Great Horn of Africa Pt. 02

"Body man?" I said. "I'm sorry I don't understand."

"My half-brother is also my body man, a valet if you prefer. Also, my body guard and servant," Reggie said. "He has always wished to take a white woman in her back hole. Do you understand what I am saying?"

I was pretty sure I knew exactly what he was saying. He wanted some dude to fuck my ass. "Is his spear as large as yours?"

Reggie smiled and shook his head. "No, he is much smaller than I am. If you agree, I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you."

"Sure, why not?" I said. I wasn't sure I could take much more sex, but the customer is always right, I've heard it said.

The body man, Sam, came quickly when Reggie summoned him. Sam was a smaller version of Reggie. Before he arrived, I pulled the cover over me. They conversed in Swahili, or something, for a few moments. Reggie told me that Sam didn't speak English at all.

Sam 's look of surprise when Reggie pulled the cover off of me, and exposed my body to his gaze, was priceless. His eyes lit up, and he grinned big, showing his pointed teeth. Sam started to get on the bed fully clothed and Reggie stopped him. Sam quickly removed his tunic and shorts and kicked his sandals off with such force that one hit the ceiling. Sam jumped onto the bed, and hovered over me, just looking at me for a long time. He put a tentative hand on my breast and stroked it. He became bolder, and took the other breast and played with both of them. Reggie was telling Sam something which Sam seemed to be enthusiastically agreeing with. From the tone of Reggie's voice, I suspected Sam was being warned not to hurt me. At least I hoped that what it was. Sam's cock wasn't anywhere near as big as Reggie's but it was still large by my standards.

Sam wasn't as gentle as Reggie had been, nor did he need to be. He fucked my pussy for a while and then switched to my ass. That took some time, but was worth the wait. After Sam finished, Reggie took another turn. There was

no way in hell I was going to let him stick his baseball bat size cock in my butt, but that seemed to be all right with him. While Reggie was fucking me doggy style, I motioned Sam to come. I gave him a blow job while Reggie worked his magic on the other end.

I wasn't sure of the protocol since no one told me how long a whore stays with her customer. Roland hadn't mentioned it, but one thing was certain. I wasn't going to quit as long as Reggie and Sam wanted to go, even if it took all day, which it almost did. I didn't leave the hotel until nearly five o'clock that afternoon. Before I left Reggie, he handed me an envelope. He told me that the fee had been paid, and the contents of the envelope was just for me. It was a thousand dollars. Pretty nice tip, I thought.

Russell picked me up, and took me home. Knowing my husband was waiting for me to tell him all the details I pondered whether to share, or for now, withhold my bisexual conversion. With a self-satisfied chuckle I remembered an expression I had heard somewhere. After being "royally screwed" by an African prince that expression, "Great Horn of Africa," most definitely took on an entirely new provocative meaning!

Beth's story:

After all those years of being "just" a housewife, I'm finally working outside the home. I'll be the first to admit that my occupation is unusual and unconventional. It's also illegal in most places. I'm a prostitute.

I'll also admit that it is probably unusual for a woman to enter the profession at the age of thirty-eight. My husband of twenty years, Scott Wheeler, is a successful accountant and my life was comfortable, so it wasn't a need for money that prompted me to become a prostitute. Maybe it was because my life was so comfortable that motivated me to try it.

One night I watched a triple X videotape with Scott that depicted a young white woman who had supposedly been sold into white slavery to a black pimp. Something about that video reached out to me. I felt a mixture of emotions

for the woman. I felt fear for her, I felt concern for her wellbeing, I felt compassion for her, but most of all I felt pure envy. Watching her with various men doing a wide variety of sex acts with them awakened something in me.in both Scott and I.

Me with a black pimp and other black men became a bedroom fantasy for us, and we role played for weeks. As luck would have it, Scott had a client that, among other things, was a pimp. To make a long story short Scott invited the pimp, Roland Morgan, whose street name is Big R, to our home for dinner one evening. Roland and a friend of his, Russell, did exactly what both Scott and I wanted them to do. They fucked me in my bedroom while Scott watched and videotaped my introduction to sex with not just one but two black men. It wasn't but a few days later that with Scott's concurrence I became the newest whore in Big R's stable.

Because money wasn't the motivation for my entry into the ranks of professional whoredom, I basically worked when I wanted to. Because of my status I "dated" a lot during the day, so I was home most nights. What amazed me most was, I was in fairly high demand. Roland set the basic fee on me at five hundred dollars an hour. Men actually willingly and cheerfully paid that price and asked for other "dates" with me. Roland has one other woman, who commands a higher fee. Tina is her name and she is twenty years old that looks like a fifteen-year-old girl. Men willingly pay one thousand dollars an hour for her, and she stays busy. At thirty-eight I'm nearly at the other end of the age spectrum. I think Roland has a couple ladies older than me.

One of my very first paying customers was an African Prince whose anglicized name is Reggie, because his real name in unpronounceable. I met Reggie during my first week of training, and he has returned to town several times since, each time requesting me.

Reggie has a half-brother, named Sam, who always accompanies him. Usually Reggie invites Sam to join us in bed. I think it was the third date that I measured Reggie's cock. I had to because I was eaten up with curiosity. Using my tape measure from home, I measured Reggie at eleven and three-quarters inches long and seven and a half inches in circumference. Poor Sam was only nine and a half long and five around. My husband scoffed when I used the term "poor Sam". Scott was right. In any other circumstance, Sam would be considered "hung." I've learned that cock size is relative.

I mention Reggie because of all the men I have "dated" in the past few months, he stands out. Not so much because of his physical size, which is considerable, but because he is a considerate lover. If Reggie weren't gentle, I wouldn't get within ten feet of him and his gigantic cock. That brings me to the story I want to tell.

It was early in the week, a Tuesday I think, that I got a call from Roland. It was mid-morning as I recall.

"Good morning Pretty pussy," Roland said when I answered the phone. "What's shakin'?"

"What do you want to shake?" I provocatively replied.

He chuckled. "I got a date for you. A big one." Roland sounded excited, which was unusual for him.

"Tell me about it," I said as my heart rate picked up. His excitement was contagious.

"Your African stud is coming to town this weekend," Rolland said. My silent reaction was, 'Nothing overly exciting there.' I always enjoyed my dates with Reggie and Sam, but it wasn't an earthshaking event. I waited for the rest. "Apparently there is some sort of trade convention going on. Prince Reggie is bringing a whole delegation to this country. They want to book some of my gals for the entertainment."

"Okay," I said. "Sounds like you are going to make some money out of it. So, what?" In all honesty I was more than a little miffed that I had not been requested as Reggie's solo date, as I had been on several occasions.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," Roland said. "They want you and two other girls for a whole weekend. They got a lodge reserved out by Joy Lake. Honey, we're talking about some serious money here." That sounded better to me. At least Reggie had mentioned my name.

"How many in this delegation?" I asked.

"Fourteen total," Rolland said. "Who do you want to go with you?"

"I didn't agree to go," I said. "Fourteen Africans and three women? Roland, I know about these Africans. They can go all night and half the day. They'll wear us out. The equation sucks, count me out."

"Come on Beth," Roland said. "You girls will split half of fifty grand for one lousy weekend. That's good money in anybody's book." I quickly did the math. Roland was right. Eight thousand dollars and change were good money.

"Eight thousand is good money, Roland. I'm sure some of your women will jump at the chance. No amount of money is good if we get fucked to death trying to earn it. Thanks, but no thanks. I'll pass."

That should have been the end of it. Roland had never questioned my decisions before. It wasn't the end of it. Roland tried persuasion, then begging, and finally threats. I got angry, and I hung up on him. Something was wrong. Rolland had never put money before his girls that I was aware of. It had to be something more than his fifty percent of the fifty thousand dollars.

Holly's story:

My name is Holly McAllister and I'm a white whore for black men. My story is simple enough. My husband, Jefferson McAllister got sick. So sick he was out of work for over six months. We needed money, and we needed it quick. Without skills, training, nor experience I wasn't a good candidate for a good paying job anywhere. I heard about a pimp named Big R. I applied, auditioned, and got the job all in the same day. I spent the first few days just being fucked by black men. And I do mean a lot of black men.

Over the next four or five months I managed to get Jeff and I out of debt. I worked like a dog, night and day. I wouldn't even have a guess as to how many black cocks I had in me during that time. I know it was a lot of them.

After we reached financial solvency, I stopped being a whore night and day. I cut back to a few times a week and a few special occasions for what might be considered a financial maintenance workload. But in truth by that time I was irrevocably hooked on black cock.

My husband had never really come to grips with me being a whore. He never said it in so many words, but I could tell. I don't know if it was his hurt pride or being ashamed of me and what I was doing, or some combination of both. I assured him many times that it wasn't his fault that he got sick. I tried to assure him that it was just one of those things that happen to people.

Whatever the cause, it was affecting our marriage. Jeff tried to punish me by withholding sex from me. He apparently hadn't given that enough thought. When he wouldn't give me sex, I just went on a date and got plenty. After Jeff saw that wasn't going to work, he tried to stonewall me. He would go for days without talking to me except for the occasional grunt. Big deal! I have two small children, so I get plenty of conversation. I can always have a lively discussion with one of my clients if I feel the need. Some of them want to talk.

After the stonewalling didn't work he tried to shame me. That pissed me off the most. When he would start, I would interrupt with a story about one of my clients. I would tell him about the size of the stud's cock and what the stud would do to me. That shut Jeff up pretty quick. Basically, we were destroying each other, and it sucked the big one. Our marriage is quickly becoming a thing of the past.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when Big R called me with a date assignment. He was glowing about what a perfect date it was, and how much money I would make. It sounded perfect until he mentioned that it was an all weekend gig.

"Big R," I interrupted him. "You know I have two small children, and I can't be gone all weekend. You'll have to find somebody else."

"Wait, Holly. This is a big deal for all of us." He went on to explain about a trade delegation from Africa coming in. That set off a bell in my brain.

"Are you talking about that African prince that Beth dates?"

"Yeah, Beth can't make it. You and two other girls split twenty-five grand for the weekend. That some serious money, and I'll."

"Why can't Beth make it?" I interrupted again.

"How the hell do I know? Suppose it's some woman trouble. Got her period or something. What difference does that make?"

"None, I guess," I said. "I still can't get away all weekend. Sorry, Big R."

Big R went into a rage. He begged and pleaded, and made some threats that pissed me off. I hung up on him. I knew something wasn't right, so I called Beth.

"Yes, he called me this morning," Beth said. "I took a pass on it. I know something about the Africans. Three women to service fourteen African men would be murder under any conditions, but all weekend? I don't think so. I

wouldn't even want to be with just Reggie for that long. Roland is going to get somebody hurt with that setup."

"I took a pass on it also," I said. "It really pissed Big R off though. He threatened to post my name, phone number, and address on the Internet and around town. Can you believe that?"

"Yes, I can. He threatened me with the same. I don't know what's gotten into him. It surely can't be the money. Hey, let's get together for lunch tomorrow."

I agreed that it sounded good and we made a date for noon the next day.

I noticed him about two blocks from my house. There was a time, not all that long ago, if I saw a black man following me, I would have panicked and screamed for the cops. Now I wasn't all that concerned. Besides I recognized him.

I met Beth at the café, and we sat by a window and caught up on what we had been doing.

"Is Russell following you or me?" Beth asked after we had been there a while.

"Me, I think," I answered. "I saw him behind me on the way here. Is he still out there?"

"Yes, he's sitting in a car just down the street. Any idea what he's up to?"

"No, unless he's on a mission from Big R to get us to change our minds about the weekend. Has he contacted you since yesterday?"

Beth shook her head. "No, I haven't heard from him. I know all that business has something to do with something else besides selling our pussy to a bunch of Africans. Roland sounded desperate." We had finished our lunch.

"Why don't we just go out, and see what Russ has to say," I suggested. That was what Beth and I did.

"What's up Russ?" I asked approaching the driver's window.

"Not a whole lot," Russ answered grinning at both Beth and I. "Now that ain't exactly the truth. Big R is in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Beth asked.

"He's done gone and jumped in bed with them African niggers. Some import shit I don't understand. Anyway, R stands to lose everything if they don't come through with their end of the deal. As I understand it, the head nigger is holding out for a party this weekend. What's his name? The Prince?"

"Reggie," Beth supplied.

"Yeah, Reggie," Russ said. "He doesn't want just any woman. He wants you, Beth. He done told R that if you ain't comin' he's going to forget the deal. R tried to sell him your ass, Holly, but the stuck-up prick doesn't want nobody but Beth, and whoever she brings for the rest of the gang. R's a prideful man, but I told him to talk with you, Beth. I know you wouldn't want R to go down the shitter."

"I know he has a lot of pride," Beth said. "But, Russell, what he's asking is too much. Fourteen African men and three women are unreasonable."

"There ain't fourteen men. They got a couple women and some of the men are old farts. One of the old men is Reggie's daddy. He's got to be seventy or more." Russ shook his head. "I don't know why R didn't just tell you that his self. Another thing, R offered to send a woman for every man, but Reggie didn't want that. He's lookin' for an orgy, I guess. R don't know I came to talk with you gals, so don't tell him I did."

I glanced at Beth. She seemed to be giving the matter a great deal of thought. I too, was trying to think whom I could get to take care of my kids all weekend. Big R had been good to me, and I didn't want to see him get hurt.

"Okay," Beth said after a while. "The odds are better than I first thought. It's still going to be rough, but I think it should be manageable. What about you, Holly? Can you make it?"

"I have two kids," I said. "I don't see how."

"I've got that covered for you. Carla, my daughter, is always looking for ways to make money. She's good with kids, and she can cook. Scott can be a general overseer, just to make sure everything is okay. Whom can we line up for the third woman?"

"Lou," I answered immediately. "She would do it, I'm sure."

"Do I know her?" Beth asked.

"No, I don't think so. They moved here a few months ago. Her husband was confined to a wheelchair, but he passed away right after they moved here. I know Lou got left with a lot of bills and could use the money."

"Yeah, that Lou is a good fuck," Russ said. "She's done got way behind in her fuckin' and needs to catch up. Between you three, you'll fuck them jungle bunnies to death. When you going to see R?"

I glanced at Beth and she nodded. "Right now," I said. "Where is he?"

"He's at the main office, I guess," Russ answered. "You gals give me a fifteen-minute start and I'll make sure he's there for you."

Beth's story:

I knew it had to be something big for Roland to act like he did. His conduct was so out of character for him. Holly and I went back into the café, and had another cup of coffee. We killed about fifteen minutes then left together to visit Roland. The initial part of our visit didn't go very well.

"What the fuck do you bitches want?" Roland snapped when he saw us enter his office. Roland maintained a couple offices, but his main office was in back of a liquor store on South Washington Street. That was where we were. It was also where Roland interviewed most of his new whores. There was a bedroom behind the office. Poor Roland looked like he had aged ten years in the week and a half since I last saw him. Russell stood beside his desk with a worried look on his face.

"We thought we needed to talk to you Roland," I said. "Why don't."

"Why don't you get the fuck out of here?" Roland yelled, throwing a ballpoint pen in our general direction.

"God dammit, R, shut the fuck up, and listen for a change," Russell yelled at Roland. It shocked Roland, it shocked Holly and I, and I think it shocked Russell. In all the times I had been with both of them, Russell always deferred to Roland. He was the perfect submissive employee. "Boss, I don't exactly understand why, but these gals like you. It ain't going to hurt you none to listen to what they have to say. You damned sure can't be any worse off than you are now."

Roland stared at Russell hard for a few moments before nodding his head a couple of times. "It appears that someone has been talking out of school. What did you tell them Russ?"

"I told them that you were hard up against it with these jungle bunnies. Shit, boss, I don't know why you didn't tell them to begin with. At least you should have told Beth. Fuckin' bull headedness if you ask me. Neither of these gals has ever said a bad thing against you even though they had reasons from time to time. Hell, you didn't bother to tell Beth that some of them folks were women and old men who couldn't get it up if their life depended on it. What the fuck was that all about, anyway?"

Roland didn't comment for several minutes. He looked first at Russell and then at Holly and me. Finally, he gave a big sigh.

"Okay since all of you seemed hell-bent and determined to get your noses in my business, I'll tell you. Russ couldn't tell you much because he doesn't know much. I've been negotiating for a long time with the government that Reggie represents. Initially I invested two million dollars in a deal for me to be the exclusive importer of some authentic African artifacts and collector stuff. Then I had to invest some more money and still later some more money that I didn't have handy. I borrowed it and now Reggie is trying to renege on me. After some discussion he came up with the orgy plan. All I had to do was talk you, Beth, into showing up with a couple more gals and party with the group. That was supposed to satisfy Reggie and he'd sign the deal."