a flight of nurses who had been flown into Libya to help.
One flight had disappeared. It was believed to have been on its way out of Libya. It had taken off at night. Rather than head north to Italy, they had decided to fly to Madagascar.
Over the years, Anna had taken summer vacations to tour some of the areas along the route.
She had heard stories of Japanese soldiers hiding on the small island of Guam for thirty- one years and the Philippine jungle for over forty years not knowing the war was over.
Could it be possible that anybody from this flight had actually survived? There were rumors. There had been accounts from pygmies, from aborigines and a number of tribes with their own languages that were known as "the un-contacted tribes." They had avoided civilization by choice and had often killed people who tried to help. White people who had lived for centuries with certain viruses and germs had made themselves immune to them. These segregated tribes could easily be decimated by the common cold or flu.
Trying to contact them was a tenuous experience for everybody involved. The translations were primitive and many word translations were uncertain. That is why Anna could not verify the stories she had heard.
She was now speculating on a particular area that was in a straight line between Libya and Madagascar; Rwanda, Burundi, and the huge body of water along them called Tanganyika. It was at the foot of a huge mountain range called the Albertine Rift. Anna felt the plane could have gone down from either lack of fuel, or not being able to get over the mountains.
Anna felt they could fly into Spain; hopscotch their way to Saudi Arabia; Madagascar and then on into Burundi. Having already used a local guide a couple of times, he could get a safe boat to go along the shore of Lake Tanganyika. They might get a helicopter to fly along the side of the Rift to see what they might have missed on the last trip.
The flight into Bujumbura had been hectic. They had changed so many time zones after they left Kansas City, they didn't know if they got there before or after they left. In the beginning, her husband Adam had not been that enthusiastic about this project. He was also a social anthropologist and her premises seemed ridiculous. Now, after spending parts of several summers over here, he started to become intrigued with the possibilities.
He also saw opportunities for him to advance his own prestige at the college by publishing the results if they found more.
When they got there, the climate was not nearly as hot as they had anticipated. Although it is on the equator, it is so high, that the altitude balances out the temperature.
Bujumbura has a tropical savanna climate with distinct wet and dry seasons. Its wet season is from October through April, while the dry season covers the remaining five months
While they were there, they spent a couple of days re-familiarizing themselves with the city. The city center is a colonial town with a large market, the national stadium, a large mosque, and the cathedral for the Archdiocese of Bujumbura. Museums in the city include the Burundi Museum of Life and the Burundi Geological Museum. Other nearby attractions include the Rusizi National Park, the Livingstone-Stanley Monument at Mugere (where David Livingstone and Henry Morton Stanley visited 14 days after their first historic meeting at Ujiji in Tanzania), the presidential palace and the source of the southernmost tributary of the Nile, described locally as the source of the Nile. Anna and Adam toured the museums to get rid of their jet lag.
Adam concurred with Anna's choice to again hire Marcel as their guide and task him with leasing a boat. Before they could leave, they had to arrange for many provisions.
They agreed to also let the guide make most of the plans for provisions. Marcel rented a double hull catamaran with sails and motors. If they ran out of fuel, they still had a chance to sail to the next port. It only took a few days and they were ready to go.
Their guide was a mountain of a man nearly 7'-0" tall. There was no doubt he was part Tusi, or Watusi Tribe from either Burundi or Rwanda. Most of the incredibly tall tribesmen were rangy men that didn't seem to weigh more than 160 pounds. Anna wished she was an NBA or College Basketball Scout. Her job would have been easy here. She had seen them easily jump their own height at festivals.
Conversely Marcel looked more like a tight end on an NFL team, weighing more like 250 pounds. His arms and legs had incredible muscle definition. Watusi men didn't just walk.
If you didn't see their feet, they almost seemed to be gliding along. Marcel always seemed to have a "Mona Lisa" smile on his face, like he knew an inside joke that he wasn't going to tell about. His English was almost flawless. It was almost like he had grown up in the U.S. If you listened closely, you could pick up a little bit of French accent and some of his words were more from the British vocabulary.
His head had been shaved except for a slight Mohawk of reddish curly hair down the middle. It must have been a "western" thing because that was not part of their ordinary culture. He wore black combat boots laced to just below his knees. His pants were camouflage denim that must have been taken from an American uniform. His shirt was unbuttoned, sleeveless denim with the tails not tucked into his pants. He had a razor sharp
"Crocodile Dundee" hunting knife in a black braided kind of military sheath that hung in an almost horizontal position at the back of his belt. He had an Israeli Uzi slung over his shoulder and a backpack of clips for it.
Their first trip to Burundi was anthropological research. Although Anna didn't initially like Marcel, continually hiring him as their guide enabled her to gradually become comfortable around him. Trips to Burundi after "dress up nights" began enabled her to compare the difference between an elder spouse impotent without fetishes and an imposing obviously manly man. After her epiphany she struggled to keep secret how irresistible she found Marcel. Even though none of her Emerald Café nights were interracial, Anna had absolutely no qualms with Marcel becoming her first black extramarital lover.
He was curious about this savage guide his wife kept hiring. He also suspected that Marcel knew more about what she was looking for than he let on. He felt that perhaps Marcel was milking these trips for more money; that he could have helped Anna more than he had. It was a subtle thing. It was the way his eyes moved when she said certain things. It was how he didn't respond to answers when he could have said: "I don't know."
When certain questions or issues were brought up.
Adam had been watching the guide more than his wife; searching for subtle body language and eye movement. After all, his work had trained him for things like this. His wife was more interested in the archaeological aspect of social anthropology. Adam was a human lie detector. He had studied closely the different speech patterns; physical interactions of different cultures; things like that. He hadn't thought there was much to Anna's search possibilities until he had studied Marcel's behavior. Now he thought that there might be more to it.
Whether insight into human nature or voyeuristic inclination, Adam intended to exploit the apparent chemistry between the guide and his wife. Adam didn't really care for the swimsuit she had packed. So he bought a risqué cut one-piece with the sides cut to the top of the hipbone. The wet suit torso design was intended to flatter a woman with a narrow waist and a large bust.
The first couple of days out were pretty un-remarkable. It had been the same as several other trips. From the boat they were looking for signs of a plane wreck or some kind of abnormal signs of civilization.
When it got close to dark on the third day they pulled into a cove. The water was incredible. It was a cobalt blue in the distance; like the untouched lakes in Alaska; the runoff from years of snow. Lake Tanganyika was so clear, you could see the bottom.
Marcel gathered some dry wood and built a fire to cook on while Anna and Adam set up tents two tents for the three of them. While Marcel was gone, Adam was talking to Anna.
"Anna, honey, I think Marcel knows more about where this wreck is than he is letting on.
I think he could have found this plane the last time he was here."
"What? You're full of it. If Marcel knew, he would have said so. What makes you say that?" she asked.
"Watch his eyes when you say something. I know you can tell. I think you and lots of women avoid eye contact so you don't give them the wrong message. You are afraid they will think you are interested in them, so you avoid contact." Adam said as he watched her.
Anna didn't reply. She knew that in this case his statement was absolutely true.
Adam clarified, "You need to try to get a little closer to him; get to know him a little more personally. Ask him about his family, his work before he was a guide; how he learned English so well."
Her wheels were starting to turn. On one hand Anna had every right to be suspicious of her husband's motives given his track record of using her. On the other, "What could it hurt?" Unlike the Emerald Café, her husband was urging her to flirtatiously probe for information, and if necessary submit to the most sexually desirable man she had ever met.
When Marcel came back with his fourth load of wood, Adam said: "That was plenty." He tossed the new swim-suit towards Anna. "Put this thing on. Why don't you two go for a swim before we eat? Marcel can put some steaks on, and I can watch them while you cool off."
Marcel may be the hired help and she might be the boss, but this was too good to be true.
She couldn't wait to go swimming alone with her dream man. Anna went into the tent to change. "It was a good thing she had shaved" she told herself. Sort of resembling a redheaded version of Blanka Vlasic, imagine Anna as a slightly more mature Angela Lindvall and that is what she looks like.
Marcel didn't even go into his tent. He sat down on a boulder and took off his boots and shoes. He took off his camouflage pants. He had some black Calvin Klein Pro Stretch Cycle Shorts. They were a cotton fabric with the legs going to about mid-thigh. He was a little nervous, but intrigued by Adam's suggestion.
When Anna came out, he knew he was going to have to get in the water pretty quick.
Marcel took the lead as they walked to the edge of the water. He couldn't get there fast enough. "How am I going to get out of the water without either of them seeing me like this?" he wondered.
Marcel dived in like an expert swimmer. He hardly made a ripple as he went in. He surfaced about ten yards out from where he went in. Anna waded in slowly. She should have dived in. At this altitude, the water was almost icy cold. Finally, she couldn't take it.
She dove in and swam underwater to where she could see him. In the clear water, she could see a bulge in his shorts that was thicker than her forearm. "Oh, fuck" she marveled.
She came to the surface as quick as she could. "This water is freezing." She screamed.
She wasn't quite sure what to do. They paddled around for a while. Both of them were nervous. She was like a fourteen-year old on a blind date. They chatted while the hung onto the catamaran.
Adam couldn't hear them very well, but could see they were both nervous. Anna decided to swim a little more. She had to get away from him. She swam about ten yards from the catamaran and dived. It was deep. She had to get away. Down she went; as far as her lungs would take her.
She saw something shiny; about forty feet from the surface. She wasn't sure what it was.
"What a shame somebody had left metal trash here in the bottom of such a pristine lake." she thought. She tried to pick it up. It was more than she could carry.
Anna swam back to the catamaran. She got into it and found some ¼" nylon rope. She tied one end to the boat and dived into the water with the other end. With the biggest breath she could muster and diving from the boat, she was able to get to the bottom. Not sure what she had, she tied the rope to the piece of metal and turned to head for the surface with her lungs bursting. When she got to the top, she realized Marcel had not lifted a finger to help her.
He still refused to help as she got back in the catamaran and started pulling in the rope.
When the scrap surfaced, she pulled it up on the boat. It was a piece of aluminum. She rubbed the surface to try to read the stamped numbers on it. There it was: "Aero A .38 Pat. No. 446800900" This was a cover over the front wheel of the eight passenger plane that disappeared with the Nurses on April 17, 1940.
Anna was stunned. She had found it. She looked over at Marcel. He knew. He did not ask her what she had found. She started jumping up and down and screaming to her husband.
"I found it! I found it!" she screamed. She dove into the water and swam for shore.
Marcel was already there.
When she got out of the water, she tugged on her suit to get some air into it. Basically the suit fit like a glove. The thin material left nothing to the imagination. Her long-stemmed coral pink nipples jutted out trying to burst through the fabric. The camel-toe between her legs left nothing to imagine. The only thing uncertain under the suit was the real color of the perfectly formed curls above her cleft.
Her husband stared, wide-eyed, wondering if she knew how she looked. Marcel tried not to look. He was struggling with his obvious reaction to this incredible woman who looked like she had a thin coat of dark primer over her torso and crotch. He was also struggling with how to react to the newly found secret he had been trying to conceal from the couple: the wreck of the Aero A-38.
Anna was in a dilemma. She was embarrassed at her near nudity. However she was so stunned by what she had found, she was almost oblivious about anything else. She sat down next to her husband on a large log near the fire. "Adam; I found a piece of the plane. We are onto something incredible." She said, almost in a whisper.
Adam looked slowly back and forth between Anna and Marcel. He took a beach towel and tried to comfort her as he dried her off a little. "Anna, honey, you have found something beyond belief. We can both see that Marcel knows much more about this than he is telling us. I think you need to work on him a little better to get some more information out of him. You are a beautiful woman. You have assets that will leave him defenseless if you use them. This discovery could be a huge benefit to our careers."
Anna was stunned. "Just what are you talking about?" she asked, her body still trembling from the cold and now from his comments.
"Anna, darling. You and I need something from him, and you are the only one who can get it." He kissed her on the cheek.
"You ... you ... you ... want ... want ... me to ... to ... submit to him in return for whatever he knows? Is using me the reason why you bought this obscene wetsuit? This is not the Emerald Café!"
Adam didn't say anything. He continued using the towel to dry her hair. He moved the towel to dry her back, arms and legs. He draped the long beach towel over her shoulders and let it hang down over her back. "This could be a big deal to our careers. You are an expert at Social Anthropology. That means you understand the why's and how's of interpersonal interaction. Find out what happened to those people on the plane."
Adam reached up to the zipper just below her neck. He grabbed the tab and pulled it down past the bottom of her breasts. Anna was too stunned to react. There once was a time when she would have been incensed by her husband exposing her body to a prospective sex partner. Unlike "dress up nights" she had not had time to consider all the implications.
Anna reached up and cupped her hands over her breasts; even though they were still covered by the thin, still wet fabric. The gesture did nothing to hide or obscure the sight of her intimate parts through the almost transparent fabric. It was more of a psychological reaction to the conversation she had been hit with. Slowly Anna realized she had not misunderstood her husband. This was not a dream. Anna sat there for the longest time.
She felt sure Adam's willingness to trade her sexual favors for advancement in their careers would be the final betrayal by the man supposed to be her husband. "I can't believe we are having this discussion. However, based on what you got out of nights at the Emerald Café I believe you will force me to do this" Anna vehemently whispered into Adam's ear.
Adam took her hands and uncrossed them. He placed them at her sides. It wasn't so much that both men could now clearly see the beautiful nipples pushing against the wisp of material around her perky melon sized breasts as the fact that he had actually proposed and endorsed the first marital infidelity she agreed with, but unknowingly ended their marriage.
Adam pulled on the long towel. She had to scoot up a bit to allow him to pull it away from her. He tossed it to Marcel. "Marcel; dry her off a little more. I think she is still cold. I think she wants to know more about the plane parts she found. I need to throw some more wood on the fire." Adam stood up. He grabbed her hand and gently guided her to a standing position. With absolutely no reticence she allowed herself to be led to stand in front of Marcel.
She was trembling from the effects of the cold, the conversation and the implications of it. Marcel reached out with both hands and took hers. Gently he pulled her down to a kneeling position between his legs on the soft grass.
Anna held her position still shivering. Marcel covered her more fully with the beach towel on her back. The beach towel was ridiculous. She was not wet. In fact, there was a soft sheen of arousal perspiration starting to form. He toweled her not knowing what else to do. She did not resist. With his confidence growing, he draped the towel over her neck. He put his hands on her shoulders. He tugged the sides apart unsure what her reaction would be.
She had imagined being intimately close with her guide too long to resist. She did not really care if this was what her husband wanted her to do. Even though this is exactly what she wanted, Anna was too stunned to know what to do. Could she really do all the things she wanted to do? Instinctively Anna tilted her head to one side and looked at her husband as Marcel tugged the wet suit over her shoulders. That was enough to expose her breasts completely. Marcel stopped for a minute. Her long stemmed coral pink nipples were staring up at him daring him to continue.
They were in the middle of nowhere. Adam was adding firewood to the coals. The fire came to life. Marcel could tell that Adam was curiously watching out of the corner of his eye. Marcel was getting bolder and braver. He took Anna's arms and raised her.
She was now standing in front of him with her wet suit peeled down to her waist. Anna's mind was racing. Her heart was about to burst out of her chest. Her arms were at her sides. She was not covering herself. Marcel reached up to grab the part of her wetsuit that was holding her arms down. Anna turned her head to look at her husband to confirm his body language and facial expression displayed neither indignity nor protest as she felt her wet suit being tugged down over her arms and waist.
Adam seemed to be focused on bringing the fire up far enough that it wouldn't go out during the night. Or was he? Maybe he was trying to raise the light level so he could see what was going on. She watched him as he turned and returned to his log and sat down.
Her heart was thumping against her sternum as she felt the wet suit being pulled down past her crotch. She was too exhilarated to protest or react. Mindlessly, she placed her hands on his shoulders, raising one and then the other foot as he tugged the last symbol of marital bonds down past her feet.
Adam came over and held out his hand. Marcel gave him the wetsuit. Adam placed it on some large rocks that lined the fire. The heat of the rocks would dry it out so she could use it again tomorrow. "What a ridiculous fucking exercise." She thought. They have peeled me naked and are concerned that my suit be dry to use tomorrow?' Why even bother with a suit she thought.
"Marcel my husband has put me in this situation because he wants to know more about what happened to that plane. What can you tell us about the plane?"
Marcel's head was on a level with her breasts. He did not respond. Instead, he reached around her with his arms. She could feel his stubble from the day's growth as he leaned into her. She could feel his tongue flicker around her left nipple. Rather than fear and embarrassment both of them stiffened with incredible excitement.
"This is a secret that our people have kept for over sixty years. I might get killed if I let anything out." Marcel continued. "I'm not sure I would tell you anything for any price."
He quit talking and continued flickering first one then the other of the scarlet wonders.
Anna turned towards her husband and announced, "He's not going to tell." Sneaking a wink at Marcel, she hoped the impasse would not end their permissive intimacy. "I cannot quit now" she thought.
Instead, Adam stood. He walked over to her. He took the rumpled up beach towel from her and folded it up. He dropped it on the grass in front of her. She felt him guide her back down to her knees. "You're a smart woman, honey. I think you know what to do.
You can do for him what you would never do for me. Try it and you will see how persuasive you can be."
Anna almost gagged at his despicable words. As a young girl, she and her friends had talked about these things in embarrassment. The older girls had giggled about how much control they had over their boyfriends by doing certain things. She had thought it had all been some kind of cruel joke. "People didn't actually do these things, did they?" she had told herself at the time.
In her studies and articles she had read over the years, she had grown to realize oral sexuality has been practiced in civilizations throughout time. Even the first few times her number came up at Emerald Cafe she was the only one in the audience unwilling to adjust to the times. Acceptance that she was unable to escape specified kinds of sexual encounters led to finding out she is multi-orgasmic when welcoming four consecutive sexual partners. She decided not to procrastinate any longer.
Marcel still had his Calvin Klein's on. They had dried out by now. She put her armpits over his thighs and her wrists draped back over his legs millimeters from the growing bulge in his cotton briefs. She laid her head against her right forearm. She balled up her right fist and used it to support her head. She opened her left hand and extended her forefinger. Anna brushed her left forefinger lazily across the bulge.
She seemed calm, collected and casual as she spoke as ordered. No matter what, it would probably turn out bad for one of the three. She didn't know if she even wanted to hear what he said. Her heart was beating at 100 decibels as she asked, "Marcel what needs to done for you to let us know what happened to that plane?"
Her movements were comforting to Marcel. These were practiced seductive foreplay that had served her well during her "dress up nights" at the Emerald Cafe. Although initially forced by a voyeuristic husband, she learned that she would get whatever she wanted when she seductively fondled the two strangers on each side of her while uninhibitedly taking very good care of the other two. Her epiphany was realizing her sexy body and sensual mind are the secret to getting anything she wanted.
She laid her head on her fist watching the temporarily sleeping giant behind the cotton briefs shudder and seem to come out of a deep slumber. She ran the back of her left hand across it. She could see where the head was. She used her thumb and forefingers to slowly but firmly pinch it. It shuddered. She could see Marcel's heart beating.
He responded with growing self-confidence and a little arrogance, "Well Mrs. Anna, I have always wanted to come to America. I have always wanted to become a citizen."
Perhaps extracting what they need to know wouldn't be as fearful as his earlier comment led her to believe. Maybe all he wants is a little help getting into our country. Still a little puzzled she responded, "We can get you a visa to visit for a short time, but I don't see how we can get you citizenship."
Without a moment's hesitation Marcel responded, "I could get in if I was married."
Not getting the implication she replied, "I'm sorry, Marcel. I don't know anybody I could get you married to."
Dropping her married title he clarified, "I could marry you, Miss Anna."
Shocked, she turned her focus away from the magnificent response to almost unconscious seductive caresses toward the fire pit to watch her estranged husband's facial expression while replying, "Marcel you know that I am already married."
Withdrawing away from her caressing hand accompanied his retort, "Well then, I guess we can't come to an arrangement now, can we?"
Not surprisingly she heard her husband conclude, "We can get a divorce Anna. Then he can marry you."
After all the "dress up nights" she was forced to endure, she exclaimed in shock, "What are you talking about?"
Adam's answer revealed the lengths he would go to with using her to meet his selfish interests. Nevertheless she was astound to hear, "Think about what all this means to both of us. How much are you willing to sacrifice for our careers? We can get a divorce at the Embassy when we get back to the capitol. You can marry him then and get back into the country as husband and wife. Once he is a citizen, you and I can get back together; whether we are married or not."
Anna looked at the emotionally abusive professor she had married in an unwarranted panic only a few years ago. Ever since their first night at the Emerald Café she had felt alone and abandoned by the man she thought she loved. His conniving plan offered her a viable way out of their sham of a marriage to an old relic she wanted to have as little to do with as possible and no longer wanted to know.
Carpe' Diem, "If this is what my husband says I must do, then I have no choice. Now what are you willing to tell us?"
Marcel negotiated, "Not so fast, Miss Anna. We are not married yet. I think I am going to have to have some good faith signs that you are indeed going to marry me."
Suspecting where he was going with this Anna prompted, "My husband has said that we will do it. What more is there to discuss?"
Adam got up and walked over to her. He staged whispered into her ear, "This is no different than the countless nights at Emerald Café." Adam could see a sudden flush to her face, arms tense up and struggle not to lash out. Adam quickly retreated back to his stump and sat.
She closed her eyes and buried her face against her right forearm. Without looking up into Marcel's eyes Anna began to slowly massage his phenomenal phallus with her left hand. She ran the back of her right hand across the fabric until she found the slotted opening of his fly. Moving her fingers into the opening she lovingly caressed the hot flesh inside.
Her head came off her forearm as she guided the slowly inflating phallus through the opening. Using her fingers to measure the girth as she had done so many times on the
"Seat of Honor," Fishing it out, or at least most of the ebony enormity, Anna knew from experience, "This is going to fucking hurt!" She could smell the unmistakable scent that only a real man's one-eyed creature had.
She finally had it all out in the cool night air before her. She ran the back of her hand up and down the soft skin of its underbelly. The loose skin followed the back of her hand.
This was something she had reluctantly learned to do before her epiphany and after enjoyed so many times. But unlike those hot wife public sexual encounters she was lovingly stimulating this prospective mate to promote her own "Cry Freedom!"
Anna pushed the magnificent midnight-hued meat up against his abdomen with her left hand. She slowly rubbed her forehead along the length of the underside. She was giving her mind time to digest Adam's ludicrous solution, "Am I about to suck and fuck this huge black guide for my husband's opportunity to be recognized for a discovery was mostly my research?" She could not help but speculate, "I can only imagine how many I will be fucking the rest of my life for the opportunity to write a few papers if I agree to do this?" Adam was a joke as a husband. If everything only goes as far as Marcel's proposal, then Adam won't ever again be her fucking husband. Marcel wanting to be her husband solved her dilemma!
She straightened her mate's magnificence out so it pointed straight at her. Tilting Marcel's phallus a little to her left, she lovingly laid her left cheek against it. She sensuously caressed it with the side of her face. Finally fulfilling her secret fantasies doing exactly what her husband ordered her to do unexpected tears of joy welled up in her eyes. She thought to herself as she turned her lips toward it and caressed the length of one side, "I'll never again have to satisfy a perverted voyeur as an Emerald Café exhibitionist."
Mentally resolving her marital problems was interrupted by the throbbing in her left hand. The sleeping monster began to sway back and forth in front of her face like a cobra trying to hypnotize her. The white fluid that seeped slowly out of the end looked like the darting forked tongue of the cobra. The crown gave the tip a flared look as the firelight danced across it.
The super-sized snake had an uncanny sense of where she was. If she teasingly turned her head away from the ebony knob, or pushed it aside, then it seemed to want to turn on its own accord like it could see her. Was this opening an eye or a mouth; or both? This black phallus seemed to be alive as it swayed and lurched all the while getting longer and longer.
She felt Marcel take her long braid in his left hand. She felt him coil the whole thing around his hand like a bronco rider hanging onto the strap around a bull before they open the gate. She knew without any doubt this ride was definitely going to last more than 6.8 seconds!
Anna pulled back as much as she could. She brought one hand back and put her hand over his. "Please don't force me. I'm begging you. You would be surprised at how long I've wanted to do this for us."
Marcel responsively dropped the braid. He encouragingly stroked her shoulder, neck and the sides of her face. After waiting this long for her, Marcel decided this beautiful woman can take as much time as she needed.
Anna was on her knees, nude, with her hands on each side of this immense phallus that was not going to be easy getting her mouth around. Anna held his magnificence still and tried to gauge the length, girth and distance before she closed her eyes. Anna leaned forward. She accepted the tip between her lips and reversed metaphorical roles, flicking her tongue over the knob. Shifting roles again into Mata Hara, she murmured, "Tell me about the plane."
Momentarily sucking in his breath in rapture, Marcel finally replied, "The plane is gone. I can show you tomorrow where the survivors are. Actually there are no survivors. Most of the women have died in their nineties. But they have had children. Their children have had children. The women intermarried with the men who fished them out of the lake, fed them, cared for them and hid them during the war. The men did not want the women to leave so they never told them the war was over. The women were excellent nurses and had a fair amount of medicine for a number of years. They kept the few men healthy for a long time. The girls that these nurses had were beautiful. Their children and descendants have been raised to think they should not leave this area."
Anna opened her mouth and slid the tip in until her lips covered the back of the crown.
They held their positions. Marcel was drunk with ecstasy as she held the end of him in her warm moist mouth. Goosebumps washed over him as she struggled to find a comfortable position to nestle her tongue. She may not have known it, but she was stimulating him beyond his wildest dreams.
She drew back and turned her head to break the strand of semen and spittle that joined them. She used her cheek to rub the tip clean before asking, "How is it that we have flown over and sailed by this area so many times and not seen anybody?"