Black Lust Ch. 01

(Author's Note: I'm female, but the main character is a guy, seeing his girlfriend through jealous, helpless eyes... Kind of my thing. =) The first chapter is a setup for all the wickedness to come. Hope you enjoy!)

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My girlfriend's name is Molly. She's Irish, nineteen, and for the last three months, we've been keeping the most fucked up secret either of us can imagine.

Our problem first started when I took her to my uncle's farm. He lives in South Africa, not far from the border with Zimbabwe, and he's one of the few white farmers still in business down there, with a huge staff of black African workers. We visited in the summer, late August, and the humid heat was an absolute bitch. I spent the entire time sweating. Molly was as pale as any Irish girl ever was, and made sure she packed enough high-factor sunblock like it was the most precious resource on Earth.

On our first night there, jetlag sent Molly crashing early, before the sun had even set. I stayed up with my uncle, drinking on the porch, looking over his fields and to the forested hills beyond.

"Did you say you're going walking up there?" my uncle gestured with his beer can.

I sure wasn't going to sit around watching shitty foreign TV, or helping on his farm. This was supposed to be a vacation. "That's the plan. Molly's big into hiking."

My uncle took another swallow of his drink. "Where'd you find her? Sweet little Irish thing like that."

"She came over to the States to study. A sociology scholarship."

He snorted at that. "All about helping people and understanding them, huh? Some men are just assholes, Luke. Helping them is a waste of fucking time, if you ask me."

I hadn't asked him, and I didn't much care about yet another racist conversation about how lazy his black workers were. I was glad Molly was asleep; she'd have argued with him until dawn if she heard him speak like this. Racism was one of her hot buttons. That was Molly in a nutshell: solving the world's problems, one smile at a time.

"You want to be careful with her," he said, tossing his empty can in the trash and popping a fresh one.

"Careful? Why?"

He gave me a look that called me an idiot without him needing to say it. "You ever read the crime statistics for South Africa? This isn't the West. The men are like fucking animals. Forty percent of the women here have been raped at least once. And the boys love their gang rape here, kid. It's part of the culture. They call it 'jackrolling'. It's just a fucking game to them."

I wasn't sure what to say. Maybe he was telling the truth, and maybe he was just trying to squeeze in a few more racist cracks. I drained my own beer and reached for another.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," I said quietly.

"Oh, yeah?" He seemed more amused than annoyed, but his words still made me shiver. "You take that lovely girl too far from the farm, and you'll see how bad it can be." He took a drink, shaking his head. "Just look at her. Well done on scoring a beauty, but you better watch where you go while you're here. Especially up in those hills. That's close to the border."

Now I knew he was lying. Tensions with Zimbabwe had died down a few years back; it'd been all over CNN.

"Whatever," I said, not wanting an argument. "It'll be fine."

I was grateful when Molly interrupted us a few moments later. She walked out onto the porch in the sweltering evening heat, offering us both a smile, still looking sleepy.

"You coming to bed?" she asked, her soft voice and accent forever making her stand out, no matter whether she was in downtown New York or here in the middle of nowhere.

"Yeah," I said. "In a few."

She kissed my cheek and headed back inside. I watched her bare legs beneath the oversized shirt she wore. Like most girls, she considered it her God-given right to steal her boyfriend's shirts and sleep in them. She was tall for a girl, about five-nine, with her legs slender and toned from horseriding back in Ireland. Her lush red hair was down around her shoulders, like it usually was when she was ready for bed.

My uncle watched her leave, too. He paid as much attention as I did, and gave a low whistle once she was out of sight.

"Those legs..." he chuckled.

"Her father owns a stable. She rides a lot, and walks a lot."

"And those fucking tits," he added. "What's the reason those things are so nice?"

I shrugged. "Luck of the Irish. How am I supposed to know?"

"Big and juicy for such a skinny little thing. They bounce real pretty."

"Yeah, yeah." I liked guys to look at her, to desire what I had, but he was getting annoying now. "I'm headed to bed. Night, Uncle Mark."

"Sleep well, eh? And remember what I said."

Racist asshole, I thought.

"Sure," I said.

* * *

We went for our first walk the next day. The afternoon sun had no mercy at all, but we dressed for the weather.

My uncle saw us on the porch. While Molly was busy checking her bag, my uncle nodded over to my distracted girlfriend, and shook his head at me meaningfully.

"I'll send a guide up with you," he said. It was obvious why: as soon as he saw what she was wearing, he started to worry about what trouble we'd find. She didn't look like danger to me. Molly was in tight little jean shorts that left her slender legs bare and hugged the peachy curve of her ass, but she was hardly dressed as a slut. It was summer in Africa, for fuck's sake. What did he expect, jeans?

Her sneakers were white and new, but we'd written them off already -- neither of us cared about messing our shoes up on a hike. Her top was a thin cotton blouse tied up in a knot above her belly button, leaving her navel bare to the light breeze. Her tummy piercing, a little emerald in a gold ring, winked in the sun. The blouse was unbuttoned enough to show a deep slice of cleavage, down to the crucifix she wore hanging between her breasts.

"You should probably cover up a bit, sweetheart," my uncle said.

"It's too hot," she complained with a smile. The light kiss of freckles on her nose only added to her girlish grin. "I'll be fine."

Our guide was one of my uncle's farm workers, who introduced himself as Kej. I didn't know if it was a nickname or not, but as he shook my hand, then Molly's, it was clear he only had eyes for one of us. When we started walking, he probably thought he was hiding his glances pretty well. Molly didn't seem to notice any of them.

I did, though. The way his eyes drifted to her gently shaking cleavage, or the way her bare legs moved...

Now my uncle's paranoia had ruined what might have been a sweet hike up into the hills, for somewhere romantic to make love. We had this guy hanging around us.

I forced a smile and carried on.

* * *

We'd been up in the hills almost four hours when we finally saw another group. Until then, we'd seen a few farmers lower down close to the fields, and a few workers and women chopping wood and picking fruit, but the first sighting of another group had me nervous. Molly didn't seem bothered -- she even smiled and waved to them on the path ahead -- but my uncle's warnings were coming back to me.

"We should not pass them," Kej said. Hell, he looked more nervous than I was.

"Why not?"

"They are from across the border."

"How can you tell?"

He shook his head, close to panic now. "Come this way, quickly, please!"

I was about to follow, when Molly's voice lost all traces of amusement. "Oh, Christ... Luke, they've got guns."

"Okay, okay." I was trying to stay calm for all three of us, as the five men walked closer. I could see the machine guns in her hands and over their shoulders. "Let's just see what they want."

They were laughing when they reached us. Big, stupid grins as they chuckled and spoke in their own language. Our guide started to talk, sharing babbling words with them, but they were mostly paying attention to Molly. One of them: a huge guy with no shirt and a host of scars over his muscled chest, circled my girlfriend with his gun in his hands.

"Gambi, gambi," he kept saying with a grin. "Gambi, eh?"

Kej looked like he was going to piss his pants and run away.

"What's Gambi?" I asked him. Just saying the word made the soldiers laugh.

"It's a bad word in the Shona language," Kej replied. "It means 'pussy'."

Molly heard him, and blushed under her hat. I stepped forward and raised my hands. "Listen, guys..."

As soon as I'd opened my mouth, they raised their guns. I backed off, keeping my hands up. Kej did the same.

Their leader, the shirtless one, cupped Molly's chin in his dark hand, and mimed a kiss down at her.

"Punyu paku," he said with a smile, in his deep voice.

Molly couldn't turn her head. She called out, with a trembling voice, "What does that mean?"

Kej looked reluctant to answer. "He tells you that you must suckle on his manhood."

Molly stood there, looking up at him, even as the bastard pulled her hat off, and untied her ponytail, letting her fiery red hair loose around her shoulders. The other soldiers chuckled and whistled at the sight. You'd think they'd never saw a redhead before. Hell, they probably hadn't.

With the same greasy, superior smile, their leader brushed his thumb over my girlfriend's lips, then let his black fingers trail down to her blouse, pulling open one of the buttons with just a tug.

"Punyu paku," he growled again.

Molly shook her head. "No," she said, in a breathless whisper.

This time, their leader aimed his pistol right at my face. The soldiers laughed again, as both Kej and I flinched back. With his free hand, he didn't stop his quest. The other two buttons popped open on Molly's blouse. She swallowed softly as he bared her bra to the jungle heat.

"Pfugama," he said in that bass tone, still smirking, still holding a gun aimed at my face.

Kej was stuttering now. "He... he tells you to kneel."

Molly slowly lowered herself, her bare knees in the path's dry mud. All the while, she looked up into their leader's eyes. When she licked her dry lips, the soldiers took it as a sign of her lust, and laughed even more.

The leader used his free hand to unzip his pants, and pull out his long, thick, hanging cock. Even soft, he was bigger than me. And unlike me, he wasn't cut. Veins like cables curled along his dark shaft, and the purple-pink head was half-covered by a thick foreskin.

He slowly wiped his black dick over my girlfriend's lips, seeming to savour her surrender, not forcing it into her mouth just yet. Molly kept her mouth closed the whole time, her breasts rising and falling with her breathing. Already, he was growing hard against her lips, his cockhead swelling as his shaft rose.

He smiled again. "Kudya."

Kej cleared his throat. "He... he says you must 'eat'."

Molly swallowed one last time, her green eyes never leaving his. As she spoke, her lips moved against the growing member at her mouth.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I guessed that part."

I didn't think she'd do it. I still thought that this had just gone too far, that they were fucking with us, and that there was a way to talk ourselves out of it. Molly was from a huge Irish Catholic family, and while we made love without any hint of wedding bells in the future, I was her first, and she was always shy about sex. Whenever I wanted a blowjob, I was looking at weeks of begging. I couldn't even focus with that beastly cock against her lips -- it was just too insane.

"Listen..." I said again, so quietly they barely heard me. The leader waved his pistol to get me to shut up, still grinning, still keeping it aimed at my head. He was stroking Molly's hair now, running his dirty fingers through the clean red curls.

I saw her close her eyes. Oh, shit, I thought. She's going to do it.

And she did.

God help her, she did it. And God help me, I was watching her kiss some African criminal's cock. Her tongue slid up and down its fat black length, licking along the veins, teasing him even harder. The men looked on and cheered, and I saw Molly blush as their barbaric approval rang out so loud.

The warlord slapped her cheek, not hard, but enough to get her attention.

She was shivering now, and as she looked up into his eyes, she nodded. She knew what he wanted.

Molly's lips closed around the fat cock-head. Her surrender was complete. She closed her eyes again, and her mouth moved with the first suck.

Again, the men with guns cheered.

I stepped forward, desperate now. "Molly... don't..."

It was the last thing I saw. Something hit me in the back of the head, sending me to my knees in the dirt, the world spinning around me. As I felt myself drifting away, I heard the black guys laughing louder and louder... and the wet, sticky sounds of Molly sucking another man's dick.

When I opened my eyes, it was late evening. The sun was down. The crickets and other insects were putting up a hell of a night-time chorus.

My hands were tied, and I was lying down in the dirt, on the floor of a hut. I had no idea where I was, or how much time had passed. I wasn't alone. Kej lay across from me, looking bruised and beaten himself.

"Where's Molly?" I asked him, through a raw throat.

"Still with them," he said. "This is their village. We are in very much trouble."

No shit...

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(To be continued...)