A Libertine at Large Pt. 02.5

Part 2.5: A Slight Detour.

Any comparison with real life characters is purely coincidental. Only the names have been changed to protect the very guilty..........

I've been asked, how I know that Thelma had split with her husband and was later living with a refugee from Somalia.

Well......... we have coffee to thank for that.

I love a good cup of coffee.

I will hunt out places that serve a good cup. Good coffee, strong coffee, black and with no sugar or any adjuncts. Plain and simple strong bitter coffee.

I heard that there were new cafés owned by some refugees in town, in one particular area.

So on a quiet afternoon, or Saturday morning you could find me sitting at a table with something thick, dark, and bitter.....(Insert your own joke!) whilst I perused the Guardian.

I luxuriated in the differing ways that non-European's would produce my caffeinated high.

One place that became a regular haunt for me was called Qaxwa, and I liked how that coffee hit the spot, and after a while I raised a regular chat session with the owner: Saadiq.

Saadiq liked to talk about football, and various aspects of English life. I tried to help him where I could, about English manners, stances etc. He was in his late 40s and a very intelligent and charismatic man.

His spoken English was good, but it lacked the nuances a native speaker would use, he often queried me on such things as the correct usage of such terms as "easy as pie" and "a piece of cake", and I looked forward to our frequent chats.

He loved smutty English jokes, ones that had been circulating here for many years, but were new to him. It helped him understand some of the sexual mores in England. When he had found a new one, or I told him one that particularly liked, he would guffaw with great gusto. I heard that laugh many times.

He told me that since he had arrived in England he'd enjoyed how English women had reacted to him. He'd particularly enjoyed the way women dressed, their short skirts, their heels, and their stockings. Things he was not used to in his homeland. He was also the willing recipient of their extremely lose morals, especially compared to the more chaste Muslim women he had known.

I laughed and agreed.

His words were often peppered by his colourful opinions of Christian women, which he had initially formulated when he had first studied at an English University in his 20s, before returning to Somalia.

He then, quite without affectation, told me about various English girls who had been very happy to welcome him, as a refugee, with open thighs. We swapped stories about our conquests.

Once we'd found our common ground he was delighted to share details with me.

For easiness (I hope) I've written his comments without the inevitable stumbles and missteps a non-native English speaker makes, but I know you'll understand what he meant. I've taken his words and formulated them into this narrative so it reads more like a novelised sequence of events than an interview.

Since settling in England he'd found that many Christian churches had outreach programmes, advocating pastoral care for refugees. Some families invited him to their homes for a meal, and hospitality. Even some single women invited him home.

He was confused at first. In his homeland, if a single woman invited a man to visit her, then she was offering her body to him. And as a visitor to our country, he expected to take full advantage of that.

He told me of one who had seemed very drawn to him. Each time he visited the church she had made a point of talking to him, and over time they revealed a little bit more of themselves to each other. He talked about the civil war in his country, and his hurried escape, and finally how he arrived in this town.

The girl told him she had become very active with the church after her marriage broke up, spending a great deal of her time and energy with their outreach programmes.

Her body language gave her away. Her lips slightly parted, her sideway glances, the times she 'accidentally' brushed against him or touched his arm. The slight downward tilt of her head when she spoke to him. Add in her rapt attention when he spoke to her...well he was sure this was an open door that he would be pushing at.

He then let slip her name, Thelma....

I mentioned the surname of the Thelma I had known, and one or two of the particular things I knew about her, (including her devotion to her church) and sure enough........it was the same woman.

He was even more delighted that he had met me when he talked about how Thelma had been explicit that it was that second boss (me) that had had given Thelma her first real sexual awakenings.

I confessed that I'd just showed her how to please me, but that I'd had a sneaking suspicion that others would benefit down the line, and I was glad that he appreciated my efforts.

"That laid the groundwork for my success with her" he said.

He asked me if I was interested in hearing the highlights of his encounters with the girl we had both 'known'?

I said I was very interested, the Thelma I had known had been delightful company.

He then set out what had been going on for the past 9 months or so.

Inevitably, having lacked much physical attention since her husband left, she was vulnerable to a concerted attack on her defences. He sensed this and during one of their chats in the church he pushed this issue by inviting himself to her home. "I will call round and visit you tomorrow morning. You can make me some English tea" he told her.

"She seemed a bit confounded" he said "a bit tongue-tied but she soon agreed".

The very next day he was knocking on her door at 8.45 AM for what was an agreed 9.00 AM meeting. Hoping to catch her a little off balance.

He succeeded.

She answered the door, a little flushed, a shy almost guilty half smile on her face, and admitted him into her home. He watched as she walked in front of him, a black pleated skirt that fell to her knees, a red blouse, red heels, and what he anticipated were black stockings... and as he followed her he realised those stockings were seamed. Her hair was in her usual pony tail, hanging to just below her shoulder blades.

He knew enough about English etiquette for her clothes to strike him as a bit overdressed for this early in the day, as was the makeup she was wearing. She hardly ever wore makeup to the church events, but today there was eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick.

Saadiq said he had not been in her home 20 minutes before she was on her knees giving him head, and smudging that lipstick.

Well, she had shown him into the lounge and made him a cup of tea to start with. They had been sitting on the sofa together as Saadiq told her how much he liked English women. She looked so nervous he said, trembling a little, and she did not attempt to resist him as his large brown hand stroked her nyloned knee, the hemline of her pleated skirt just above that knee.

Pushing the hem up along her thigh was met with no resistance, and he smiled inwardly as the tops of her stockings came into view, confirming his suspicions.

Her ready acceptance of his forced invitation to her home, more makeup than he had ever seen her wear before, the clothes (especially the stockings) all added up to one thing.

This is a girl expecting to be fucked today.

One hand on her thigh, the other round her shoulder, as he pulled her towards him. The kiss was not resisted either, nor was his practiced removal of her clothes. She even assisted, standing to let him unzip and unhook her skirt, after he had unbuttoned her blouse. The skirt and the blouse pooled on the floor, topped with her red panties and red bra.

"Nice" he told her "not bad for 40".

She reddened, she was well aware of her advancing years. The praise and the put down balanced just right to keep her off guard.

He let her keep those thigh-high stockings and her red heels on, and she was happy to slip to her knees, and do as requested, and unzip him.

He kicked his shoes off and she helped him slide his jeans off, showing that he had had gone commando today, his semi hard erection springing out in anticipation.

She reached out to accept his cock in her hands, looking up at him, as those slim pale fingers stroked up and down his long, dark brown dick. She licked the tip....and then down the shaft...meeting his gaze from her kneeling position with a sense of wonder in her eyes. Was he was happy with her? She'd dressed hoping to please him.

He stroked her cheek and nodded.

She was so eager he said........she had not had a man for a few months, and he was the lucky guy who was the recipient of all her pent up need.

Her words came out in a staccato rush (in-between licking his cock and sucking on the head)........a gushing stream of emotional and heartfelt, long constrained passion.

She told him that she had been drawn to him from the first meeting, she could tell he was a decision maker, a leader. And that aroused her in a way she had not been aroused for some time. Her body had ached for him, she had found it difficult to be dignified around him.

His hand played softly in her hair.

"I could tell my little mutanaka"

Her submission, her acquiescence was the fuel for his ardour, for his passion as he stiffened in her hand.

She knelt and gave the cock in her hands her rapt attention. Her tongue twirling around the head, licking the tip, kissing from the tip down to his balls. Lips coordinated and sucking.......wrapped around his dick and slowly sliding down.......then back up.....then back down.........slowly increasing her pace as she felt that thick meaty spike harden and throb in her mouth. Her eyes constantly on his, never breaking that gaze.

But a sedate polite blowjob wasn't what was on Saadiq's agenda for today. He was going to get a lot more out of Thelma than she could ever have expected.

"My hand was in her hair" he said "in her pony tail and I started to use that as handle to fuck her mouth. Standing to tower over her, and push her head back as I pushed into her mouth. She was responding so well I knew I could push this further and further. She gagged on my cock and her eyes were wide with lust and submission. She snorted through her nose, trying to inhale air as my dick blocked her throat. I held her tight to my groin, her nose in my pubic hairs as her eyes began to glaze over.......then I pulled out.........let her gulp in some air, and then pushed myself back into her throat. I repeated this a few more times as the drool ran from her mouth, and she made muffled mewling noises.

Then I decided to cum on her face he said, so she knew exactly who was in control here.

I held her close to my spurting cock as I stroked myself over her face, three, four good spurts, my cum landing on her nose, on her brow, in her hair, and over her tits. She screwed her face up as those thin white ropes lashed over her face, coating her, marking her. She did try to move away, but my hand was tight in her hair, my foot was between her thighs, and she could not escape.

"Good girl, take it like a good girl".

She was whimpering...

"I leant down, and with my other hand I slapped her tits. Once, twice three times. Not that those are very big tits".

"32b" she had told him, apologising for not being bigger.

Apologising is a big indicator of a submissive.

He slapped her on the arse and told her to clean herself up, and meet him in her bedroom.

He lay on his back on the bed as she worked on restoring him with her mouth, tongue and lips.

He made her tell her about every cock she had stroked, sucked and that had fucked her. In detail. Stroking her hair, her cheek, telling her what a good 'eahira' she was.

From losing her virginity to her married boss in her first real job, to the one boyfriend before she met the man she married, to her only adultery (with another boss, i.e. me) and two very brief and unsatisfying encounters since the split with her husband.

He then proceeded to fuck her brains out for the rest of the day.

On top of her, her slim and shapely legs spread wide, her needy cunt almost sucking him in. His thick brown fingers digging into the pale flesh just above her stocking tops and pushing those thighs wide open. Biting her neck and leaving large love bites there, as they thrashed at each other. She rose to meet his thrusts as he pushed his thick Muslim cock into her. She was so tight he said, so underused, it was a pleasure to stretch her Christian cunt. Cumming in her was like exploding in a soft and tight warm velvet glove, and as his spunk spewed into her, she shuddered and jerked, spasming on his cock as her own orgasm flooded her body, her cunt sucking and milking the cum from his cock.

Lying, holding each other as breath returned to them both....

I rolled onto my back, and invited her to crawl between my legs again, and clean me with her mouth.

She wrinkled her nose at that, but my stern look was enough to make her compliant and lapping away at our combined juices. My hand stroked her cheek as I praised her, told her what a good girl she was.

Suitably restored and putting her onto all fours, head buried in a pillow, thighs wide as he stroked his hard dick along her very wet and shiny slit. Holding her thighs in his hands as he slowly penetrated her soft warm cunt, enveloped by that silky smooth sleeve. She pushed back as he pushed in, rotating her arse as he skewered her. When fully inserted within her hole, he leant back, with his hands behind his back letting her push and rotate, providing the spike for her to impale herself on, urging her to fuck herself on his rampant and fully engorged spear.

"Her cunt, as you well know my friend, is like hot butter, like a warm silky and velvety sheathe, made for a real man to fill her and fuck her. She so loves the cock, she makes you think of all the possibilities with her".

He tested her back passage with a finger.....then two fingers......she writhed and exclaimed loudly "oh no....no....no...........not there......... no!"

He was laughing loudly as her bucking and writhing combined with the tightness of her cunny was enough to make him cum in her again, flooding her with yet more copious amounts of spunk. Now holding her tight to his groin as he spurted each volley of cum into her warm and accepting hole.

He pulled out slowly......his cum seeping from her ravaged gash, his cock shiny with his cum and her secretions. This time when he offered it to her mouth to clean she did not hesitate, opening her lips and drawing him in, her tongue lapping at their combined sexual frisson, her eyes shiny with lust and submission.

"I don't mind telling you my friend, after that I needed a rest....her needs were so extreme and she had already made me cum three times that day. I told her to tidy herself up and make me a meal. She's such a domesticated soul she was off into the kitchen and busy with pots and pans. I took a shower, then went down to find her working in her heels, the stockings and an apron. She was glowing with a deep sense of achievement, of being what she always knew she really was. A girl who needed a strong man to guide and fuck her".

We ate our meal of steak and chips, and then it was back to the bedroom.

I told her to kneel on the bed, like before, arse in the air, head down, and thighs wide apart which she did with eagerness.

It was quite a sight..............her cunt was still puffy and red from the two times I had already fucked it today. You could see a couple of handprints where I had 'urged' her on by spanking her pale white bottom.

I told her that it was now time for her other hole to be offered to me.

"She tried to talk me out of fucking her arse" he told me "but I had my belt in my hand and I laid it across her backside twice. Not very hard, but hard enough for her to understand I would not tolerate any disobedience.

As you know my friend, a girl needs to be constantly disciplined, to make them feel wanted and appreciated.

She told me only one man had fucked her arse before, and that had been a few years ago.

"I'd brought lube with me, as I was convinced this would be on the menu today".

Suitably lubed, he pressed his meat against that puckered darkstar, slowly working his dick into her.

"Reach back and spread your cheeks girl".

She did so, with some trepidation.

It was tight, and he took his time and buggered her with great pleasure, squeezing his length into that sucking hole.

Her teeth clenched as she felt him hit home. Now he was fully inside her, he began to piston in and out of her anal cavity, his balls slapping against her puffy cunt lips, spanking her arse with each hand as he set up his rhythm, and she responded with whimpers and with little mewling noises.

Telling her that she needed someone like him who would treat her like a whore and use her as he wished.

She could only agree with him. This was what she had needed for so long.

Soon, almost too soon, his cum flooded her arse, as he finally lost control, his cum gushing into that tightest of her holes as her rectum tightened around his length. When he was spent he slowly withdrew from her puckered and gaping hole.

"She was so responsive, so eager, like a little puppy. She seemed to have been neglected for some time.

She could not do enough for me".

He made it a regular thing, 2-3 times a week he'd call and fuck her for a few hours, and he introduced her to regular spankings, the odd time with his belt. Correcting and disciplining her.

She responded so well, learning to kneel by my side, thighs spread wide apart, as I sat in a chair, my hand in her hair, or on the back of her neck.

After he had her subjugated her he then moved into her place, lock stock and barrel, and he'd been living with her for some months. He hoped I would accept his invitation to come to their house the next evening for a meal. He'd just tell her to prepare an extra place for a friend he was bringing home with him, but he would not tell her who. It would be a surprise!

He had also introduced her to threesomes.

She was reluctant at first, but by now was more than willing to do so.

The first man he had shared her with was another immigrant: His father in law.

I raised an eyebrow........."where is your wife?"

His eye's darkened.....the firm real emotion I had seen him show.

"The war.........so much....... "

His voice tailed off.........and I did not press him, he was visibly moved.

When he recovered he told me that he had escaped first to Kenya, then via contacts his wife's family had with the British Embassy in Nairobi he and his Father in Law were granted permission to move to England. He hinted that his Father in Law (Mahad) had been involved in the black market (and by inference, so had he) and it was access to the money made from this that had helped him buy the café we were sitting in.

He had called at Thelma's house one Saturday afternoon with Mahad, and the three of them had been sitting in the lounge, drinking tea. The talk had been quite casual. She had been expecting Saadiq to call, so she knew to be dressed nicely.

Thelma had just thought he was introducing her to the family that he had in England, and had not at first realised she was soon going to be spit-roasted.

At this his face brightened again. Much safer territory for him.

"You know" he said to me "that a woman needs a firm hand, clear direction and lots of cock. You must make sure she has plenty of all three. I took her into the kitchen and gave her clear direction on what I expected from her this day, with my hands on her shoulders I looked directly down into her eyes and told her that Mahad and I were both going to fuck her tonight".

She knew I was being very serious.