Into Africa Ch. 01

CHAPTER 1: HUSBAND'S NEW JOB

Connecting flights within the US to Chicago and a long flight to Paris allowed Robert and me a night to enjoy the food, wine, and atmosphere that city is famous for. Then, another long flight to Africa and a connecting flight by a smaller regional jet deeper into the continent where we were met by a United Africa Corporation representative for a long drive that took several hours from the city. We were exhausted. But, then again ... we were finally in Africa.

My name is Ann Garrett and my husband is Robert. I'm going to relate to you a story, one I continue to live. Being from the States the idea of Africa held widely mixed images of primitive cultures and unlimited potential. And, we were there, exhausted by travel and fighting the impulse to doze in the backseat of the Land Rover as the vehicle left the civilized images of the city and presented the wild landscapes we envisioned in our anticipation.

Robert, at 29 years old, was an accomplished Product Development Manager in the States. When he began to be recruited by United Africa Corporation, he initially brushed it to the side. Robert is an individual with rare focus and intuition at seeing potential and value and developing product marketability and profitability. It was the rare, singular focus on detail and effort that allowed him to rise so quickly within the industry and to signal to others his value. That singular, unshakable focus was also something that could make him seem naive or unaware of other events and happenings around him.

Me? I was without question naive. At 27 years old, Robert took me from the small world where I grew up to expose me to the wonders of big cities and the occasional travel with him across the country as he presented at conferences and attended product shows in places I only dreamed about like New York City, Miami, New Orleans, Las Vegas, and Chicago. And, then ... pinch me ... Africa.

The driver's name was Dimka. I didn't know if that was his first name or last name or his only name. When he met us at Baggage Claim, I had to tear my eyes away from staring. Dimka was an imposing figure: coal-black, bald head, deep black eyes, 6'-3" tall, and 220 pounds with an athletic body that the clothes he wore couldn't hide.

I felt tiny next to him. I was. A white, long blonde-haired woman with bright blue eyes, I was 5'-5" tall with an athletic body from frequent time at the gym that weighed a mere 100 pounds. When Robert stood beside him waiting for our two pieces of luggage (everything else had been shipped ahead before our leaving), the comparison was the same. It was a surprise to me, but it was only one of many that would occur to me in the days and time ahead. Robert was 5'-9" tall with a slim, soft body. As I said, he was singularly focused and his focus was work. He had no time for the gym or being active. In truth, he had little time for me but I had a big world exposed to me and we'd been married only five years. But I saw Robert in a new light at that moment in the airport. He was a talented, successful, brilliant man who seemed to have the world by the tail. Wasn't that why we were here? In Africa. But ... was it fair? I saw this exotic hulk of manhood and ... my husband.

Robert was the first white person hired by the corporation. They had facilities throughout the continent and produced a variety of products, many of which were for export. We were headed to Corporate Headquarters, which explained its remote location. This was not where things were produced but where ideas and decisions were made. During the recruitment and interview process, they had been open that it was something of an experiment. The United Africa Corporation had a heritage of pride in the black African culture and diversity of people.

We were rising in the foothills with gentle rolling mountains beyond breaking up vibrant plains. I pinched myself when I looked out the vehicle window to see groups of exotic animals only viewed in zoos back home. Dimka got our attention as we crested a rise. United Africa Corporation. Looking through the front windshield, the building below seemed to fill the small valley below. The larger office and support buildings and parking lots were centered in the valley with residential, clubs, and the company town spreading out from it.

We had only seen pictures of the villa that would be ours as part of the creative compensation package of continuing contractual employment. As Dimka drove us past the center, as it was already late afternoon, I recognized the villa from the pictures as we approached it on the side of the hill. Another shining black Range Rover was parked near the front door and, as we approached up the drive, another large black man in a casual suit exited the house.

This was Mr. Contee, Roberts immediate boss who we had met during the recruitment. Mr. Contee (it seemed all superiors in the Corporation were referred to in that formal way) was another impressive man. Not merely by his title. Robert's department Director was perhaps a decade older. Like Dimka, he was the darkest black with deep black eyes and black, tightly curled hair cut very short. There was another similarity to Dimka that was impressive, his body. He was perhaps only an inch shorter than Dimka and just as imposingly powerfully built. As Robert moved forward to greet his new boss, the comparison was again too striking to pretend I didn't see.

I noticed there was no garage as part of the villa but the question in my mind of transportation was quickly resolved when Mr. Contee announced that Dimka, as our assigned driver, would come for us at 8:00 AM the next morning for initial greetings and orientation. Our driver? Our villa overlooking the valley? Africa? It seemed my whole being was vibrating.

Although our personal belongings were scattered in boxes identified by location within the house, the bed was made with clean linens and covers, the bath was equipped with towels and various soaps, and package toothbrushes and paste. I changed into a negligee I purposefully brought for this first night to hopefully reignite a new passion in this exotic land we were brought to. Robert was too exhausted by travel and too focused on the challenges of work ahead.

Dimka rang our front doorbell exactly at 8:00 AM the next morning. We were delivered to the Administration building where we were processed through initial documentation (Corporation IDs, country documentation and IDs, procedure and information binders - told to become very familiar with, and general welcoming. By late morning we were led to a conference room where Mr. Contee awaited us. We chatted for only a short time when another man entered the conference room without request. This was Mr. Ibori, the Corporation Vice President over groups including the Product Development group. He was about 45 years old, again dark black with a bald head, several inches shorter than Mr. Contee and still taller than Robert, and a trim body under his tailored suit.

We had lunch with the two of them in the Executive Dining Room which was elegant with servers in white outfits. Everyone I encountered at United Africa was not just black, obviously, but dark black.

After lunch, we were taken for more orientation. We sat through a 30-minute video of the Corporation, it's founding, and its drive for being a premier African business run and employed by Africans. And this was where we (Robert more than me, perhaps) became the 'experiment'. As part of the ongoing orientation, we were given headphones equipped with blue-tooth which would contain language lessons to learn rudimentary elements of the local language. We were also informed of TV channels with programming we should watch together each night about the Corporation, regional news and events, and points of interest for visiting. It seemed they had anticipated everything.

During the next couple of weeks, as Robert immersed himself into his new job, I set the house in order and became another form of the domestic wife he expected. Along the way, in addition to regularly using the headphones to learn the language, I was introduced to other video channels focused on yoga and meditation by Dimka.

After those couple of weeks, I felt a new energy. I had always received a boost from working out but this was somehow different. It was more than feeling my muscles. I began feeling a sense of anticipation, of yearning. I became addicted to the videos in the mid-morning and spent a couple of hours on yoga, meditation, and stretching to the soft, encouraging sound of the woman's voice as she led me through positions and thought. The woman on the screen was young and very African. There was something about her, too. The videos shifted to an intermediate grouping with a promise of moving to advance quickly with dedication and I found myself just that ... dedicated to the movements and doing them perfectly.

The sensations of anticipation and yearning only increased as the days went on. I still had no understanding of where these sensations came from or what they were expecting but my attention to the exercises increased as they shifted to advanced. That morning the woman appeared on the screen not wearing the customary exercise outfit but instead a short silk robe. She said the video would pause and suggested the viewer (it felt like only me) go to my closet to find the same robe, undress, and wear the robe. I jogged to the bedroom. I hadn't noticed the robe before. I certainly didn't unpack it but it was there as she said. I stripped off my clothes and slipped the silky material over my naked body. I stopped to look in the floor-length mirror before tying the robe closed. My 5' - 5" and 100-pound athletic body attracted even my eyes. I watched my hands rise along my 34-26-36 shape to cup my C-cup breasts. I smiled back at my image.

I quickly cinched the tie at the waist and returned to the family room and the paused video. The woman smiled back at me (at only me as it felt?) before untying her robe and slipping it off. She was gorgeous with her smooth, dark skin and regal appearance. I followed suit without her suggesting it. We moved through the positions. It felt wonderful. No, it felt amazing and over the next few days, the feelings of anticipation and yearning increased steadily. I was more than addicted to the videos and the headphones. When the videos ended in the morning, I immediately put the headphones on and I refused to get dressed as long as I wasn't going anywhere. I cleaned and cooked naked.

The front doorbell rang. I quickly retrieved the little robe and cinched it as I went to the door. "Mr. Contee," I softly said with a blush that sent a flush of warmth surging through my body.

"Mrs. Garrett ... may I call you Ann?" I nodded. He didn't seem phased by my attire but another surge of warmth flowed through me. I knew the robe, tied only at the waist, provided a deep plunge at my breasts and barely covered my ass at the bottom. "I know we've been keeping Robert very busy. He has not disappointed and is showing progress already on several ideas that are very exciting for the company." He paused. "But ... how are you doing?"

I smiled demurely and invited him in, through the entry to the family room. The yoga mat was still on the floor before the large screen TV. He sat on the couch before the TV, glanced at the mat, and smiled. He asked questions about how I was doing: was I progressing on the language lessons; was I taking advantage of the videos. For some reason, I remained standing before him. I doted on him with something to drink and responses to his questions. But, I remained standing as if it was part of something proper and expected. And, I didn't mind. It wasn't awkward. It felt right to be standing before him in the little robe that identified me as being naked underneath. As his eyes moved over my body, I didn't blush ... it was a flush, a warmth that crashed over my body that reinforced the feelings of anticipation and yearning.

"What do you think of Dimka, Ann?" he asked out of nowhere.

"He's amazing," I blurted out before I could stop it. My response hadn't been anything about his driving or his respectfulness or his timing. My reaction was simply about him being an overpowering symbol of maleness, of African male confidence, power, and domination. But, so was Mr. Contee as he sat on my couch with me in my short robe, my body flushed with excitement and need. God ... what was happening to me?

"Amazing ... interesting reaction. He is actually. Do you know he was not only a soldier but a fitness expert?" I shook my head. I wasn't surprised. His tight clothes exuded it. "You really should try him sometime." I nodded. Yes ... God, yes ... I really should. Wait ... what? I blushed deeply this time. He smiled at me as I squeezed my thighs together feeling the wetness there. "Yes ... try him ... as an exercise partner, of course."

"Yes, sir ... of course." I stepped closer to him and bent over to take his glass. I was sure the robe would gape open but it didn't stop me. It didn't even give me pause. I saw his eyes drop from my face to my chest. I moved to the kitchen to add more ice and water. I felt the slippery tie material loosen as I moved but ignored it.

"You're blonde." An obvious statement based on the hair cascading from my head over my shoulders. I nodded. "Natural blonde?" I nodded. He watched me carefully. He was gauging my response. I watched his eyes boldly travel over my body in the robe. "Show me, Ann."

"Sir?" I flushed, again. I knew what he meant. It just surprised me without any offense taken.

He was looking at my waist. I looked down. The robe had loosened so it was parted on top nearly to the tie and the same at the bottom. Nearly parted but not quite. I looked up to find his eyes back on mine. "Show me that you're a natural blonde."

I giggled in response. Such a girlish reaction. Not feeling any offense by the request but only knowing what he wouldn't see when I showed him. And I did. With one hand I loosened the tie and allowed the robe to fall open as my eyes stayed on his. He chuckled.

"You shave! Excellent." I stood before him with my legs slightly parted. His eyes moved up and down my body. Then, not knowing why, I moved the robe off my C-cup breasts. I realized I was standing straight, shoulders back, proud. Standing before him like that didn't only feel right but necessary. In that instant, I understood what the feelings of anticipation and yearning were all about. At the time, I didn't understand the feeling was a result of messaging from the videos and headphones. At the time, I only understood it was the necessary action.

"Beautiful, Ann." I flushed. The wetness between my legs increased. I desired to touch myself as I did after watching the latest videos not understanding the hidden images and messages contained in them. I resisted but wanted him to look at me. "Do you know how desirable your body is, Ann?" Should I nod or shake my head. I certainly didn't know that from Robert's attention to me. I just waited. "Tell me, Ann. What do you think your body is made for?"

"Black men, sir," I blurted out without thought. The words coming from my mouth shocked me but excited me more. I didn't know what was happening. I all knew was my pussy was flooded with juice.

He smiled and motioned me closer. "Do you have a question for me?" I blushed this time. "Ask me what is on your mind, Ann." He leaned forward to tug the robe from my shoulders. I allowed it to slip from my arms to the floor. "Ask me, Ann."

"Is it true about black men?" I asked softly. His hand came to my bare hip. I shook my head slightly. "No ... is it true about African men?" Yes, that was it. African men.

His fingers lightly moved over my skin to the top of my shaved mound. My eyes were still on his. "Why don't you find out."

His knees parted and I found myself on my knees between them, my fingers working his belt and trousers clasp and zipper. I didn't look up at him. I only ... anxiously ... focused on opening his trousers. I reached inside, under his shorts ... my mouth dropped open as my fingers wrapped around his cock. I glanced up at him, then back down as I pulled it out. It was soft. It was big. It seemed gigantic compared to Robert's. Hard, I would learn, it would be 12 inches. Even soft it hung over my hand clasped around it. My other hand joined the first and I began leaning forward. I stopped and looked up at Mr. Contee. He nodded approval. I smiled. Rather than any feeling of being controlled I had only the sense of being given something to enjoy, to please.

I leaned forward and touch my tongue to it. It felt so natural. It felt too necessary. It felt so essential. As my fingers moved up and down and my tongue and lips worked over the rest of it, I felt it grow. The head was enormous between my lips. If Robert indulged me, it was slam-bam and roll over to sleep. This drew me to want it, to please it.

I took the head between my lips and swirled my tongue around it. As a result of my marriage experience, I wasn't accomplished at any of this but my eagerness and desire took over. I knew I would become better at this. I knew it would be expected.

I took the head into my mouth and sucked. I moved my mouth down to my throat and pulled back up. I wasn't sure what I was doing but the cock was getting harder and Mr. Contee's moans were more frequent. I felt his fingers on my chin applying upward pressure. I allowed the cock to slip from my mouth and lips. With some element of frustration, but I did. I looked at it, again. Now hard, the veins of it stood out on the blackness of the shaft. My fingers continued to glide over the shaft. I marveled. So big. So long. So thick.

"What do you think now, Ann?"

I looked at the shaft of hard, big black cock in my fingers, slick with the juices from my mouth. "Sir ... are all African men like this?"

He smiled and looked intently at me. "You should discover that for yourself." I gazed at him. My fingers moving over his cock. I should discover more men's cocks ... more African men. That was his message. He was right. I now knew what I had blurted out responsively before was true. I was made for African men. It was like the final messaging to complete my understanding. This was what I wanted ... needed ... desired.

"Now, Ann ..." I looked from his cock to his eyes. I was hungry, needy. My pussy was flooded. I felt juice flowing from my pussy onto my inner thighs. "Now ... it's time to feel it inside you."

My eyes opened wide. No shock at the words. "You're so big, sir." My fingers still sliding up and down. "It won't fit." An academic consideration as if I were Robert analyzing a new problem.

"A little at first, maybe. It will fit, though." Our eyes met. "You want it, don't you?" I nodded. God, there was no question about that. "Come," he said, "sit on my lap ... take control and satisfy yourself that it will fit. I want to fill your pussy, Ann." I gazed at him as my knees settled onto the couch seat on either side of him. "You want it, too." Not a question. A statement. I nodded. God, YES! YES, I wanted that. "Fuck me, then. Take my big, black African cock into your tight white pussy." I grasped his cock and held it up straight below me as I moved it and my pussy until I felt the head at my entrance, at my hole. I felt the head barely pressing against the opening. I looked into his eyes. "Do what you're meant to do."

I pressed down and felt the massive head spread my opening, stretch my hole. I gasped at the size but pressed down more firmly and the head went inside. I cried out at being stretched so much and my entire body shook like I was suddenly freezing and my pussy clamped down around the intruder tighter. I gasped and panted while holding myself rigid on his cock. It was only a moment, though. Then ... the wonderful sensation as I pressed down more and I felt stuffed with cock. Another comparison with Robert ... poor Robert. There was no real comparison like totally dissimilar objects and this object was overwhelming.