Chronicles of Penninah Ch. 01

Her hand reached back between my legs and rolled my balls on the tips of her fingers. Without warning, her finger plunged into my anus and wrenched a gasp from my throat. Buttocks no longer in contact with the bed, she arched off the mattress. Her rounded full belly rose above the length of my cock. Like a second mouth, her slit swallowed and retreated and swallowed again; clasping, repeating the rhythm, spreading her wetness, anointing my belly with the juice from her own belly.

She moved her arse all over the place and she had the ability to squeeze my cock with her cunt, putting my cock in orbit. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me," she pleaded, grinding her cunt against me.

It was all I could do to keep from shooting my load right away but I somehow managed to hang on and make her cum a couple of times before my cock swelled up in her cunt and I shot cum into her pussy like a fire hose gone ape shit. At the first hint of ejaculation, her velvet walls clamped firmly to my pulsing shaft. Her fingers pressed hard just behind my swollen balls, rubbing in a little circular motion that had my knob twitching like a horse's flank. Somewhere, inside my aged belly, a dam burst, sending hot cum cascading through my balls. It shot along my straining cock like an electrical surge, igniting flash fires of paralysing pleasure. Spurt after spurt of white jism rode wave after wave of pure ecstasy.

And then she came, ranting like a crazed slut, urging me deeper as my nuts emptied into her gluttonous cunt. Eyes closed and lips pulled back in a grimace of intense pleasure, she writhed, gasping and shaking, totally consumed by the gratification of her wanton needs.

I realized she was the best fuck I ever had. God, what a piece of woman Peninah was: she could fuck and suck like no other woman in the world, she had the perfect mouth, and pussy and I now was wanting to get to fuck her whenever I wanted. I lay back nearly half-dead from my exertions. She looked like a fit boxer 1 round into a 15-round fight. Fuck she wasn't even breathing deeply. I thought quickly and pulled her close and spooned her, using one hand on her nipples and the other on her clit. Not roughly, not quickly, just gently and effectively.

As she slowly squirmed enjoying my double fingering it poured out of her. Yes, she had had many black cocks bigger than mine, yes, she had had white cock back in Kenya, but this was different. I understood what she needed, I read her mind knowing how fast, how deep, what angle, what position. The blacks just wanted to dominate her; the whites had used her to have the thrill of a black fuck. None had thought of what she needed. Only I had fucked that way she wanted. Luckily, I was spooned behind her, so she missed my stunned amazement. I had instinctively understood her needs? I almost laughed. She had guided and led our fuck with her hands and body and all I had done was follow that and her accompanying shrieked exhortations.

I could still remember her wailing "I love having my nipples bitten hard, pulled and twisted until I'm almost begging for it to stop. That always makes me cum so hard," and "Bite my clit. I squirt like a fountain." Yes, for sure I was reading her mind.

Normally I would either make my abrupt departure and block their mobile number if I was never going to see her again or pour on the honeyed lies they wanted to hear if I wanted them again. But this time I did something I had never done before. I TOLD THE TRUTH. I told her how I have never fucked like that; how it was physical and emotional at the same time. I tried to explain how she was so attractive to me and made me horny because she was real. I compared her sensuous enthusiastic sexual heat against that of a supermodel with the perfect body but dead or selfish eyes who looked at a mirror admiring themselves as they fucked, or to the Vietnamese with their self-centred take on beauty, how they needed to put on full makeup before fucking. She was the best.

"You are one of the few women I have met who could wear everyday slut, business slut and elegant slut," I continued with my gaze drinking in the sight of her opened slit.

"What do you mean?"

"Well everyday slut is like what a Thai or Filipina bar girl who needs a customer wears and would be your normal wear." She closed her eyes and her body shuddered. "And business slut would be like wearing what looks like a corporate business suit from a distance, but up close it shows even more than the everyday slut. Perfect for visiting important clients. For elegant slut, just think of what Beyonce or that Kardashian woman wear to awards."

She moaned as her finger found her slit. She hesitated before telling me, tears in her eyes, that after what the Sudanese men and women had put her through she knew she was a slut and had to try and fight it all the time to stop it taking over her. She had to fight to keep it under control. "I took it all their degradations: gangbangs, anal, insertions, women and I came and squirted. How do men see me?"

I held her close. "There will be those men who judge you and want nothing to do with you. Then we get those cuckolds who get their jollies from another man fucking their wife. Another group will want to control you. They need the power of telling you to do this or that, thinking up things for you to do because it makes them good to know they made that bitch do that. But most who love will accept it because they fear losing you. At first, they reluctantly accept it but gradually it builds up like cancer within destroying their love."

"Which group are you in?"

"None of those. If it was me, I would genuinely encourage and support because you are achieving your true potential, discovering the real person inside, finding out what you can become. Not trying to control and force like the third group, not going along reluctantly and becoming bitter like the last group."

"But what about you knowing or even worse watching me gangbang?"

I used my newfound argument I had tried on Anushka, but this time I believed what I said was the truth. With Anushka I was group three, controlling, but as I spoke now I knew it was what I felt. I explained how I would cope with her being gangbanged. How I could handle seeing my soulmate being taken by half a dozen or more men. Well, there was my pride in seeing her being better sexually than other women, seeing her achieve her potential. Jealousy didn't come into it as I knew it was a physical, not emotional act. I had tears in my eyes as I said how even if she felt some slight concern or tenderness for another man, say a shopkeeper we visited regularly that would destroy me because of our emotional, as well as the physical attachment. But to see her doing things other women wouldn't attempt or couldn't achieve would make me closer.

I talked about how physical attraction only sex was like a rocket; explosive start but short-lived. but how emotion made it like building with bricks. Just like each brick made the wall stronger, every fuck made the next fuck better and stronger. How I felt so good when she made me cum, but how I felt better when I felt her cumming and heard her screaming her climax.

I didn't know this person speaking or how he had got into this room. I hadn't heard words like this before. It couldn't be me saying these things. It was against what I stood for. She replied, "I want to build the Great Wall of China."

I moved on to how she could come to Australia after her navy job finished. She said it was impossible as our immigration laws were so tough with only marriage possible. Men wanted a young wife who was uneducated, and she was middle-aged, and university-educated and not afraid to speak her mind and I was married to Phoung.

"But there is a way," I said. "There is skilled immigration: a job no Australian permanent resident can do. I can employ you as an Accountant specializing in the Sudanese community."

"There must be qualified Sudanese here," she queried.

"Correct, but I would be pushing the avoiding corruption angle by having a non-Sudanese who also could communicate with them and was aware of any scams they may try to get Government money."

"But, but I am not an Accountant."

"You have a degree from a University recognized here and I am sure my contacts who deal with overseas bridal documents would ensure you are an Accountant."

We got very little rest that afternoon and evening, but I still remember some of the details. It was just after had been slipping my tongue up into the hot moistness of her dripping cunt, and Peninah was grinding her pussy against my mouth and tongue. I was on a roll and spent several minutes licking and sucking the flowing wetness from deep in her twat and working my upper lip against her quivering clit until she was near climax. Remembering what I had down to her as she destroyed Anushka, I turned her over and let her feel my mouth pushing into the soft flesh between the stretch-marked skin of her arse cheeks. My tongue teased around her sensitive arsehole and then I rimmed her quivering bung, as she fingered her clit with the hand trapped between her body and the sheet.

"Jesus, Greg," she panted, writhing her steamy arse up against my juice-smeared face. "I'm almost there, baby. Please keep licking."

She pushed back with her arse trying to get my tongue deeper "Oooooooooooh, darling," she squealed. "I'm cumming! IIIIIIIII'M CUMMIIIIIIIING!"

We changed positions and she straddled my groin and lowered her smouldering twat down around the throbbing desire of my stiff rod. Sliding and screwing her slippery slit up and down over my rigid fuck-pole, Peninah was riding me squeezing and fondling her jiggling tits. After several minutes of pumping and grinding her hot dripping twat around my welcoming boner, she threw her body forward over mine, rubbing her huge nipples against my chest. With my cock stuffed deep in her slit, Peninah squeezed her thighs around my legs, grinding her throbbing clit against the hardness of his shaft.

I was in the zone. It happens sometimes to sportsmen. They talk about how everything is in slow motion. They have time. They have space. Every move is perfect. This fuck was like that. I was God. I was superman. My mind went elsewhere, it became a montage of flickering stills. I saw Peninah and my Vietnamese wife Phoung having lesbian sex which morphed into a sexfight between the two, which changed into Peninah forcibly holding Phoung down as she fucked her doggy style with a strap on, which became me and Peninah fucking in front of a watching Phoung who was chained to the bed. Somewhere detached from that I was partly aware of Peninah shrieks and screams and her squirming writhing climaxes.

Then it was over, and we lay together. "What was all that crap about me and Phoung you were shouting then," she queried. I went red as I realized I must have been verbalising what was in my mind as Peninah and I fucked. I cringed at what she must think of me. "Fuck, it turned me on she said. Did you see how often and strong I came? But I don't know what a sexfight is. Is it the same as a fight I had with a Sudanese where she beat the shit out of me with her kicks, slaps and punches?"

I explained the difference and we went back to what she needed. When we left next morning, I would hate to be the Filipina cleaner handling those cum stained sheets with the shaven curly pubic hair. Her shaven cunt a symbol of her new start in life.