Out of Africa

I gasped and moaned around Mgumba's cock, my temperature went through the roof, and I felt perspiration spring from seemingly every pore in my body; writhing and squirming in an effort to ease the sensation of...satiety; it felt as if I might burst! Mark, indeed all of the lads paused for the time it took me to regain control of my breathing and accommodate his unnatural impalement, but once it was apparent that I had, Mgumba's voice again intruded: "She's fine... give her the rest." Mark's response was uncertain and it fell to me to reach back and grasp his hips as I pressed backward to meet him; I doubt that it made much difference physically, but my action perhaps provided the psychological release which Mark needed, his next thrust was certainly more forceful.

With the shackles released Mark drove into me three more times before I felt his balls slap against my pussy and heard his shout of triumph, chorused by the raucous cheers of the other guys; I too was wailing like a banshee, though Mgumba's intruding cock continued to mute those cries. The sweat was pouring out of me, I was on fire, ready to burst and... and... enjoying every second of it; what had I been so afraid for, why had I refused John when he'd asked all those years ago, this was bloody fantastic!

Once Mark had fully penetrated me things got easier -- Selene's salve was a godsend! - and he really cut loose, no doubt encouraged by my own obvious enjoyment of his assault and the ongoing chants of the other three boys; I was left in no doubt that I'd be similarly accommodating the other lads before we'd finished and positively relished the thought. I couldn't tell you how long our... orgy lasted, with my eyes blindfolded I never saw the clock. I've no doubt that I could've removed it, but to be honest it added a certain frisson to proceedings and while Mark now appeared at ease in fucking his mother, I'm not certain I would've been comfortable with him looking me in the eyes as he did so; Mark might've seen just how much I was enjoying it!

All four of the boys penetrated my bum that afternoon -- as I'd thought they would! - and some, perhaps all, took me there more than once; that too was part of the sightless thrill: Trying to work out which of them was where at any given moment! More than once a thought of 'you've overdone it with that aphrodisiac girl' entered my mind and by the end I was slipping in and out of consciousness -- they'd fucked me insensible! - so my recollections may not be wholly correct or complete. There were very few moments, never mind seconds or minutes when there wasn't a prick inside me somewhere and more often it was more than one; there was one point when all four of the guys were using me:

I was draped across Mark's lap on the couch with his cock buried in my bum, Pele, or more likely Joel was squatting between my legs as his cock pounded into my pussy; it was definitely Mgumba using my mouth while probably Pele, was somehow straddling both my midriff and Mark's, squishing my boobs together in his hands as he worked his cock between them. I don't have the largest of boobs, but his rough handling was making the best of what I had to offer and that, along with the lubricious mixture of my own sweat and the previous ejaculations that coated my cleavage seemed to provide a more than acceptable outlet for his lust.

If proof were needed, that arrived when the titty-fucker liberally sprayed my throat and chin with his climax; that was also how I could be so certain that it was Mgumba in my mouth: Those gouts of semen sprayed across his balls too and Mgumba was not a happy bunny; no prizes for guessing who got to lick them clean for him! I guessed Pele was the perpetrator as he without doubt was the kinkiest of the bunch: Twice, two-cocks shared space in my pussy and each time one of them was Pele's. He was also the one who liked to fuck my pussy and/or bum, before transferring to my mouth for his climax; in one such instance he tried to share my mouth with the already resident cock -- Mark's? That was a dreadful mess, with semen being sprayed unpleasantly up my nostrils!

How long did their assault last, how many times did they fuck me, how often did I come myself? I can't answer any of those; at some point I passed out completely and when I awoke all was black and silent, I don't know how long I'd been unconscious/asleep for either. The blackness was soon resolved, I simply removed that blindfold that was still tied tight about my head; I'd been right, it was a strip of fabric from my blouse. While no longer black, it remained dark and my bedroom clock told me it was now nine-thirty in the evening; the boys had at least carried me to my bed once they'd finished, or had they perhaps fucked my insensible form in here too? Quite possibly, as when I made to get up, I didn't so much throw the covers off as peel them from my body, adhered by a combination of sweat, semen and my own juices.

I felt to have been trampled by a herd of wildebeest while my pussy and bum simply burned. Hauling myself to my feet, I collected a small bottle of oil -- yet another of Selene's gifts -- and stumbled down the hallway towards the bathroom. I paused for a moment outside Mark's door, all was silent, but I could see beneath the door that the light was on. No... we would have to talk, but I hadn't the energy right now and continued to my destination. While the bath filled -- water as hot as I could bear! - I propped myself up in the shower to sluice off the very worst of what covered me; Christ but I was a mess! While doing so I discovered that my body was a mass of bruises, scratches and even bite-marks, those boys had really had their fun with me; then again, isn't that what a Mtungi's for?

I splashed just a few drops of oil into the bath -- could that really be enough? And sank down into the steaming water; Jesus but those first few seconds hurt! Within just a few more things improved markedly and I wouldn't be surprised if it was less than a minute before I'd been asleep once again. The water was stone cold, not just tepid when I awoke - how long had I slept this time? - but the change was amazing; my body remained a sea of minor damage, but the aches and pains had gone completely. OK, my bum and pussy still tingled, but even they were now a reassuring, almost satisfying heat rather than the fires which had raged there before.

As I headed back down the hallway I could see the light still burning in Mark's room, but in the moment I halted and raised my hand to knock, it went dark. While I was now ready for that tricky conversation, Mark clearly wasn't; never mind, tomorrow would perhaps be a better day for explanations anyway?

BOXING DAY - THE MORNING

My eyes opened around the usual time, just after 07:30; I'd slept like a baby, the sleep of the just, I surely didn't deserve that? Throwing off the sheets -- I'd lain on the unsullied side of the bed -- I fairly bounced out of bed and went through my morning exercise routine, before leaping into the shower. The bruises and bite marks seemed less visible this morning and while my bum and pussy still felt a little frayed about the edges, I'd no doubt that a couple of dabs with Selene's magic salve would deal with those. Four young men had given me the fucking of my life but I was feeling as fresh as a daisy; I'd learnt the secret of the Mtungi.

I dressed in a skirt once again, though today's was far more modest, falling comfortably below the knee and the blouse that I paired it with while still attractive, was rather less sheer than yesterday's. I next stripped and changed the bed before taking the soiled covers downstairs with me and tossing those into the washing machine, then turned on the coffee-maker. A couple of slices of toast and a freshly-pressed glass of juice along with another for Mark, which I left in the fridge completed my breakfast; I'd finished long before I heard movement from Mark's room and even then he was a further hour before he appeared -- a look of trepidation, perhaps even outright fear on his face -- at the kitchen doorway.

"Good morning darling, did you sleep well? I certainly did."

My bright smile and cheery greeting seemed to make Mark less comfortable than more: "Er... y-yes... fine mum; erm... yesterday... look... I'm really sorry; it wasn't my idea... but I could... no, should have stopped it; I don't know what came over me... Can you ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to apologise for; well... provided that you remembered to express your gratitude when you'd finished with me; I was completely out of it by then, so I wouldn't know."

Those words along with the beatific smile I still wore left Mark completely flummoxed; he sat -- all but fell really -- into a chair before managing to reply: "B...but, they, we, I... we all.. we gang banged you... Rape, it was a gang rape!"

My smile never wavered. "But afterwards... did you all say thank you?"

Mark's head lowered and waved from side to side when he eventually spoke: "Pele... he was the... last. Pele fucked you on the bed, you were completely asleep... unconscious by then. After he... finished, Pele stood up, put his hands together like he was praying, bowed his head and said some C-A words; afterwards Mgumba and Joel did the same. I didn't know the words, but I prayed and bowed like the others had done and I whispered that I was sorry."

I was getting up from the table as I spoke "Perfect; then you've got absolutely nothing to apologise for. There's fresh coffee and juice; can I offer you anything else?" I was already placing a coffee mug and the juice in front of Mark by the time he voiced a reply:

"An explanation Mum... What happened yesterday and why didn't I try to stop the others... stop myself! I shouldn't have been that drunk; and what the Hell's Mtungi?" It was time for 'that' conversation. Having spent most of the morning pulling my thoughts and words together, I sat down opposite Mark and answered his question; he raised the odd query and interjection, but for the most part it was a fifteen minute monologue:

You were far too young when we left C-A to have heard of the Mtungi and while the other lad's have obviously overheard anecdotes, gossip and adolescent stories, I suspect that they too have arrived here to study before they really 'knew'. Mtungi is the Lingala word for a bowl, a pitcher or even a bucket; anything that collects and holds liquids. Mtungi women are part of the old ways in C-A, so your father hated them with a passion; whereas I, perhaps with my being less committed to the church, but also by being a woman and mother, could see the need for the Mtungi women. C-A's a harsh, poor and volatile country, the Mtungi women provide a much needed pressure release valve; without them the violence would undoubtedly be far worse.

The social mores of the country demand that girls arrive at their marriage beds as virgins, indeed they're regularly inspected by the village's wise woman -- "yes, that was Seline with the orange hair who lived at the village's edge. No she wasn't a witch and I don't know how old she was, but even to me she did look as if she might have been over a hundred years old" - to ensure their hymens remain unbroken. In addition, all marriages are negotiated and arranged by the parents, so once they come of age, the girls are betrothed to the wealthiest suitor, who's almost invariably a man of at least thirty; the wealthiest men often taking more than one wife.

So... the boys know that the girl they've grown up loving, or at least lusting after is unlikely ever to be theirs, with the poorer boys knowing that they might never have any wife of their own. It makes the place a simmering cauldron of testosterone-fuelled frustration, often resulting in violence between the young men and thankfully rarely, as such instances invariably conclude with fatalities, that violence falls upon the girls too. The Mtungi help keep that cauldron from boiling over, by offering their... services, to any and all men, even the very poorest, provided only that they're unmarried. - "yes that includes the men in their own families, indeed a woman's fear that her own son or nephew may get caught up in such violence is often her motivation for taking the badge of the Mtungi".

Mtungi are invariably widows and those damned copper mines ensure that there are no shortage of those. A widow, particularly one still supporting children can't survive alone and while she may attract a second husband, he's likely to be a very poor one. Beyond that, her options are either prostitution or the Mtungi; the former pays better -- at least while she remains attractive -- but joining the Mtungi is less shameful. Indeed the Mtungi are esteemed, only a step below the villager elders and are financially supported, along with their families, by the whole village, even after... their attractions begin to fade. But it's not an easy life and once they've chosen to take the badge, they can temporarily cover it, but never remove it nor leave it behind; you're a Mtungi for life.

Once I'd finished we sat in silence for a couple of minutes; Mark deep in thought and I waiting patiently:

"You mentioned a Mtungi badge. The guys were looking for a tattoo on you; Pele and Mgumba said it would be a purple orchid, but Joel said it should be a hippopotamus?"

I laughed at that: "I know it varies in different regions, but a hippopotamus; surely not? Where we lived the ladies' tattoos were of a yellow trumpet flower, the 'Costus Spectabilis'; look it up on Google and you'll see that it's quite appropriate."

"But we didn't find a yellow whatever flower either... you don't have any tattoos."

"No... not yet anyway..." I reached into the pocket of my skirt, pulled out the yellow enamelled brooch and handed it to Mark. "... This was one of the gifts which I received from Seline when we left C-A; I thought at the time it was a joke in rather poor taste, but she was adamant that I keep it and insisted that 'one day you will find the need and this will suffice until you accept the tattoo.' Those C-A boys coming to college here have almost as many problems as their friends back home, but no... outlet for their frustrations."

Mark inspected the brooch closely before handing it back: "So this badge is the sign they were looking for; like the Mtungi women exposing their tattoo, when you wore it yesterday, it was an invitation for any man to... to fuck you... and to fuck you any way he wanted?"

"No, not any man... only the unmarried ones." I smiled as I answered, then clipped the brooch onto my lapel; the silence which then fell upon the room was deeper and longer than the one which had followed my explanation of the Mtungi tradition.

Mark's eyes swung in all directions, anywhere other than meeting mine, while a whole gamut of thoughts and emotions flickered across his face. When our eyes finally met they seemed to lock together, Mark's expression was now... unreadable and the silence dragged on for a further minute at least, before he drew in a deep breath and spoke:

"You're wearing the Mtungi badge." I stayed silent, but nodded.

"It's... uncovered" I nodded again

"So... I... I could... I can... ask you to let me fuck you." I gave that a smile but no nod of assent before replying:

"You're not married Mark, so right here and right now, you don't have to ask me to do anything; You can simply demand that I fuck you and fuck you in any way or any position that takes your fancy... and I must oblige you."

Mark's face flushed, his breathing became rapid and that world of expressions were again flitting across his face; when he spoke it was little more than a whisper, I barely heard Mark's words above the pounding of my own racing heartbeat: "C...Come over here then and... su...suck my cock."

I didn't hesitate, judging that neither Mark's courage, nor my own nerve would brook a delay. Dropping onto my knees before him, I jerked the front of my son's straining jogging pants halfway down his thighs and in the instant his cock sprung free, I caught it and steered it between my open and advancing lips. The feral growl this drew from my son sent a ripple of desire through my belly and when Mark snarled: "Yes, just like that... all the way in." that ripple became a tidal wave which crashed onward to my groin as I pressed forward, taking Mark's cock head deep into my mouth in submissive compliance.

I suspect that Mark had woken feeling horny and the preceding half hour's conversation would've fuelled that fire. Mark's reticence disappeared in the moment that he slid between my lips, his hips began bucking to meet my advance and he grasped me unmindfully by the hair, forcing his cock deep into my throat. It was harsh, uninhibited and short-lived; barely thirty seconds and a half dozen penetrations later, Mark snarled to a climax, demanding that I "swallow it all, every drop, suck me dry!"

It took a couple of minutes for us to recover our breaths and then as I moved to stand; Mark's hand re-tightened it's grip in my hair and I instead looked up questioningly: "Not yet Mum, get me hard again first." My son has always been a good student; it hadn't taken him long to grasp what a Mtungi was for.

Mark was still semi erect and with my eager ministrations plus the little extra that I'd used to spice his breakfast orange juice, he was again bar-hard within just a few minutes. Another jerk on my hair preceded Mark's next instruction: "That's enough. Get your knickers off and bend over the table... I'm going to be the first to take your Mtungi cunt today."

I don't know which shocked me the most, Mark's new found... dominance, or the coarse way in which he'd chosen to express it; shamelessly, one or the other, perhaps both had me trembling with excitement. I leapt to my feet, pushed the breakfast dishes aside and folded my upper body into the space that I'd made; tossing Mark a teasing grin over my shoulder, I grabbed at the back of my skirt and dragged it upward, shuffling my legs apart in invitation as I did so. It was now Mark's turn to be shocked... my rising skirt revealed that there were no panties to remove. "You dirty slut... I'm going to shag your fucking brains out."

My only response was to repeat that teasing smile and whisper: "Good... that's exactly what I need."

Mark's entry and initial penetration were mercifully controlled, gently steering his cock between the moist, fleshy petals of my vulva and stroking it several times up and down the full length of my pussy. It wasn't until with a mewl of frustration I lifted my hips and pressed backward to meet that tentative intrusion that Mark drove forward; perhaps that's what he'd been waiting for, a visible signal that I was every bit - perhaps more so? - in need of this as he was? A single, aggressive thrust saw the full length of Mark's cock slide into the depths of my channel; a penetration heralded by my primitive wail of delight -- Jesus but it felt good!

Once ensconced Mark began to... ride me; not viciously as I'd feared his language portended, but with steady, powerful strokes, almost withdrawing completely at the end of each one, before ploughing back into what felt like the very depths of my belly. Mark did so almost silently, or perhaps I just couldn't hear him beneath my own primeval moans and base incitements; seemingly I too had been infected by the need to spout outlandish and foul mouthed invective.

With one hand again entwined in my hair -- my son clearly favoured that mode of control -- and the other biting firmly into my hip, Mark pounded into me remorselessly; not sharing the self-control that Mark's recent climax afforded him, my own wasn't long in arriving. Mark too having perhaps sensed my orgasm's approach finally spoke, leaning down and growling close to my ear: "Let yourself go Mum... show me what a Mtungi whore you can really be... come on my cock...Now!"