Chapter 7: An Affair More public

Mark Scott sat on the edge of the bed in a strange morose mood. His wife Angel was sitting at her dressing table in only brassiere and panties as she stared into the mirror and brushed up her eyelids. Angel was very beautiful, and need little make up, but like most women she could always find some fault or concern that needed addressing. Mark eyed the smooth expanse of her flawless bare back then give a little shudder as he realised she would be lying on that back later that evening, but not with him.

Angel eyed her husband sitting on the bed. She would not allow him to ruin her evening. The whole situation was on tenterhooks, and her emotions were confused. She was going out tonight for the first time in public with Igwe, her lover, a dinner date at a restaurant in town.

Mark watched as Angel seemed to finish at the dressing table, She walked in front of the wardrobe mirror, and stood in front of it changing her position several times. Mark swallowed at the sight of his wife's barely clad curves. She was wearing a pink satiny combination that was edged with white lace. It was loose fitting and did little to support, or constrain. He could not imagine the lust such lingerie would instil in the older African who was it seems her lover. He swallowed to control the lump in his throat. His wife was dressing deliberately to stir up the lust of another man, an older black man.

Angel strode from the wardrobe mirror to the bathroom. In the soft glow from the candles her body seemed to glow. His eyes were drawn to her shapely tanned thighs as she stepped across the room. Her thighs were succulent and strong, and the slight muscles shivered underneath. He found his eyes drawn to the length of soft, sleek thigh.

'An African will run his hand up along that satiny skin later tonight. Will savour their warmth as his hand explores Angel's inner softness.' He shuddered, confused and aroused at the thought.

"Just how old is this Igwe Orizu?"

"He's forty five years old."

"Forty five! That makes him eleven years older than you!"

"I don't see that it makes a difference. You are six years older than me. He has his own business, indeed several businesses. His villa is luxurious, and he even has his own personal jet."

"I see, you meet a rich man, and off you trot."

"Mark, I know this must be difficult and confusing for you. If you want me to move out I quite understand, and I will move out tomorrow."

Mark's emotions were in turmoil, and he turned to look at Angel. She was beautiful; an inner radiance seemed to glow around her that he had not seen in years. The soft candlelight flickered shadows of her partially dressed body. At thirty four years old she had the shape and curves of a women in her early twenties, despite bearing two children.

How could he want such perfection out of his life? If only her brain matched her beauty! She was often confused and irrational, but it was impossible to look and not want! He loved her, and the fact that she was going to let another man do as he wished with her later, did not distract his love. Indeed a darkness inside him writhed its own coils of lust at the thought of his lovely wife being tipped on her back by that bull of an African she had taken as a lover.

That was the overwhelming impression that Igwe Orizu had left on Mark Scott as he had stumbled on his wife kneeling submissively before the rutting African. A bull of a man, with strong arms, and a powerful broad chest, as he held Angel in position in front of him and thrust into her. The sight of that long back clock slithering out of Angel had rooted Mark to the spot in shock. His wife had complained his cock was too big for her, but Igwe Orizu sported a true monster of a cock, as though he was the epitome of all white men's fears and paranoia.

Angel had just knelt there, her eyes glazed with lust as Igwe had ploughed his thick eleven inches in and out of her and tonight, in all probability, he was going to thrust it up Mark's wife again! His cock stirred even as the bitterness rose.

"What do you think? Should I wear this red dress tonight, or do you think it is too pretentious? It's years since I've dressed for a first date. I could wear this blue dress; it is far simpler, but I want I don't want him to think I am dressing down for him?"

Mark looked at his wife in disbelief. 'Is she really asking my advice on what to wear for a date with another man?' His emotions roiled and churned over and he snapped back at her.

"Why don't you wear that long white skirt, with the blue flowers, and the split in the middle! It will make it easy for him to slip his hands inside and fondle you!"

Angel stared at Mark without saying a word.

He stood and stalked out of the bedroom.

It was nearly half an hour later before Angel reappeared. Mark's heart skipped a beat when he saw she was wearing the white split skirt, with the flowering blue flowers. His own heart was racing as fought to control his emotions. Was his wife wearing that skirt to provoke him, or could she have taken him seriously?

Angel glanced over at Mark. "I was serious about moving out if you want me to?"

"I don't want you to move out. Angel I love you!" Angel nodded her in head as though thinking then looked over to her husband.

"Then you will just have to accept there will be more nights like this," she glanced again at Mark. "I really don't mind if you play with yourself while I am out."

Mark clenched his fists, and held them tightly by his side. Angel had noticed that his cock was straining his trousers. Whatever the confusion in his heart, his cock was at full erection; at the knowledge his lovely wife was going to be ravished by a big cocked African.

A horn peeped outside. Angel opened the door and stepped outside. Mark walked over to the drinks cabinet and reached for the brandy bottle and a glass. He stared at the two, and then he put them back. He was not going to resort to drink.

Tea, that was what he needed a good strong mug of tea! He headed for the kitchen.

Later, as the warm glow settled into his stomach, he stood looking out through the patio windows at the African night. The moon was up, and the stars were bright. He was restless in the villa and needed to walk outside and blow away the cobwebs that were ensnaring his thoughts. He returned to the kitchen and placed the mug by the sink, before opening the outside kitchen door. The two dogs came bounding up eager to see him, and he fondled their ears and rubbed their fur. At least the dogs were consistent in their affections, but why were they still locked in the compound outside the kitchen?

He opened the compound gate, not allowing the dogs to run free, until he had checked the villa gates. He closed the compound gate before walking around to the front of the building, and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a Lamborghini car parked in the drive!

His mind switched between the marvel of the car, and whose it was? There was a man in the car in the driver's seat who seemed to be sitting motionless. Mark was on his guard now, he had no gun as many white people had. He stepped to one side into the greater darkness of the open garage. If he moved a bit further he might get a better view, before he decided what to do.

He took a step behind one of the concrete pillars of the garage then looked around the far side of it. His stomach lurched again and his heart pounded as he saw movement in front of the black man sitting in the car. He recognised him now. It was Igwe Orizu, his wife's lover. Partly hidden by the car's body, and the steering wheel, he could just see the steady rise and fall of what could only be his wife's pretty head crouched over the loins of the African.

His stomach felt as though a hurricane was running wild through it. There just a few feet from him his wife was pleasuring her lover with her mouth. The stars in the sky seemed to swoop down and spin violently around in vortex. He leaned against the concrete pillar for support and struggled to contain and suppress the nearly swift swirl of strong currents surging through him.

He could only too easily imagine the pleasure the African was receiving from Angel's softly sucking mouth. It was not very often that Angel had been prepared to suck Mark's cock, however much she had delighted in clasping his head between her strong thighs! Nevertheless he was remembering the last time she had done this deed, and could only too well imagine the delight her soft mouth and nimble tongue would be giving to Igwe.

He thought of her sweet lips sliding down and clasping around the black hardness of the African's cock, he marvelled that she could accept the thickness that he had seen the other night. He shivered at the thought of her tongue sliding and licking and pleasuring that African's lust hardened manhood, as Angel's pretty white face bobbed in his lap.

The African's hand came up and Mark watched his grip the steering wheel hard. Then Angel's head popped up sharply striking the back of his arms holding the wheel. Igwe released one hand and placed it lightly on the back of her head.

"Don't you go spilling any on this suit you hot lovely cocksucker!"

Mark heard the words spill through the open window, and froze in a confused emotional anguish of shock and arousal.

He saw Igwe push her head lightly back down meeting little resistance as her tongue licked up his spunk. Angel was learning fast how to please him, but lacked many of the cock sucking skills of much younger women. Igwe switched on the car, and put it into gear. He carefully controlled the engines impulsive demand for power, as it surged through the gates into the empty dark street.

It had not been Angel's developing lingual skills that had set him off so much as the sight of her husband hiding in the garage watching. A white man doing nothing as his lovely wife sucked off his black cock, that had really got him going!

Mark watched the car ease through the gates, then he heard the roar as it surged down the street. Gathering himself together he headed back into the villa. He couldn't bear it any further. It was just too much. Inside the house he took out his straining cock, and clasped it firmly. He had to relieve himself. The image of his wife's luscious mouth receiving a jetting surge of hot salty African sperm was just too much, and he cursed as his cock jerked and spasmed and his seed spattered over the tiled floor of the kitchen.

In the garden Kaifus threw his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it under the heel of his boot. So the white madam had an African lover at last, it did not surprise him. In his experience working for white expatriate workers the wife had usually taken a lover within three months of arriving. He had wondered about Angel's churchgoing, organisation and self-control. Was that why it had taken her six months to succumb? Even the white women working at the British Embassy in his younger days had been hungry to experience black cock.

Kaifus closed and locked the gates, then headed over to release the dogs to guard the villa grounds. There were good dogs. Kaifus own cock stirred at the thought of the young daughter of the household. She was much more to Kaifus' taste, and his sixty year old black cock stirred as he thought of Amanda Scott. The nubile daughter of his employers would be a tasty treat. He wondered if he mother's infidelity would give him an opportunity. He grinned into the darkness.

Angel wondered at the sensory overload on her tongue. The meal had been superb. Igwe had taken her to a delightful restaurant in the wealthy suburb of Borrowdale. They had sat outside enjoying the African night, with a canopy overhead. The service had been of the same high quality as the food, and as they waited for desert Angel shivered in sexual anticipation. They were sitting at ninety degrees to each other and his hand was high under her skirt. Between her legs his strong black fingers circled and stroked the satiny inner white softness of her thigh.

She had forgotten the other restaurant guests. When they arrived she had suffered acute anxiety when she realised they were all white! Hardly surprising bearing in mind the upmarket nature of the restaurant, it had not entered her consciousness when she had gone out to eat with Mark that nearly everyone in the restaurants were white. Entering a restaurant with an African man had turned all heads her way! She had seen this before at the Sheraton as guests attending a Zanu-PF dinner came trooping in with pretty white escorts. Black men of forty to sixty plus years old with pretty white women from seventeen to twenty five years old on their arm.

She had flushed pink as Igwe escorted her to the table with his arm around her waist past staring white couples. His grin had been wide as he led her to the waiting reserved table. His eyes had swept from watching white couple to watching white couple assessing the reactions. He wondered how many of the women present already had African lovers. Then he had caressed Angel's curvy full bottom as she turned to sit.

The meal itself had been enlightening for Angel. She had known Igwe was intelligent, articulate and knowledgeable on philosophy and finer points of ethics. Those conversations at the philosophy circle had revealed little about their host. Tonight she learned more about his background. That he had fought in the guerrilla war as a commander against the Smith regime had come as a surprise. Angel knew little of such matters. They had not entered her narrow world in England.

She had been very impressed to learn of the firms he owned. One of these was an employment agency with links to agencies throughout the world. Two were consultancies that bid for government contracts in some vague way or another. A fourth was a construction company that he had explained was one of the largest in Zimbabwe. Another of his companies exported diamonds, though where he obtained diamonds in Zimbabwe she had no idea. The last surprise was that he owned three casino hotels, two at Victoria Falls and a third somewhere in the east of the country.

It had surprised her that this man had the same driving forceful personality as her father, though her father would have been apoplectic if he had known where the African had his hand at that moment. With that thought in mind she opened her legs a bit wider.

The Lamborghini he had picked her up in had been another wild surprise. She had never been in such a super car before. When after they left their villa a second Lamborghini had pulled in behind and followed. The casual way that Igwe explained that he needed his bodyguards to be able to keep up with him had shaken her to the core.

A man so wealthy he could buy a Lamborghini for his bodyguards! Wow! She had entered into a very different world. She looked at Igwe with wide adoring eyes. Igwe liked it when white women looked at him in that wide eyed look, and savoured the softness of her thigh under his hand.

The dessert was soon over, and Igwe was holding her chair back for her in a way that her husband had forgotten to do over the years. She smiled at him as he led her from the restaurant. The smile froze for a moment when his hand slid over and cupped her bottom in front of all the restaurant guests. She was not used to being touched and fondled in public and nudged Igwe with her elbow to discourage him.

Igwe was not to be discouraged. Fondling a white woman's bottom in public was his way of marking his turf! He slapped and fondled her round bottom and a squealing embarrassed Angel leaped in response to his playfulness.

Her stomach dropped as she realised Peter and Kathy Fletcher were two of the watching diners. Peter was of the engineers that worked with Mark, it could be so embarrassing for Mark for one of his work colleagues to see Angel out on a date with an African. Kathy had a strange grin on her face when she saw that Angel had recognised her.

Angel pushed aside such thoughts as her pussy started to leak in response to the way her bottom was being fondled and slapped. Outside the restaurant Igwe's bodyguard already had the car door open for her and Angel slipped free of Igwe's wandering hands and climbed into the car. Soon enough she would be naked in his bed, and her nipples thickened and her heart started to beat faster.

The car seemed to fly through the dark tree lined avenues of Harare. Igwe scared Angel when he drove straight past the odd red lights. There were few other vehicles on the road, but Angel's own reticence still had a hold on her. She just wished he would concentrate on his driving and not getting his hand back inside her skirt. Her husband may have been sarcastic in suggesting the split skirt but Igwe had been delighted with it!

In no time at all they arrived at his villa, where the gates had been opened in advance. Now they closed behind them, there would be no more instances of her husband interrupting them! Angel clenched her loins to hold in the flood of arousal threatening to erupt and stain the car seats. Once inside she was going to let this man have his way with her and she could barely constrain her sexual excitement.

The car drew to a halt and an African and the doors of the Lamborghini rose open to let her out, she swung her legs to one side and she rose to her feet. Her knees felt a little weak and she just wanted to get into Igwe's bed, and lie back. He would do the rest, in a very vigorous manner. She reached out a hand to steady herself against the car. Then Igwe was in front of her and swept her up in his arms and literally ran up the steps of his villa with her in his arms.

Angel giggled in delight. The man was in as much as a hurry as she was to get into bed! The realisation that he was probably already hard with lust for her, as he held her in his arms sent another hot pulse radiating out from her loins. Oh God! Tonight she did not want to be made love to. She just wanted to be fucked!

Igwe dropped her to her feet in his bedroom, and then she felt his teeth nibble on the soft skin of her neck. Her heart was going too fast as she leaned back into his strength. His hands came up from behind to cup her breasts, fondling and squeezing delightfully. She moaned in heat as eager fingers started stripping away her clothes. This man made her feel so weak and helpless as he stroked each newly exposed surface of bare white skin with his hungry black hands.

"Oh, yes, lick me," she breathed as his tongue licked greedily along her slender neck; she threw her head to one side baring her neck to his tongue and teeth. At this point if he had sprouted fangs her only response would have been to sigh her acquiescence.

Then her top dropped to the floor and his hands slipped easily underneath the loose brassiere to grasp the mounds of her excited breasts firmly. Her nipples strained against the palms of his hands as he toyed and played with her breasts in a manner that left her breathless. She looked down and saw the dark hands on the whiteness of her firm white orbs. The contrast excited her even further. It was so supremely wicked to allow this black man to have his way with her!

Then his hands were pushing down her skirt over her round hips and it slithered to the floor. She yelped with surprise and discomfort as strong hands simply pulled and strained at her French knickers, then they seemed to shred apart and another shiver went through her at the strength that would have been needed to shred even the light elastic.