Scott's Situation - Cover

Scott's Situation

Copyright© 2014 by Mustang

Chapter 18

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 18 - An innocent evening walk placed Scott and Jenny in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then suddenly, "Trust no one, absolutely no one..." they were warned by a dying man. Now being hunted for murder, can Scott and Jenny evade the ruthless National Police and certain death? Can they deceive corrupt and cold blooded border guards on their three country quest to prevent a political assassination?

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/ft   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Tear Jerker   Incest   Mother   Daughter   Orgy   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Pregnancy   Exhibitionism   Public Sex  

Scott awoke to a tangled mess of more bodies than the morning before. Jenny and Afia twisted around each other over his legs. Sula and Monique’s breasts were warming against his side and chest.

“Don’t you know there’s another bed that’s empty?” He said it as if anyone could hear.

“But then we wouldn’t have the fun of sleeping together,” Jenny muttered.

“I didn’t know anyone was awake. It is eight o’clock, and we have to decide what Monique is to wear before nine.”

The new family quickly showered, and Scott shaved.

“Now we must decide what Monique is to wear to meet the mayor and later, the president,” Jenny said, rubbing her chin in thought.

“Her short skirt from last night is okay to wear for us but is much too brief for such dignitaries,” Afia added.

“I know, the blue skirt and vest I stole on our trip!” Jenny found it among other clothes. Monique tried it on, and it seemed a little big in the waist. Afia found several safety pins and snugged the waistline to fit her better.

“It’s still a little short but will have to do. Your top is very low and shows a lot of tit. Don’t bend over too much,” Jenny laughed. “Wearing the jacket will cover a little more.”

“But I want to show a lot of tit like you all do. Do I have to wear panties?” She protested.

“Your white top shows us all plenty of tit, and no, you don’t have to wear panties, none of us are.”

“And I have a dress she might be able to wear to see the president,” Sula added.

On the car ride to the mayor’s office, everyone assumed the same sitting position as the night before. But it was now daylight, and the driver was constantly looking in his inside rearview mirror at plenty of wifely cleavages.

Surely the driver could see up Monique’s short skirt as she sat astride Scott’s legs. She gave Scott an impish smile, guiding his right hand under her short hem. She spread her legs wider, and several of his fingers slid inside her freshly shaved pussy.

“You are being very naughty,” he whispered.

“I am wanting us to get an early start on the day,” she smiled back, urging his fingers deeper.

“So you want the driver to see my fingers in your pussy?” He challenged.

“Uhh, umm, okay,” she admitted. Scott turned the teasing on her. He pulled her skirt up to her waist and spread her legs even more.

“Starting the fun already, are we?” Jenny smiled, spying her exposed pussy.

“Scott, I didn’t think you’d be that bold!” She exclaimed quietly into his ear. Monique smiled at him, her eyes widening as she felt two fingers enter her.

“I just hope the driver doesn’t have an accident watching me fuck your pussy instead of driving,” he joked. Monique hid her face in his shoulder as she felt his fingers pleasing her.

“I must be careful what I tease you about.”

“I’m just turning your tease on to you. I mean you no harm.”

“I know and understand that you would never be mean to me.” Jenny and Afia both leaned forward to examine his fingers. Sula was in mid-sentence when she turned her head and stopped speaking. She smiled, seeing Scott pleasing Monique.

“I can see what kind of day this one is going to be!” She reached her right hand back and rubbed her leg.


The breakfast with the mayor and other city leaders was quite interesting. Sula and Monique sat on either side of Scott, with Jenny and Afia together. Naturally, the male eyes were on Scott’s three, or maybe temporarily four, wives. They were presented with numerous gifts from several companies and businesses.

They enjoyed a meal, were stuffed full, and were given a tour of the city from the seat of a helicopter! Sula and Monique had never been in a plane of any sort and were amazed at the breathtaking view below them.

Driven back to their hotel, Monique let her exposed pussy be the driver’s distraction as Scott’s fingers gently caressed her insides.

Scott complained that he hadn’t been able to walk around outside since arriving in Accra. Jenny and Afia escorted him, Sula, and Monique to a nearby shopping mall, and it was the same as any large mall in Canada or the United States.

He noticed that Jenny and Afia always walked in front while Sula and Monique each held his hand. He took Jenny’s and Afia’s hands and brought them together.

“You are my wives and long-time lovers; let people stare should they not agree with you holding hands. Be careful if you kiss, for they don’t understand your love for each other,” he said.

Several people did stare as Jenny and Afia happily swung their interlocked hands back and forth. Sula and Monique were happy to be walking in public with Scott. He figured that the younger pair felt more secure being close to him, while Jenny and Afia, being much older, could survive on their own if they had to.

“It is difficult not to keep looking at the beautifully shaped assess of our wives,” Sula commented as they followed behind.

“Thank you, Scott, for making me feel just like I’m a member of your family,” Monique beamed.

“It’s my pleasure. I can’t imagine having a fourth wife when I can barely keep three satisfied,” he joked, and they all laughed.

“That’s what the Viagra is for!” Jenny teased.

“I may need an implant on my cock to make it always stay hard!” He added to the fun.

“I’m sure we can find plenty of herbs that will help you stay hard and headache-free,” Sula suggested.

Several people recognized them and, with hearty handshakes and thank yous, asked them to pose for pictures.

The group returned to their room exhausted, and soon sleep would meet the rest of the day. Jenny and Afia used his earlier suggestion and shared the spare bed. Scott was in heaven, nestled between young Sula and a younger Monique. Sleep was the last thing on their minds, and they enjoyed Monique’s second threesome.

They took turns enjoying Scott fucking them doggy as they ate each other’s pussies. They formed an erotic triangle, kissing each other while taking turns fucking him and riding his tongue. Scott could hear moaning coming from the other room. He leaned forward to see his other two loves in an erotic sixty-nine, both cumming at the same time.

“So much for getting any sleep!” He kidded as Sula and Monique cuddled against his side. Soon, they all drifted off.


The alarm Scott had set for five blared music too loudly. He shut off the radio and stirred the others from their sleep, and the groups switched partners for another sensual shower. Except for Jenny’s and Afia’s catering gowns, all their tops were either low-cut or fit nice and snug. Their dresses or skirts were also short.

Sula seemed to be the resident fashion consultant, and she coordinated their wardrobes. “My whole world is in these three suitcases,” she said, sorting through her clothes. “Ahh, there it is!” She took out a neatly folded, printed dress. “Here, Monique, try this on.”

She slid the dress over her naked body, smoothed the material, and turned around. It had a white top with red, loose pleats low on the hips and white and blue triangles pointing in every direction. “It does have buttons all the way down,” Sula smiled.

“Hmmm, the last time I wore that dress, I didn’t have boobs,” she remarked on Monique’s two bumps. The front was scooped low, exposing the top three-quarters of her tits.

“I’m not wearing the blue jacket to cover my tits while you three get to show yours,” Monique mildly protested.

“Just don’t bend over near anyone or they’ll be able to see your stomach,” Sula kidded.

“The hem is very short, but the fullness of the pleats makes it look nice on you. You have yourself a new dress, Monique.”

“I can keep it?! Thank you so much, Sula!” She hugged her tight.

“Yes, you can, but when you’re not around us, you should wear a top that covers just as much of your sweet-tasting titties.” Monique undid several buttons on the top and at the hem.

“Just one top button, for now,” Jenny said, doing up the lower two.

Sula wore the same purple dress from yesterday, while Jenny wore white and Afia wore light blue. “I’m glad I packed most of my dresses. They fit us all like a second skin.” She smoothed her hands from her breasts down to her hips.

Jenny came to Scott, who was adjusting his tie. “You look so dashing and handsome. I think we have ourselves a good choice in a husband!” She laughed, kissing him.

The phone rang in the room. It was David. He said the president’s car would be there soon. He instructed Scott, Jenny, and Sula to wear their Order of the Star of Ghana medals.

In the lobby, there were scattered cheers and applause as several recognized the family. Many others asked for their photos as well.

“I feel like a Hollywood celebrity going to the Oscars with my leading ladies, and I’m not joking!” Scott remarked.

“Wow, just like a real movie star!” Monique commented on the vast interior and U-shaped seating of the long car.


The president’s limousine came to a stop under the canopy of his residence, where David and Mr. Mackenzie greeted them. Their eyes lit up as three, now four, sexy-looking women exited the long car.

“This is Monique Tourey (Tour-ray). “She’s our special guest staying with us,” Scott explained.

“Photographs with President Grunchi and his wife are planned. He will meet with Scott, Jenny, and Sula for a few minutes, then dinner will be served in their private residence,” David explained.

President Grunchi’s Executive Assistant had arranged for journalists from the TV stations and newspapers to attend. The figures of the four women were photographed many times. “Don’t lean over or you’ll be tomorrow’s headline news,” Scott joked to his wives.

Their cheeks ached from so much smiling, and dots filled their eyes from countless camera flashes. The Order of the Star of Ghana medals shone brightly around their necks, nestling between the girls’ breasts. Brief speeches were made by the president, with Scott speaking a few appreciative words on their behalf.

Next, Mr. Mackenzie escorted them to the president’s office. They marvelled at the simple yet distinctive cultural displays adorning the room. They sat on the two couches facing each other, while he sat in his high-back chair.

“I will dispose of our business, and then we’ll eat a handsome meal,” the president’s deep voice began. “Your exploits are remarkable, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Hollywood doesn’t call on you for a movie about your escape,” his broad, white smile joked.

“I am running for re-election next year, and the pundits are most favourable towards my return to honour our people. My country would have been thrown into chaos if I had died, making it vulnerable to attacks from our enemies. The heroics of you three have saved Ghana countless millions of Ghanaian Ceti dollars.

“I am not going to debate the role each of you three played in my remaining alive; one is just as important as the other. In consultation with our Attorney General and Financial Minister, I, on behalf of all the people of Ghana, wish to reward each of you with three million, three hundred thousand Ghanaian Ceti dollars!”

Scott looked wide-eyed at the President, then his wives, then David and Mr. Mackenzie.

“Today, that amount converts to approximately one million dollars in Canadian money,” David mentioned. “Congratulations, as a family, you now have a bank account of approximately three million dollars!”

The group had to control their enthusiasm to scream out, “Mr. President, your offer is far too gracious!” Jenny said.

“Thank you, President Grunshi; your gift is very much appreciated by us and will be put to good use!” Sula replied, not ashamed to take the reward.

“I understand you have chosen Morocco as your new homeland due to its marriage laws favouring you and your three wives,” the president said.

“Financial matters must be transparent for our people, and your bank account will remain tax-free as long as the money remains in Ghana. You can withdraw monies as needed, and it will maintain a marginal amount of interest for you,” the Financial Minister stated. He handed them each a bank card with their names and account numbers.

“We will combine our resources to be one with our family,” Sula replied.


“I regret you both were not included in our meeting,” Scott comforted Afia and Monique.

“The Ghanaian government has awarded us approximately ten million Ceti dollars for helping to save President Grunshi’s life!” Jenny grinned. Afia did the shrieking for the whole family.

Escorted to the presidential residence, a grand meal was served. His wife sat beside Scott, and he had to be careful to watch his glances down her low-cut dress. Jenny was on his left and assured him the strange-looking items served to him were safe to eat.

Scott was questioned about life in Canada, as was Sula about her home in Liberia. The meals were completed, and the president’s wife excused herself. She kissed her husband’s forehead and left.

The conversation continued for another twenty minutes on several different topics, many of which were outside of Scott’s realm of knowledge. President Grunshi mentioned that he and his wife had once visited Canada and met the Prime Minister. The chatter was then interrupted.

Mrs. Grunshi has requested Mr. Richardson’s presence, it was announced.

“Please, Jenny, Sula, and Afia, regale me about your adventures,” the President asked.

Scott shrugged his shoulders, wondering why he was being summoned by the president’s wife. He was escorted up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway to a closed door. The man knocked on the door, waited a moment, then opened it.


“Ahh, Mr. Richardson, Scott, thank you for attending to my presence. Come and stand by me,” she asked, holding her left hand out to him. He gazed at her profile as he stood close to her. She was tall, thin, beautifully looking, and elegant, with the smell of expensive, fragrant perfume. Her hair had been released from its tight bun and rested on her shoulders.

“You do your country’s colours justice in your beautiful-looking dress,” he remarked. The red, yellow, and green zigzag pattern complimented her slender figure.

She gazed out the large bedroom window at the tropical-like gardens below them. “Or are you gazing at what is underneath my beautiful-looking dress? I trust your monetary reward is sufficient?” She continued to look out the window.

“Sufficient is an understatement, Ma’am. We are completely overwhelmed by your country’s generous gift to us. Becoming a millionaire, for a normal person like me, is the experience of a lifetime.”

“I am pleased,” she said, returning her gaze to the yard. “I look out across our own little secluded oasis and see that it is normal. I gaze at the bustling road traffic off in the distance and see everything is still normal. However, this would not be the same situation had my husband been murdered. Our country would have lost one of its greatest leaders, and I would now be a widow. My husband is a good man, a loving father, and is beloved by his population. He has transformed Ghana into a respectable country, despite the notion that it is laden with women scammers, who are most likely European and have never set foot in my country.”

She turned to Scott and caressed his left cheek. “The monetary reward is from the people; what I offer you now are my thanks as a wife and a mother for saving my husband’s life.” She slipped her dress straps off her thin shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She stood naked before him, vulnerable yet willing.

“I have been a faithful wife to my husband, and offering you my body for your complete pleasure is the only true way I can personally thank you.” She took his right hand and placed it on her left breast. She leaned closer, cupped her hand behind his neck, and kissed him.

Scott hesitated. “You fear retribution from my husband if he were to catch us fucking?”

“I think my feet would leave the floor with his massive hands lifting me by my throat!”

“You are very humorous,” she laughed. “We will not be interrupted, for my husband knows you will be pleasuring your cock inside my pussy.”

Her perfumed body was entrancing, and he returned her kiss and gripped her tit gently.

“My name is Serwa,” she offered as he kissed her neck.

She took off his suit jacket, and he loosened his tie over his head. Their hands met at the middle button; his shirt is now on the floor. She smoothed her hand over his shoulders, chest, and stomach. “I have never experienced a white man fucking me before.”

Serwa knelt and unfastened his pants. She pulled his underwear down, releasing his cock. His balls were in her hands as she stroked them and then sucked it in stages into her mouth.

He felt her mouth light up his cock as he watched her in and out motions. She pulled down his pants, and he kicked off his shoes. His cock proudly protruded as she smiled up at him. “Your wives must be very happy.”

Scott brought Serwa to her feet, his now-hard cock poking her stomach as they kissed. His tongue traced her shoulder to her breasts, then down her stomach to her bush. Her pussy hair also carried a heavenly fragrance. He caressed her ass cheeks, motioning her closer. His tongue probed as well as it could from this position. He felt her hold his head toward her.

They embraced again. “The window has eyes,” Serwa said, leading Scott to the bed. She lay down, and he moulded against her body. She kissed her way down his chest, and she again tasted his cock. She looked straight into his eyes as she sucked on him. Scott urged her to turn, and she straddled his shoulders. His hands caressed her ass cheeks, pulling her lower.

He inhaled her scent deeply and buried his face in her pussy. His tongue searched through her short hair and separated her wrinkled lips. Her lips yielded to his tongue as it explored her deeper. Her body naturally jolted as the tip brushed her clit.

“Ordinarily, I would want to savour this moment, but we do not have much time,” Serwa hinted, turning her back onto the bed. She spread her legs and arms, waiting for her lover.

She bent her knees as he settled between her legs. She caressed his cock, guiding it to its rewarded home. “I can tell from the gazes of your wives that you are an excellent lover.”

“In my most unbelievable situation, I have been blessed with two, soon to be three, beautiful, sexy wives.”

The head of his cock inside, she urged him deeper, with her hand to his ass. “Fuck me, my lover!” She whispered sensually. Scott began at a slow, steady pace that increased. He fondled her tits and she offered her nipples to his lips. They breathed heavily through their noses as they shared sensual kisses.

“I’m fucking the president’s wife! Surely the death penalty is imposed for this crime of passion!” He envisioned.


Five minutes of sensual, steady thrusting had Scott on the brink, but he didn’t want it to end this quickly. He paused, then pulled away from her, turning around. He lowered his head, his dark hair matted with their juices. He inhaled her scent once more and licked and sucked on her pussy. His fingers curled and touched her special spot, causing an instant reaction.

Serwa began moaning, wiggling her pelvis and hips in response to his deft tongue and fingers. “You are pleasing me in ways I have never experienced before,” she sighed.

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