Ritual Abduction

Author's Note: A somewhat different story from me; outside my usual area. A request from a 'fan' seeking a story to speak to his particular (and it is a him) quirks and kinks. Bondage, gags and blindfolding, interracial, abduction, penis gags, almost incest and rather a lot more. No male/male wank buddying though! A bit tongue in cheek, and certainly absurd, but that's not so unusual from me.

"We have been talking," said Mrs. Mmmpho, "Donald and I, about Trixie."

Stuart nodded over his coffee mug, seated there in the Mmmphos' flat. Trixie was the Mmmphos' newly come-of-age daughter. He had known her since she was but a girl, since the Mmmphos and he had been neighbours for years. And as a man, his thoughts about Mrs. Mmmpho had been neighbourly, but sometimes a little bit more. More than a few times, late at night, tissues had collected his enthusiasm for Mrs. Mmmpho's rather generous breasts. He had imagined things with her, and they had not involved Mr. Donald Mmmpho at all! In fact, they had very much involved his replacement by Stuart in the marital bed and other places. Yes, a very different penis perhaps exuding between those generous breasts, or within Mrs. Mmmpho's no doubt capacious mouth, or in the place Trixie had travelled down all those eighteen years ago, out into the world.

"Trixie is such a shy little thing," Mrs Mmmpho continued. "We worry about how she'll be with boys when she goes off to college. She has no experience, what with us sending her to an all-girls' school."

Many times Stuart had enjoyed the sight of Trixie going out or coming home in her uniform. He had a bit of a thing about uniforms. Only a few days before, he had followed her up the stairs to his floor in the building; Trixie only noticed him at the top of the stairs. He had watched her brown legs in those long white socks, and had most certainly taken a quick and focused look when she turned a flight, trying to view rather more of her legs where they disappeared into her pleated maroon skirt--all from his lower vantage point. Was that even a flash of white knicker? He had talked a little to her outside the Mmmphos' door, about school and her hopes for college. She had not looked directly at him but respectfully downwards, and he had been able to observe a little down into her white blouse. He had liked that.

"Back in our old country." Mrs. Mmmpho was still talking. Stuart waited;. she often talked about that. Unsurprising, people always liked to reminisce about where they came from. Even he did, though nobody would be much interested in his old town, even if he still thought fondly of it.

"...things would be different," Mrs. Mmmpho finished her sentence. "Not that girls and boys would mix freely back there. Anything but. Still, coming of age was important, the young men becoming warriors and men...the nights spent alone in the desert and...well, you would have to ask Donald. But the young women learning to be women; the secrets, since you are a man, I could not divulge them to you but.... The birds and the bees, as you might say Mr. Jay... Stuart, the birds and the bees. They learnt about that."

Stuart nodded; he remembered his father explaining. It had not been easy for either of them. "A task for the mother," he offered.

"No, no, the village elder," Mrs. Mmmpho chimed in. "The girls would have no idea what was to happen. But it was not a quiet chat with the women around a fire. It was a violent ritual!"

"What!?" Stuart's eyes shot wide open in surprise.

"I think it would shock Trixie out of her timidity. Make her a strong woman. Able to easily face all those college boys. And it would please us. The old customs followed the rules. It was worse for the boys back home...so I understand. Not all came back...."

Now that didn't sound good, Stuart thought. "Are you thinking of flying back to--?"

"No, no," she interrupted. "I was thinking that somehow we could arrange the same thing here. I have spoken to friends but...well, there is a problem. Donald is the elder, you see. He could perform the rituals. Being the father is no bar, really, only...only he doesn't want to. He has become too Western, I think, and...and...." Mrs. Mmmpho's eyes looked at the floor, whilst Stuart gazed down her ample cleavage--so dark, so intriguing. "You see, Donald has a very large penis."

"Oh!" What to say to that? Stuart thought to himself!

"I can take it, I can take it all in. It does not hurt." Mrs. Mmmpho looked surprising coy making such a delicate and intimate disclosure, "And...I rather like it." She looked straight at Stuart, "I have a large mouth as well. I can suck...do a 'blowjob', I think is the word." Her pink tongue moved across her generous brown lips. It made Stuart shiver--in a nice way. A very nice way.

"I can take his cock, but I do not at all think Trixie's little hole could take Donald's penis, even after..." a pause, "...the rituals." She was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. "Of course, Trixie's mouth is large like mine. She could do that."

Stuart was dumbstruck. Sucking her old man's cock, being taught the arts of pleasing a man by--her father. What!? It was unnatural and so outside his experience, yet within his pants his own cock, no doubt nothing to compare with Mr. Donald Mmmpho's apparent whopper, was hard as a rock.

"It would not be right for one of the other men in our community to take Donald's place but...a visiting elder from another village, perhaps. Though...." Mrs. Mmmpho's gesture was wide, "...there is no other village here, of course. So... well...Donald and I wondered if you...." Mrs. Mmmpho trailed off.

Stuart's eyes went wide. Was Mrs. Mmmpho really asking him to put his cock in Trixie's mouth? Perhaps even fuck her? It sounded like it!

"I'm sorry," Stuart replied, wanting to be certain of what he had just heard. What exactly do you want me to do? I do not...I mean, I'm not a village elder. I don't live in a village." Anything but, he told himself--rather, in an apartment block in a big city.

But Mrs. Mmmpho proceeded to lay out exactly what she wanted. Mr. Mmmpho and she saw Stuart as the 'apartment block 'elder'. He was the oldest man in the apartment complex, and they had seen him in uniform. He looked distinguished and.... She began to explain the rituals, and her words did nothing to lessen Stuart's tumescence. If anything they encouraged it to be harder still. What she conveyed to him was, in fact, his own fantasies writ large--an astounding invitation!

"So, then, if you've finished your coffee, Donald asked me, if you don't mind, Stuart, to inspect...."

Surely this could not be, he told himself. This really could not. Surely, she was not going to say--but she was!

"... your penis."

What was he to say? Perhaps Mrs. Mmmpho might want to touch as well, perhaps even 'make it work.'

"Really?" he replied, taking a sane curse to this insane suggestion. "Yes of course, Mrs. Mmmpho. If you wish. Anytime...I mean...." Okay, he was confused--of course he was confused!

She motioned for him to stand, and immediately she could see the state of his trousers. There was definitely something in there, apart from loose change and his keys. "Ah, good, Stuart, you are manly and hard already. How useful--and it does not look too big. Come here, please."

Stuart had fantasized, but now it was real. He was standing in front of Mrs. Mmmpho, between her spread thighs, her dress stretched between them as she sat upon a kitchen chair. He looked down, down her cleavage at the swell of her not inconsiderable breasts. Plenty of room to keep a handkerchief--or quite a lot of things, actually--safely between them. Stuart had peaked down her cleavage before, many times. But not like this. Her hands reached for his belt. He closed his eyes, disbelieving the evidence that she really was about to extract his cock from his fly. Belt undone, trousers undone, and then zip lowered. A hand, not at all his own, placed on the cotton of his boxers, feeling the sausage shape within. She was touching his penis--almost, just thin cotton was separating penile flesh and her pink palm. He hoped she did not think it too large or, again, too small!

"Feels right. Shall we see...or rather, may I see?"

A pulling forward of the elastic of the waistband, and then a firm tugging down of both boxers and trousers leaving the somewhat unattractive sight of a sixty-plus-year-old man standing with trousers and pants around his knees, and his wrinkled cock standing up in the air. Mrs. Mmmpho's eyes were all on his cock.

"But this is excellent! Just what Donald and I hoped. May I? Donald will want to know."

It was not one of his past fantasies, but it would more than do--especially as it was real. Mrs. Mmmpho had already reached for a dressmaker's tape measure; had, no doubt, placed it deliberately to hand. Stuart had measured his cock long ago when in his teens. He had never had someone else do it. What a thing for Mrs. Mmmpho to be doing--and best of all it meant she had to touch him.

"Five-and-a-half inches, just right," she said, with one end of the tape measure pushed into his greying pubic hair, the other up at the tip of his knob, finger actually resting on the end. "Four-and-a-half inches," she announced next, holding the tape right around the erection towards where it joined the rest of his body. "Perfect. It's lovely. Donald will be pleased."

Her fingers trailed down the knob and rested at the edge, the purple, splayed edge. "You have been cut," she fingered his circumcision scar, "like our boys when they become men. That is good. Donald and I could not possibly have a boy popping Trixie's cherry. That worries her about college. It needs to be done properly, and Trixie needs to be ready to deal with boys at college. It will happen, of course. She is very pretty." Her fingers were lightly moving up and down an inch below the swollen knob. It was a wonderful feeling.

Stuart took a deep breath to retrieve his concentration. He had to agree, "Trixie is certainly a pretty girl. Like her mother," he added in a gallant way. Mrs. Mmmpho smiled.

"Donald also asked me to make you ejaculate. To see how well you come. Trixie needs to know...." What did Trixie need to know? Stuart wondered. "Donald thought this might help."

Donald seemed to be very accommodating. Proving very neighbourly. He was asking his wife to do so many of the right things. What might the interview have been like had he been there? Difficult to imagine. Mrs. Mmmpho might have insisted showing him how big Donald's cock was; might have shown how big her mouth was; might have shown how much cum Donald produced. Stuart shuddered. He did not want to see that. Did not want his erection out in the same room as Donald's. Did not want Donald's prick soaring over his! Or to see the cum pouring out of his dark--and apparently impressive--cock.

But what had Donald thought might 'help' Stuart with producing semen? At this point, Mrs. Mmmpho's hand would be enough.

Joy! Stuart watched Mrs. Mmmpho's fingers undoing her dress, button by button, her cream-coloured brassiere coming into view. The buttons undone, she lowered the blouse to her waist and then, as his eyes widened and widened, she was undoing her cream brassiere at the back. He was already seeing so much more than he had seen from his surreptitious glances down her cleavage over the years. Mrs. Mmmpho was a large woman; she was almost bursting out of her brassiere.

She undid. She burst.

The boobs Stuart had only imagined were exposed to his gaze. Large...very large...and hanging downwards. Not at all the perky upward thrust he imagined with Trixie. No, Mrs. Mmmpho was substantial and maternal. Elongated coal-black nipples--nipples Trixie would once have sucked; the areolas not quite saucer-big surrounds, but nonetheless large, dark, and exciting; all atop such substantial 'balloons.' Would young Trixie grow to be like that?

Stuart was enveloped in flesh. The best 'tit-fuck' he had ever had. His cock lost in oodles of breast-flesh as Mrs. Mmmpho rubbed them together around him, her hands manipulating her breasts, moving them in such a stimulating, stroking way. Did Donald enjoy a regular tit-fuck? Stuart wondered. His knob, though, would probably keep appearing out at the top, while Stuart's was quite lost in the flesh.

He would do this to Trixie, he thought. Would repeat her mother's actions; only Trixie would be bound and unable to prevent the action. He had been told he had to bind her, hadn't he? The girl would not be able to prevent her breasts being ravished by Stuart. Reality in the form of Mrs Mmmpho, and still fantasy in the shape of Trixie's imagined breasts. Upon the real breasts a snail's trail of cum was starting to appear.

Mrs. Mmmpho was not bound. More the pity, Stuart thought. Might it not be a good idea to practise upon her before binding Trixie? Perhaps that might be one of Donald's suggestions!

"What...what are these rituals I need to perform?" He sought more detail.

There was a pause as Mrs. Mmmpho reached for a jar of oil and liberally poured the oil over her breasts before rubbing it in with her own hands. Stuart watched spellbound as her palms rotated over her nipples. Were they harder now?

"You need to abduct her."

"What!?" The soft and so dark flesh stroked up and down his erection. He was enveloped in breasts.

"You need to catch her unawares, blindfold and gag her, tie her up and take her somewhere out into the countryside where she is not familiar and...." the woman hesitated.

"You want me to...rape her?"

Stuart's cock continued to slide between Mrs. Mmmpho's breasts as she held and moved them. The oil made the sliding easy. There was plenty of room in the valley. Room for Mr. Mmmpho, indeed room for Stuart and Donald Mmmpho together--wait! That was not a good thought.

"No, no. You have our consent. It is the way of our people."

"But she will not expect...does she have any idea?"

"She will have an inkling; she knows something of the ways of our people. Girls talk. Girls have vivid imaginations."

"Other girls. This has happened before?"

"Donald has officiated. He has deflowered several girls. He will tell you about them."

It was all Stuart's dream coming true. Surely no culture really had such odd rituals--but he did not want to disappoint the Mmmphos; he so liked the idea. Would, though, Trixie Mmmpho appreciate what he was going to do for her...or was it, to her?

"We are not terribly monogamous," said Mrs. Mmmpho. "I expect you would like to fuck me, but I need to see you ejaculate, not simply feel!"

The thought of Mrs. Mmmpho further lowering her dress and opening her substantial thighs wide for him was more than a little pleasing! If he did agree to this ritual with Trixie, this defloration of Mrs Mmmpho's daughter, might on occasion there be the chance of a fuck with her as well? Donald was away on business sometimes, he knew. Might he ask Stuart to look after Mrs. Mmmpho? Better still, if Donald left Mrs. Mmmpho ready for him, bound for him--helplessly bound, in her bed. He would do his very best to pleasure her, he was sure.

The thought of her bound hands, fingers fluttering against his exposed cock, did it. "I'm going to!" And thus, much as he wanted to come between Mrs. Mmmpho's wonderful and oiled breasts, she wanted to see--wanted to see the cum leaving his penis.

She released him from between her breasts, his pale pink erection seemingly appearing out of dark flesh. She brought his oiled penis up and out into the open, her black fingers around it, forming a tunnel, a vagina-shaped tube, as she moved her oiled fingers up and down: a delicious simulation of sexual intercourse. Mrs. Mmmpho's intent was clearly to produce an outpouring, the shiny penile head directed between her breasts, her eyes focused on the very end of the cock.

Stuart obliged; his penis did what Mrs. Mmmpho was asking of it. It proceeded to produce, out and onto her breasts. Stuart watched, his eyes half-closed in exquisite pleasure--watched as her breasts received the semen...his semen. White on black. Goodly spurts.

Mrs. Mmmpho nodded happily. It seemed he had passed the test. And much to his relief, Mr. Mmmpho did not all at once appear to make an inspection. Approval seemed to have been delegated to Mrs. Mmmpho.

Planning is everything. Retired and with not too many commitments, Stuart could devote his full energies to the request of Mr. and Mrs. Mmmpho. Helpful to the plans, he had a place out in the woods not fifty miles away. A remote shack, up a long and bumpy track. A place his father used to go shooting. A place Stuart liked to go and imagine...imagine, as it happened, just what he had been asked to do! It would be ideal for a ritual defloration. In his fantasies, he normally conjured up an assistant or two: buxom white girls with a penchant for lesbianistic practices. Wide-hipped and sporting strap-ons or maybe penis gags. Stuart liked to fantasise a woman with a hard-on, as long as it was leather, plastic, or wood! He especially enjoyed having them gagged with large mock-cocks rising up out of their mouths; a smaller one in their mouths, the other end of the double-ender strapped to their faces. He liked to imagine them fucking a helpless, bound, preferably dark-skinned girl, first with the cocks rising up from their mouths, then with the ones strapped to their hips. All before his own fleshy cock was placed to saw between the helpless girl's breasts, moving eventually to gag her mouth with a real cock, and then unload into her as she writhed, helpless and bound, beneath him.

Stuart did not want male assistants at all. However fine some people might find them, even having them both penis-gagged and erect for real. He did not really want to share the girl with another man or men; did not find the sight of other real erections, let alone spurting cocks, at all pleasing. He was happy with the plastic and leather varieties on his imagined female helpers.

Of course, in reality he did not know any young ladies who might like to spend some time in the country tormenting and abusing a pretty young black girl in a most sexual way. Lovely to imagine a so strong, so pretty, blonde girl, perhaps with a delicious French accent, utterly lesbian except for permitting her very close friend--him!--a complete liberty and freedom with her body. "Just for you, Stuart," she might purr (a French purr) as she opened her legs, "just your cock, just your spunk." Lovely to imagine, lovely to call her Chloë, but just a figment of Stuart's not inconsiderable imagination.

And, too, he did not possess a van. But such was easy enough to hire or, as it turned out, easier to borrow from a friend. The method of abduction was a little bit more complicated, though. Where to do the deed? Outside the apartment block? Sneaking in in the dead of night and taking Trixie from her bed or snatching her in broad daylight on the way home from school? With an accomplice or two, easy enough out in the street. Bundled into the back of the van, the doors closed and the van on the move as Stuart and one of the accomplices overcame her struggles in the back of the van, gagging, binding, and blindfolding. Without his lovely, but imaginary, lesbian girl or girls--like Chloë--it was all so much more difficult. Trixie was not small. Her mother might call her a 'little thing' and certainly she tried to make herself small and unnoticed, but there was plenty of her. She was not weak either. Stuart had not missed the firm thighs beneath her skirt. Trixie would put up a fight, and Stuart at over sixty was a man on his own. Army training helped of course, and he was fit enough, but still....

It would have to be on the landing outside his and the Mmmphos' apartments, he decided. Six apartments to a floor, and thus a risk. The Mmmphos of course would not respond to any shout of Trixie's, but her cries might make other doors open. Stuart knew he would have to be quick and efficient.