I went to Central Africa soon after leaving university; I prefer not to say which specific country, so let's just refer to it as C-A. I'd fallen for a religiously committed doctor, so when his church dispatched him to C-A to set-up a medical centre and spread the Lord's word, we married and I went with him. I never fully shared John's religious calling, but I never faltered in my support and commitment to his hospital. We spent twelve years in C-A, with our son Mark being born during the second.
All three of us, along with half the village fell victim to a vile parasite which infected the local water supply; dozens died, including John. I was at deaths door myself for two weeks and remained ill for a further three months; Mark thankfully, along with almost all of the other kids seemed to shake off his infection quickly and more easily. I, was cared for by the villagers during my recuperation, but when a replacement medical team arrived, it was deemed that damage to my liver left me susceptible to a fatal re-infection; Mark and I returned to England.
It was a bleak period for us both, losing a husband/father and having to leave a home and friends that we'd come to love soon after. There was a farewell party with gifts presented to mark our departure and promises made of our returning one day; though I think we all knew, that we'd never see each other again. The return to England proved less traumatic than I'd feared, both my own parents and John's were very generous financially, as too was John's church; we arrived to find a small, but very suitable house already furnished and decorated, which I apparently owned free and clear.
This house, along with a small pension from the church and payouts from two life-insurance policies tided us over the transition back into the real world, during which Mark settled into school and I found myself a part-time job. We settled down into our new existence and I was pleased by how little that period of trauma appeared to effect Mark; he seemed happy and scored very highly in his final junior school tests only a year later. More good news: with those results in hand -- and I've always suspected some intervention from John's church? - Mark was granted a full scholarship to a very good and local private school.
Mark progressed through the 'terrible teens' and to be honest I never minded; given the early disruption to his life, I was just happy to see him suffer and at times instigate the same sort of trouble and strife as every other teenage boy. My own life proceeded quietly, I changed jobs a couple of times, built a new social circle and had a few dates, I even got laid on a few occasions; just 'the usual', though I never formed another serious relationship. I stayed in touch with the villagers in C-A through those years too; writing a regular open letter to the village -- the world wide web didn't stretch that far back then -- and receiving many in return, it was a wonderful link to the past
Mark did well at secondary school too and at eighteen went to university to study medicine. The local university was highly regarded, though I suspect that Mark's decision to choose it was due in part to his not wishing to desert his lonely old mum. I was pleased and indeed grateful when John's church came up trumps for us once more, providing Mark with a substantial bursary for the duration of his studies. I should perhaps say that John's church were always good to us; they were aware of my mild antipathy and Mark's complete disinterest, but in remembrance of John's contribution and sacrifice, they've supported us all the way.
Once at university Mark discovered the church was financially supporting other young men in their studies there too; all from overseas, including several from C-A, though none from the region in which we'd lived. Perhaps because of his albeit distant, memories of life in C-A, Mark befriended several of those young men and there was often one or another calling by; I sometimes suspected, more in search of a few home comforts and a decent meal as much as anything else?
Even with the church's support these lads were still poor by our standards and all worked at whatever jobs they could find and fit in around their studies. Rather than the university vacations being a time to rest, relax and visit home and family, for these guys it was a period when they worked double-shifts for six and preferably seven days a week; not much of a holiday. I perhaps grasped their problems better than Mark; they were proud young men who kept their troubles to themselves, but none ever considered how much more I might have retained of their languages - both the patois-French and Lingala, a local variant of Swahili -- than Mark had.
As the months went by, my ear for their language improved, though I was careful never to reveal what I overheard to Mark and more especially to the boys themselves; in line with this, beyond basic greetings and such, I never spoke it to them either. I regularly heard things which enabled me to help them out without damage to their pride, often learned of personal issues and on more than one occasion discerned some vulgar, but still rather flattering comments and suggestions regarding myself. It was at just such a moment when I heard the word 'Mtungi' spoken, which certainly gave me food for thought.
CHRISTMAS DAY:
It had been Mark's suggestion, but I too thought it a fine idea: The C-A boys would have no opportunity to celebrate with their own families and the basic and overcrowded flea-pits in which they all lived were hardly conducive to cooking a decent meal. A blanket invitation was issued to them all: Christmas lunch was available at Chez-Harrison for any who wished to join us. The initial response had been good, but by the day itself there were only three boys able to attend, the rest having been allocated the Christmas shifts by their employers, with the luckier ones at least being given double-pay for it.
Joel, Mgumba and Pele -- that wasn't his real name, which was something even his countrymen struggled to pronounce, but he was very black and an exceptional footballer -- arrived at 11:00am and the introductions were brief and straightforward; I'd met them all before. We exchanged small gifts over a glass of sherry -- how frightfully English -- and once Mark had explained mistletoe to them, I gave each a chaste kiss beneath it, before returning to the kitchen, while the boys laughed and joked in the lounge. The door between was open and it quite lifted my day to earwig on the comments and suggestions that my appearance had generated.
With the genetics of my Scandinavian ancestors showing through, I've always been tall, slim and fair of both hair and eye, John used to describe me as 'a poor man's Lady Di'. I may be almost forty-four now, but though I say it myself, I've worn well and carry those years comfortably. My usual dress style is a sweatshirt and either jeans or joggers, not very alluring, but eminently practical for both my job and living with a teenage son. However, for today things were a little different; it was a party after all.
I'd chosen a dark above the knee skirt and a new cream-coloured silk blouse which was sufficiently diaphanous to show the outline of my brassiere beneath; the lingerie too was all new, skimpy, lace and adequately coloured -- a pale cerise -- to ensure that it was visible through my blouse, but without looking cheap and obvious. Stockings were the order of the day; I think the first time I'd worn them since my wedding day! The high-heeled shoes, once again new, were perhaps just a little slutty? A colleague from work had a pair exactly the same and she referred to them as her 'fuck me sandals'. With the exception of a handmade, yellow enamelled brooch which I'd been given just before leaving C-A, I wore no jewellery whatsoever; not even my wedding ring.
It was another hour before things were under control in the kitchen, during which the conversation between the boys had become increasingly ribald. I couldn't hear much of what was said in English -- their voices invariably dropped to a whisper -- but as that would have included Mark, I suspect that they toned things down somewhat anyway. That said in Lingala however, I heard clearly, all of it graphic, much of it lurid and some, in my limited experience, physically impossible! Parts of it had the butterflies in my belly fluttering, but none of it deterred me; indeed when I again heard Mtungi mentioned -- three times! - I was further enlivened.
With all prepared I served the boys an aperitif, a non-alcoholic though mildly stimulating herbal drink from C-A, of which I'd been gifted a couple of bottles when we left; this was the first time I'd opened one. It has quite a sharp bite and a rather bitter after-taste, one small glass was enough for any of the guys and when we sat down to lunch they all moved on to wine. I've never been one for alcohol, so I finished the small amount remaining in the bottle over lunch; the boys were far less parsimonious with their wine intake.
Once lunch was over the boys helped me clear the table and wash up, where after the new computer game I'd bought for Mark caught all of their attentions. After watching them for a while I drifted off to sleep on the couch; It'd been an early start that morning and I'd slept far from soundly the previous night. I'm not sure how long I slept for, nor in the first instance what had woken me, but I did so with a start and was for a moment disoriented. When my faculties did return, my first thought was 'Oh shit, are you sure about this Judith?' but I knew it was now too late for a change of mind.
All three of the C-A boys were ranged around me, wearing very little beyond predatory expressions; Mgumba was completely naked! The closest was Joel so it was probably his touch which had woken me and seemingly not before time. My skirt had ridden or been eased high up my thighs, leaving my stocking tops and the crotch of my panties plainly visible; a couple of my blouse buttons had been unfastened too, sufficient to display my cleavage and a hint of that lacy bra. I suspect that it'd been Joel's fingers working on those which had disturbed me.
Mark meanwhile was sat across the room, his countenance in the moment that I looked his way being a complex mixture of emotions, doubt, trepidation and perhaps a little fear; it didn't last though, in the moment that Mgumba pounced, I saw Mark's expression overlay with the same... hunger, as the other boys. Pounce was the operative word! Elbowing Joel aside Mgumba pressed one hand over my mouth while his other savagely ripped open my blouse and he all but shouted into my face: "I want you Mtungi woman, now!" Turning to the others he added: "Hold her, I get the first fuck!" He'd spoken in Lingala, but I suspected from his change of expression, that even Mark had understood the gist or at least the tone of Mgumba's words.
Things got hectic from the off -- as I'd expected they might -- with Pele grabbing my arms and Joel a leg; Mgumba was sat on my other leg, one hand still clamped over my mouth as his other quite literally tore the clothes from my body. Mark wasn't involved, nor even in sight, but I'd no doubt that he was still there, witnessing his mother's ravishment. Within seconds I was wearing nothing beyond my stockings and those 'fuck-me sandals; which certainly seemed to have worked! Mgumba's hand plunged between my thighs, two fingers driving directly into my pussy as he growled "Tight as a goat, but slippery as ghee." His discovery, once again came as no surprise to me.
That single penetration was all the foreplay Mgumba afforded me, moments later the fingers had been removed, he was between my thighs and it was his cock that was penetrating my slick channel in a single thrust. It been some while since a man had been there, but my memory was good enough to tell me that Mgumba was nicely endowed; he filled me. It was fast, aggressive and crude -- to be fair it might easily have been Mgumba's first time with a woman -- it didn't last long either. A dozen strokes perhaps, but certainly not more than twenty; I sensed his approaching climax and Pele must've done so too. It was he who called for Mgumba to pull out: "Not inside her... not yet... keep the Mtungi tight for the rest of us."
Acceding to that demand Mgumba withdrew at the last moment, his first emission spattering onto my bush, with the rest spraying across my belly, with the odd splash reaching even to my boobs as he roared out in his conquest. He was afforded little time to revel in it, Mgumba's roar was still echoing in my ears as Pele dragged me from the couch to the floor and Joel from behind then pulled me up roughly onto my knees, his erection already nuzzling at my vulva. I still had no opportunity to voice a protest, or indeed anything else, Pele's hand was in my hair, my mouth gaped open as he jerked upward and his cock filled the yawning void; a moment later Joel too found his target and I had two men inside me at once!
I'd seen women taken like this; from both ends -- Mtungi women! -- but I'd never imagined that I might ever do so myself. These two were a little less... frenetic than Mgumba had been, but they still fucked me like an animal, a dog, a bitch in heat perhaps? That was certainly one of the analogies Joel & Pele used as they called back and forth across my kneeling form. The language they both used in relating the feel of my 'holes' was shocking and their proposals as to what further liberties they might take had me shivering; I wasn't sure if those shivers were in horror and disgust, or from excitement.
When Joel adjusted his position I could see Mark once again, he was still sat in a chair fully dressed, but all signs of doubt and fear had left face, his hand was inside his trousers and his expression was lecherous... hungry... for me... his mother! No; as Pele's next sentence reminded me, Mark's hunger was for the Mtungi. Those words from Pele could easily have proved my undoing: He suggested to Joel that they "turn the bitch around and swap ends" Joel agreed and as both eased away and released me, I spun around like a young gazelle to accommodate them. They'd spoken in coarse and colloquial Lingala, Judith shouldn't have understood a word of it... but a C-A Mtungi certainly would have done.
I could no longer see Mark, but I heard the conversation -- or parts of it - that he was having with Mgumba. Joel and Pele's narration and the suggestions and incitements they exchanged blocked much of it, but I caught the odd word and could guess the rest: "Mother -- no - tomorrow -- yes - rape -...in the eye -- no - incest -- can't -- yes -- pregnant - no -- Mtungi?" I was distracted by another roar, this one issuing from Pele, as he abruptly pulled out to ejaculate across my buttocks and back, a few seconds later my mouth was finally freed as Joel withdrew too. But that proved to be a short respite, Joel shuffled around to penetrate my pussy for a second time and as he moved away it was Mgumba that appeared in my eye-line, though not for long.
I heard the rip of fabric -- my once beautiful blouse? - and an instant later, all went black, or at least dark grey, Mgumba had blindfolded me; it had to have been for form's sake rather than any expectation of anonymity. There was more shuffling around to be heard, then a cock probed at my lips, a little less aggressively than those that'd come before, but still insistent. As I opened my mouth to accommodate this latest cock, the boys fell silent and when it entered and passed across my tongue, I tasted what... a hint of talcum powder, perhaps antiperspirant? What I didn't taste was semen, nor my own juices; this cock hadn't yet been between my legs, so it could be only one.
The cock tentatively probed, withdrew, then probed again; the silence continued and having eased his pace already, even Joel stopped fucking me; buried inside me, but motionless, waiting, as were they all, for my reaction. As Mark's cock began it's second withdrawal, I lifted my hands from the floor, grasped him by the hips and in the moment that he commenced his next hesitant penetration, I jerked him forward to drive his shaft deep into my throat. It was as if I'd fired a starting-pistol, Mark grabbed me by the hair and fairly pounded his cock into my mouth, every bit as fiercely as those that'd gone before, while around me the three C-A boys now wildly cheered.
Those cries of encouragement were delivered in English, patois-French and Lingala, the words used being equally crude and obscene in all three with 'Mtungi' being oft employed; I think even by Mark, did he even know what it meant? Perhaps the best indication of how enthralled the boys were with Mark's incestuous penetration came from Joel; it must've been more than a minute before he again thought to re-start fucking my pussy! When finally he did, each thrust was accompanied by a chant of 'Mtungi', becoming louder with every penetration and amplified still further as the others joined him in this metronomic incantation.
That was when I had my first orgasm of the day and it was a doozy; I might've screamed the house down had it not coincided with Mark coming full in my mouth. That was perhaps what had finally triggered it, but it left me too busy swallowing and choking on the flood of Mark's spunk to say much of anything; a problem I was by then getting used to. Joel climaxed around the same time, unloading his first emission deep inside my pussy -- no one else seemed to notice -- before spraying the rest across my buttocks and bum; whether that was before, during or after my own orgasm I really couldn't say. In those moments my senses only had the capacity to absorb my own pleasure and the wonderful sensation of feeling my son's semen streaming down my throat.
That was far from the end of my afternoon, though with the lads' initial craving now sated, the pace did get a little less frantic, even if their desire didn't drop by one iota. The efficacy of that powder which I'd added to the wine -- another parting gift from C-A -- had been explained to me, but I'd had my doubts, expecting the wine's alcohol content to counteract its potency? Apparently not; immediately Mark had vacated my mouth, he was replaced by Mgumba, it was barely ten minutes since he'd fucked my pussy, but already he was as hard as he'd been then. Two minutes later another of the boys -- Pele presumably? I was still blindfolded. - was back between my legs.
It was a while later that discussions, led as ever by Mgumba, turned to my bum: Mark clearly had reservations about taking a turn in my pussy, so Mgumba was urging him to 'take the Mtungi's arse instead; she's yours, so it's only right that you're the first to open her up.' That had me shuddering, I'd known it was a possibility, even a probability, but it frightened me all the same. Mark still demurred, but in that moment the man still fucking me -- it was Pele -- growled, "We'll all be taking her arse anyway, so you may as well be the first to have her..." He then jammed a finger into my bum, adding "...the Mtungi's tight, but it's as slick as her cunt in there; she can take it."
I gasped at the assault, but couldn't deny his assessment, I'd anointed my bum with the same herbal salve that protected my pussy; another present from C-A and with the assistance of which I could allegedly 'accommodate a water buffalo'. Further mutterings which I didn't catch, then Pele withdrew from behind -- he'd not climaxed -- to be replaced by... well, it didn't take three guesses! Hands spread my buttocks and Mark's cock-head nudged against the rosebud which lay between; Mark again hesitated, until goaded by more coarse encouragement, he drove powerfully forward to penetrate at least two or three inches into my bum. Magic-salve or not, that intrusion saw me gasping for breath; not easy with a prick still filling your mouth!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!"That last word was almost shouted in punctuation of Mark's final and hardest thrust; his cock speared into me and I complied with his demand. 'Complied', that sounds as if I'd some choice in the matter; I came like the proverbial train and would've done so irrespective of any order from Mark, or even God Almighty! My orgasm was wet, noisy... explosive! I went off like an erupting volcano and probably scared the life out of Mark with the power of it; I'd never climaxed so hard in my life!
Mark allowed me the time to recover; how long that was I've no idea, I was away with the fairies following that climax, it may have been two minutes, but it could've been two hours or even two weeks! However, Mark wasn't entirely idle, when I regained my composure it was to find myself still sprawled upon the kitchen table, but I was now laid flat on my back with my blouse and bra unfastened and disarrayed. My skirt had gone completely and Mark was standing between my splayed and dangling legs, his cock -- as hard as ever! - half-buried in my sopping pussy, while his mouth feasted on my exposed breasts.
I suspect it was that which had pulled me back to awareness, the sensations and feelings that having Mark's lips encircling my nipple were equally deep, but far removed from those I recall them generating when he was a baby. Mark looked upward and our eyes met, mine no longer glazed and unseeing; the smile that he gave me left me wondering if his mind had perhaps been wandering along similar lines? Whatever, the moment Mark realised that I was again coherent, his hips jerked and he once again plunged deep, drawing a far from maternal groan of acceptance from me; he recommenced with the same steady, pistoning which had so recently capsized me.
Now that we'd each enjoyed the release of a first climax it was... easier, a steady rhythmic coupling, which felt as if it could, indeed I hoped it would, go on for hours; instead, after just a few minutes our rhythm was lost to the ringing of Mark's telephone. It lay on the table almost beside my head and in the way that youngsters do, Mark allowed it to grab his attention and reached for it immediately; it was half way to his ear before his thought process and perhaps my expression caught up with him. Mark froze, looked suitably embarrassed, then lowered the still ringing phone to the table; it never got there
Mark's expression morphed into a wicked, almost evil grin and he raised the phone once again; I made to berate him, but Mark promptly checked me with a finger pressed against my lips and growled: "Wait. I'll get back to you when I'm ready... Mtungi." Nettled as I was by his words, I couldn't help but smile; I'd made my choice, I was now Mtungi, a pleasure vessel for my son, or indeed any unmarried man who understood the significance of the trumpet flower. I was duty-bound to fulfil Mark's wants and desires and if he chose to ignore me in favour of a telephone call, then that was his right and the Mtungi must wait her turn; I said that my son was a fast learner, it'd not taken him long to realise the power that he held over a Mtungi.
I only heard one side of the conversation, but it was clearly with one of the boys who'd visited yesterday: "...No. no problems at all.... I'm not joking, in fact I've got my cock inside her right now... No, Mum's laid on the kitchen table, desperate for me to put the phone down and shag her some more... It's that Mtungi thing you were all talking about yesterday, Mum is one; well, maybe just a trainee Mtungi, but she's a fast learner... It's a yellow trumpet flower in our region, Mum was wearing a brooch with it on... No, but I can maybe get her one in the New Year; that tattoo Aaron's got is pretty neat, I'll ask him where he got that done.... Yea, put it somewhere that's not too easy to cover up... Of course, just speak to the others and give me a call when you know."
As Mark finished the call, he almost casually tweaked at my left nipple: "You've got gorgeous tits Mum; are you ready for some more cock?" Mark didn't wait for a reply -- I'm Mtungi, so it could only have been 'yes' -- instead he leant forward and engulfed that freshly tweaked nipple with his mouth -- God I'd just loved it when he did that! - and recommenced those steady rhythmic penetrations. I didn't answer, but my squeal of delight was easily translated.
The second phone call was less... intrusive; Mark had already stopped fucking me while my second orgasm of the morning ripped through my belly:
"...OK, yes... yeah no problem, he's from C-A... If he can swing it, I don't see why not... As long as you get here at least, I can't keep going for much longer on my own... Yea, Mum's still got her blouse on and it's pinned to that... No you can get at her boobs, but you're right we do need to sort something better; more permanent... OK, see you then."
It was with a degree of trepidation that I enquired: "Who was that; are they coming here?"
Mark began, albeit casually and steadily to fuck me again as he answered: "Pele; he says Joel and another C-A guy called Ran will be here in half an hour or so. you've probably met Ran, he's definitely been here before."
"And the others... Pele and Mgumba?"
"Mgumba's working today and Pele's got to go to the railway station to meet his girlfriend, she's visiting until the New Year; depending on what she says, he may call round later, but that won't be until mid-afternoon and probably later."
"I doubt that Pele's girlfriend will be too enamoured with the idea of him leaving her on her own while he comes here to fuck me."
"No, but Pele's hoping he can talk Tammi into coming too; she's a dirty mare so she might enjoy watching."
That gave me pause; ridiculous I know, but the thought of performing with someone... spectating, felt rather too embarrassing. As much as anything, I spoke to cover my discomfiture: "This Tammi, is she from C-A too?"
"No, Tammi's... really foreign." With that Mark picked-up his pace; our conversation was clearly over.
Mark only fucked me for another minute or so before pausing; a wicked smile crossed his face as he announced: "If we're sharing out the Mtungi again, I guess it'd make sense for me to open-up your arse before the other guys get here." Mark withdrew, realigned himself and began pressing his cock into my bum; I'd smeared a dollop of Seline's magic-cream on my bum earlier and I was nowhere near as tight there as I'd been yesterday. Mark certainly penetrated me more easily and the sensation of him stretching open that tight canal was even more pleasurable than I remembered?
Conversely, we were today face to face; surrendering that most unsavoury of openings -- most especially to my son! -- while being looked in the eye seemed most especially sordid. It perhaps wouldn't have felt quite so sordid if I hadn't known full well that my own enjoyment of Mark's lewd penetration was evident in my expression; I tried my damnedest, but I couldn't hide my guilty pleasure.
Mark was once again fucking me with a slow, steady... controlled rhythm, no doubt aiming to last as long as he could, so rather than striving to relax my bum, I instead constricted it tighter around him. The result was immediately visible in his eyes and had me smiling wickedly; Mark was further along than he'd been trying to suggest and wouldn't hold out much longer. In response, or perhaps retaliation, Mark's left hand released my hip, and thrust between my legs; two perhaps three fingers dug deep into my pussy and crudely assaulted my clitoris.
Our cycle of aggressive teasing quickly escalated, Mark's probing fingers drew a gasp from me and my hip's jerked in response, this in turn put even greater pressure on his invading prick and it was Mark's turn to gasp in reply. As my pelvis dropped back to the table and the tightening eased, Mark drew back before positively slamming himself into me -- both his cock and those assaulting fingers! - with a growl of "Take it you greedy slut!" Two equally harsh thrusts followed before I felt Mark's seed flooding into my bowel as I too exploded in yet another powerful climax. What had become of me? Rather than it being offensive, Mark's labelling me a 'Dirty Slut' had seemed fair comment.
We again lay gasping for breath for long minutes, before Mark rose up, walked to the fridge and got himself a beer; after taking a long draught he offered the can to me and I - unusually -- accepted and took a deep pull myself before handing it back. Mark reclined in a chair as I leaned against the table's edge; we were sharing a second beer when the doorbell rang; a tremble of... I'm not really sure what, ran through my belly at the sound. That feeling was exacerbated when Mark casually instructed me to go and answer the door. That feeling went through the roof a moment later; as I reached for my skirt and made to fasten my blouse, Mark ordered: "No... Answer it exactly as you are; you're Mtungi."
Once out of Mark's sight I did my best to appear decent, aside from the C-A boys, anybody might've been passing our front door! I didn't dare defy Mark and refasten my blouse, but I did spare one hand to hold it closed; a glance in the hall mirror confirmed this was still little more than a poor nod towards propriety, the blouse's hem barely covered my pussy and my thighs, which glistened with Mark's expended semen and my own leaked juices, not at all.
Another and yet more unsettling thought struck me just as I was opening the door: Dear God, it may not even be the C-A boys, perhaps instead one of our neighbours was delivering a seasonal greeting. So, despite my being in a state of quite shameless dishabille, my finding two smiling black men, one of whom I didn't recognise at all and whose expressions swiftly morphed into ones of predatory lust standing on the doorstep actually came as something of a relief.
I didn't tarry in the doorway, turning and heading back toward the kitchen, left the two of them to enter and close the door themselves; they moved equally swiftly and one of them -- probably Joel -- was close behind me with a hand groping at my buttocks and between my legs even as I walked back into the kitchen. Once there, Joel -- caught me by the shoulders, spun me around and fitted a cotton neckerchief about my throat; the significance eluded me until he then unpinned the yellow brooch from my blouse and re-affixed it to the scarf.
Joel stepped back, admired his handiwork for a few seconds and then promptly ripped -- and I do mean ripped! - my blouse off, he appraised the view once again, I was now naked save for the brooch adorned scarf and twirled me back around for Ran and Mark to inspect: "What do you think... better? Now we can see what we've got to play with..." Joel's arms snaked around me, one hand groping at my left breast, the other probing between my legs; I shivered and released a low growl in response to his vulgar assault as he added: "...And this Mtungi feels just as eager to be played with as she was yesterday."
Mark was beside the refrigerator, he'd been getting more beers while I answered the door; once those had been handed out -- I wasn't offered one -- the boys exchanged greetings. Ran made enquiries of Mark about events of the previous day, by the sound of things he wanted confirmation of the salacious tales which he'd been hearing from Joel; then both boys pressed Mark about what he and I had been up to this morning. Mark casually obliged them; happily relating everything in the most lurid of detail; throughout their exchange I was simply ignored.
I'd begun to get rather annoyed at this treatment until the word Mtungi was used and in an instant my anger dissipated. A Mtungi was what I'd chosen to be and as such I didn't warrant inclusion in their conversation; until the moment that any or all of them required sexual relief, I was simply irrelevant. I'm perhaps being a just little disingenuous there, the boys might not have been speaking to me, but all three were slipping me glances as they spoke; they might've been 'playing it cool', but those glances were acquisitive and... eager, I knew they wouldn't be ignoring me for very long.
It was Joel who set the ball rolling, turning toward me, but clearly addressing Mark: "How about you getting us both another beer while the Mtungi takes care of Ran? I promised him that we'd let him have her first as he didn't get a taste yesterday; in fact I reckon he's never had a woman."
Mark nodded his agreement then headed for the fridge. "Sounds like a plan; we'll have another cold one while we watch Mum teach Ran all there is to know."
Ran protested their allegations that he was a virgin, though even to my ears he wasn't very convincing; a suspicion reinforced by his obvious reluctance to do the deed in full view of the other two boys. I felt sympathy for Ran's predicament and with just a single look in Mark's direction, I shared my concern with him. My son's a decent lad, teasing, but certainly not cruel; he read my expression instantly and suggested: "Tell you what Joel, let's give Ran a bit of privacy as it's his first time; we'll have some lunch and take another crack at that video game, while Ran takes the Mtungi upstairs and pops his cherry."
While Ran again protested that he was no virgin, he was quick to grab me by the shoulders and push me towards the door, telling the other two that he was only doing so to make things more comfortable for the Mtungi. Neither Mark nor Joel argued, but their laughter suggested that they didn't believe him either.
BOXING DAY -- THE AFTERNOON
Once out in the hallway Ran's display of confidence deserted him and we stumbled to a halt; he couldn't know the way to my bedroom anyway. I took him by the hand, squeezed it gently and enquired: "Thank you for your concern, I will be more comfortable in the bedroom; shall I lead the way?"
Ran seemed unable to speak, but he answered with a broad smile and an eager nod; as we climbed the stairs his confidence seemed to return: Ran pressed close up behind me, his free hand tentatively stroking my thighs as we went; by the time we'd reached the landing, that hand had gravitated between my thighs. On entering the bedroom I released Ran's hands, reclined invitingly onto the bed and in Lingala sensuously enquired: "So how would you like me... Nkolo." To my horror that again left Ran tongue-tied and stuttering with nervous embarrassment, dispelling any lingering doubt as to whether Ran was a virgin.
In that moment I understood another facet of the Mtungi women; all I'd ever seen of them when we were back in C-A was at the parties or on the festival weekends, when you'd find them out in the street, naked or close to it with one or more men inside them while others called lewd encouragement and advice as they awaited their own turn. But logically and no doubt behind closed doors, there had to be this other side to that coin; where else but to a Mtungi would those young men have ventured to first lose their virginity? Rising from the bed I wrapped Ran in a fond embrace, kissed him lightly and whispered: "Would you permit me to decide?"
Ran's eyes were lowered, he remained silent, but his nod of assent was eager. I gently peeled the clothes off him, continuing to kiss him as I did so and in between those I told Ran how handsome, strong and virile he looked; to be fair, that required little exaggeration, he was a very attractive young man. Ran checked me as I was unfastening his trousers and for the first time he kissed me, he then enquired as to what he should call me. I was confused by the question and no doubt it showed on my face. "I don't want to just call you Mtungi and Mrs Harrison would feel... silly."
I smiled and couldn't help musing at what a pleasant change this was: For the last twenty four hours all decisions relating to me had been made amongst the boys themselves; perhaps with some slight deference toward Mark, but certainly without reference to or consideration for me; I was simply the Mtungi, my name or needs weren't relevant, just my... availability. I kissed Ran again, deeper and longer this time, with real feeling behind it; a feeling of gratitude. "My name's Judith and I would rather you called me that than Mtungi too."
A few seconds later Ran's jeans fell to his ankles, I pushed his underpants down his thighs and felt his cock bounce against my belly as it sprang free; the slap it delivered suggested that it was substantial. The first touch with my right hand confirmed that assessment, I could barely encompass Ran's shaft with my fingers; only a second later Ran unleashed a yelp and it was powerful stream of his semen that next slapped against my belly.
I was looking into Ran's face in that instant and saw it fall; he was devastated by his loss of control, for a few moments I thought he might burst into tears. With my new found understanding I knew it was time for the Mtungi to earn her corn; I threw my arms around Ran's head, pulled him to me and kissed him passionately, my tongue forcing it's way between his quivering lips to emphasise my desire: "Oh, thank you Ran, that's the best compliment you could have paid me. Even better, once you're hard again and I just know that a virile young man like you will be hard again very soon, you'll last for ages; that was perfect, thank you." When I kissed Ran again, he met my caress with an equal passion.
Ran's self-confidence might've been saved, but as he kicked away his shoes, jeans and underpants he remained bashful and unsure; he even moved to cover his cock and balls with his hands, it was so cute. I stepped close to kiss Ran again and as I did so I took his wrists, raised his hands to place one on my hip and the other on my breast, Ran's groan of desire was echoed by the sensation of his cock twitching against my thigh; he was going to fulfil my prediction about him getting hard again. I gave things another couple of minutes, during which his hands began to wander; Ran was clearly enamoured by my boobs and when I pressed his head to them he repeated that groan in the instant before his mouth encompassed one of my nipples
Ran's cock tapped against me once again, but this time it struck my belly; Ran was already as hard as a nail!
I led Ran to the bed, he was trembling in his nervousness, so I repeated the suggestion that I might direct things, his broad smile and eager nodding were repeated too. I directed Ran to the very top of the bed and bunched the pillows up behind him, he was sat almost upright, though not quite so upright as that cock of his; I hadn't been deceived, Ran was big! I was far from an expert on such matters, but Ran was much bigger than any of the other boys, or indeed than my husband had been; it was now I who was trembling, but from desire rather than nerves.
Ran's cock was gorgeous and I wanted it inside me; for a moment I'd almost forgotten that I was Mtungi. My task was to cater to Ran's needs and desires rather than my own; that brought a smile to my face along with a wanton thought of 'I guess this is what's called job satisfaction.' Hesitation over, I climbed onto the bed, straddled Ran's thighs and taking that beautiful shaft in my hand to guide it, I lowered myself slowly down, the sensation of it parting my labia and pressing through my vulva had me purring like a cat. I was slick, courtesy of Seline's lubricious salve and my own secretions -- God but I'd generated more than enough of those today! - so it came as a surprise when Ran's full length didn't just slide into me in a single easy penetration; he really was big!
Surprised, but far from disappointed, it took me two more increasingly forceful thrusts to bury Ran completely and the primeval growl that heralded my success was mutual; I felt fuller than I had yesterday when there were two men inside me, there were going to be no double-penetrations involving Ran! My choice of position was a winner on two counts: I could dictate the depth and force of Ran's boob-bouncing penetrations while displaying said boobs directly in Ran's eye-line; he'd been enamoured with them from the beginning and now I doubted if I could've dragged his hands and mouth off them even if I'd tried.I wanted it to last for Ran, so tried hard to control the pace of our coupling, but I was far from successful; the problem wasn't with Ran but with me, that cock had just got me so damned horny! I started slowly enough, but I found myself driving down on him faster and harder with every stroke; he did at least get some respite when I orgasmed and I managed three of those in barely five minutes!
My fourth arrived less than a minute later: I'd tried especially hard to control myself, barely reached half-speed and was feeling quite pleased with myself, when Ran unexpectedly roared -- he was like a bloody lion! - and his cock went off like a fire hose. The flood of semen flooding into me set me off and I too was howling with delight in my climax; we could've woken the dead!
Mark and Joel burst through the door not five seconds later and while they might easily have heard out joint screams of climax from the kitchen, they couldn't possibly have got upstairs that quickly; I assumed that they'd been listening outside the door. Both were wearing lewd grins, but it was Joel who enquired: "So how'd it go Ran, have you finally popped your cherry or did you come before you ever got inside her?" Had they been eavesdropping all along?
Ran was clearly abashed by the question, so I answered it for him: "Ran was marvellous, bloody magnificent. Next time we'll perhaps let you watch rather than just listen at the door; I'm sure you could both learn something about satisfying a woman from watching Ran." Ran wasn't looking embarrassed any more!
Perhaps I'd made a rod for my own back -- or more accurately bum -- with that outburst, as a moment later Joel grabbed me by the arm, jerked me off Ran and tossed me to the opposite end of the bed, declaring: "Get on your knees Judith, it's time Ran saw how to properly use a Mtungi..." Joel's calling me Judith confirmed that they'd been outside listening, while his tone suggested that I was about to return to the... harsher side of being Mtungi.
That was confirmed immediately: "As I was the last one to fuck her arse yesterday, I'm going to take it now while she's still tight; get her to suck your cock at the same time Mark, then if my cock's too much for her, the Mtungi can't scream with your prick half way down her throat."
Though I heard a mewl of protest from Ran, when I looked toward Mark, it was to find he was wearing a grin; my own son was seemingly happy to join his friend in what promised to be a violent spit roasting of his mother. I dutifully moved onto my hands and knees across the bed, I was a Mtungi woman, what could I do other than comply?
Joel immediately grabbed my hips and jerked me roughly backward, closer to the bed's edge; I could hear him removing his clothes behind me as Mark simply dropped his pants, knelt on the mattress in front of me and fed his cock into my mouth.
Soon after my concerns proved prescient: I felt Joel's prick nuzzling between my buttocks and just a moment later he drove his cock savagely into me, breaking through the tight starburst of my bum in an instant; Mark's earlier penetration hadn't prepared me for such a brutal assault and I howled in protest. The force of Joel's rough intrusion pressed me forward, forcing Mark's cock deep into my throat and as prophesied, my scream of protest dwindled to little more than a strangled squawk.
I didn't remember Joel or indeed any of the boys having taken me so cruelly yesterday; but perhaps they had, later on, when I was too far gone to have known about it? Joel grabbed me by the hair and pulled, my back arched with the tension and I'd no opportunity to slide forward and temper the impact of his next penetration. My bowel was lubricated with Mark's emission of the morning, though I suspect that alone wouldn't have proved sufficient protection and I gave thanks for Seline's herbal-salve as Joel drove into me, making this following thrust... bearable.
Mark had drawn back, just the head of his cock now rested on my tongue; with my neck pulled backward by Joel I wouldn't have been able to breath otherwise, I presumed Mark had worked that one out for himself? When Joel speared into me for a third time the intrusion was... acceptable, while the fourth was merely... snug; it was when I adjudged his fifth penetration... comfortable, no enjoyable, that the penny dropped! Be it something in Seline's back of tricks, or more shamefully perhaps something within me but I found Joel's next thrust arousing and the one after that positively delicious.
Joel hadn't eased off, he was pounding into me every bit as hard as when he'd started but I was now loving the abuse; was this part of being Mtungi, or had I always been such a slut? In that moment Joel's brutal invasion felt to be exactly what I wanted, indeed needed and I didn't hesitate to tell him so, wetly muttering around the tip of Mark's: "Yes! Just like that! No, don't you dare slow down Joel. Do it harder... harder still! I'm your Mtungi, I can take more... give me everything!"
My own orgasm had already torn through my belly when Joel delivered his final stroke, I knew it was coming as in the moment before I heard his gasping intake of breath and felt his fingers release their grip on my hair and bite hard into the flesh around my hips. With a roar to match Ran's of a few minutes earlier he drove himself home and held me there, his cock deep in my bowel and unloaded a flood of his seed. With a fervour to match Joel's, I similarly grasped Mark's buttocks, pulling his cock into me from the opposite end, his balls pressed against my lips and his shaft deep in my throat; I wanted to be spit roasted harder and deeper than any woman had ever known, even a Mtungi woman!
With all four of us sated, I made my excuses and retreated to the bathroom while the three men headed downstairs in search of more beer and more to eat. Or at least Mark and Joel did, when I looked around a couple of minutes later, it was to discover that Ran was leaning against the vanity unit watching me lather myself beneath the shower while gently massaging that beautiful cock of his. Neither of us spoke and Ran didn't move, so I turned away to hide the impish smile that his presence had raised and continued with my ablutions; I'd found it arousing rather than embarrassing to have Ran watch me.
I soon turned to face Ran again, my eyes drawn to his cock, which even flaccid was magnificent. Ran remained at his station, so a couple of minutes later I opened the shower door and indicated that he could join me. Ran smiled, a smile with far more assurance than any that he'd shown before; he shook his head gently, offered me a towel and headed for the door, calling: "Downstairs... with the others watching; let them see us doing it this time." He'd certainly found his confidence.
I followed Ran ten minutes later, having rummaged around to unearth a silk kimono which I'd not worn in twenty years; that and the neckerchief bearing my brooch were all I that wore. I found the three lads in the kitchen and wondered if I were still perhaps overdressed? Ran & Mark were in boxer shorts with Joel still naked, each had a beer in one hand and was tucking into to a turkey sandwich with the other; I suppose it was Boxing Day. They offered me similar, but I declined and settled on a glass of juice from the fridge.
For the most part we sat in silence, this hiatus lasting perhaps another five minutes, whereupon Joel cleared an area of the table, looked toward me in my chair and with only a jerk of his head, indicated that I should join him. My approach was slow and made on trembling legs; how and what was coming next? When I reached Joel he grabbed me by the hips, whisked me off my feet and set me down on the table's edge; stepping forward and placing a hand between my breasts, he pushed gently and I sank down onto my back, with legs dangling in mid-air.
My heart raced and my colour rose as for long seconds Joel, indeed all three boys simply stared at me. Still no indication of what was planned, though I knew I must've made a pretty picture; the loosely tied kimono was gaping to expose a good proportion of my breasts and below the waist-tie it'd parted entirely, the boys could see all that lay between my legs. Joel pressed a hand between my thighs, one finger dipping deep into my moist channel; I gasped at this penetration and followed that with a protracted groan as his finger scraped it's full length across my clitoris as he removed it.
Joel's face broke into a lewd grin: "You're still wet... Mtungi are always wet..." he then put the finger between his lips and sucked my essence from it. Another more...covetous smile appeared as he withdrew the finger: "You're fresh now too... sweet as honey." A few seconds after he disappeared from view, I felt my thighs being pressed further apart and a moment later the firm rasp of his tongue slid along the full length of my snatch; the growl which this action pulled from my lips was positively feral.
No man had done that to me since John had died and he'd been gone almost ten years; I'd always relished cunnilingus, but until yesterday, I'd never since been... close enough to another man to indulge in anything beyond vanilla, by the book, missionary sex. The second and third strokes of Joel's tongue ran through the soft furrows of my labia... up the left side and back down the right; I was in heaven as my squeals of delight no doubt signalled; that pleasure enhanced by a thought of: 'You can forget bread and butter, vanilla sex now Julia... you're Mtungi."
Despite Joel's youth and inexperience (though with my collusion he was rapidly addressing the latter!) he was certainly gifted when it came to tipping the velvet; a natural talent? to my admittedly limited experience, Joel's tongue seemed coarse -- like wet sandpaper! - and very... muscular; there was an awesome power to each stroke he applied. When Joel's tongue delved into my pussy I went as taut as a bowstring, when it teased at my perineum I began to tremble and when he ventured beyond to probe at the tight starburst of my bum... I simply exploded in orgasm; that louche exploration proved beyond both words and my self control.
Joel allowed me a minute to recover, but he didn't stop there; having instructed Mark to put his cock into my mouth - "another scream like that from the Mtungi and we'll have the neighbours coming to investigate." ; his head dipped and his mouth and now fingers too, went back to work between my legs.
That's where we were when I heard Ran's exclamation of: "It's OK, I'll go get it!" Which had me wondering: 'Get what? What the hell are these boys going to do to me next?'
In some ways it was a relief to discover that 'it' was the front door, the bell must have chimed but I was so far into my next climax that it'd not registered with me at all. That discovery was made when I saw a smiling Pele -- carrying yet more beer! - waltz into the room, closely followed by a girl; presumably Tammi? Both Joel and Mark paused in their assaults as everyone exchanged greetings; the one which I exchanged with Tammi was utterly surreal:
Tammi stepped forward, proffered a handshake and said: "Good afternoon Mrs. Harrison; I know we've never met, but Pele assured me that I'd be welcome to join you."
This as I lay sprawled half-naked upon a table, with my son's cock buried in my mouth; at least the man kneeling with his head between my thighs was no longer there! My reply suffered a moment's delay as I waited for Mark to remove his cock from my mouth and with that encumbrance removed I gave Tammi a cordial smile and politely shook her hand as I responded: "Of course Tammi, you're more than welcome... and less of the Mrs. Harrison, just call me Julia."
Despite the situation, it was all so frightfully... English. Though the deeper voice in the background -- I didn't recognise whose -- growled: "Or Mtungi slut!" drawing laughter from the boys and perhaps bringing some reality back to proceedings.
Tammi, proved to be a petite girl with milk-white skin and a mass of fiery-red, hair; her diminutive stature being emphasised by the hulking brute which was Pele, standing beside her. Tammi looked... otherworldly, like an elf, or perhaps the Christmas-fairy, though given her accent a better analogy might well have been a leprechaun; she spoke with the strongest Irish accent that I'd heard, no doubt what Mark had drawn upon with his quip of 'No, Tammi's really foreign'.
With introductions concluded, Pele replaced Joel between my legs, dropped his pants and pushed his cock into my exposed pussy; he was inside me before he directed even one word toward me and that was: "Ohh, I've been thinking about your sweet Mtungi cunt all day; you're just as tight and wet as I remember." Pele took me quickly and roughly, as the others stood by and watched, his commentary on the act continuing in the same crude vein. To be honest I don't remember much about it, I was distracted by and far more interested in, the reaction of Tammi as she too watched, while her boyfriend ploughed his cock into another woman:
The guys, as ever, cheered Pele on, but Tammi remained silent and beyond a small smile as Pele climaxed and pumped his seed into my belly, revealed little in her expression either. I suspect that's all any of the men noticed, but as another woman, I noticed the subtler signs too: Tammi's colour rose by a shade or two and perspiration broke out along her top lip, the same lip which her tongue repeatedly teased at; Tammi's left hand gripped a chair so tightly that her knuckles whitened, while her right repeatedly drifted toward -- though always checked just in time -- her crotch.
Tammi's legs were continually on the move too, rolling on the balls of her feet, to squeeze and rub her thighs together; that young lady was deeply aroused by what she was watching and I thought to myself: 'Tammi is hot to trot, if Pele doesn't get himself hard again quickly she'll be fucking one of the other guys.' I thought that may well be Mark as courtesy of the aphrodisiac that I'd added to his breakfast juice, he was the only one fully erect.
Which goes to show just how badly I'd read the situation. As the boys toasted Pele's conquest, Tammi stepped forward and spoke quietly to me: "Pele explained that you're a Mtungi; is that brooch you're wearing on your scarf the emblem he spoke of?" I remained silent and nodded; I was still laid prone on the table.
"Pele also said that as long as you're displaying that emblem, that the men... all of them, can do whatever they want with you?" I nodded once more, but did correct Tammi with regard to it being only unmarried men.
Tammi hesitated before continuing: "... and women too? Pele mentioned that unmarried girls could... call on the services of Mtungi women too?"
My stomach flipped and my heart rate went through the roof! Though I'd never witnessed it -- the girls choosing to be more discrete than the boys -- Tammi's words were true; the girls in C-A weren't precluded from enjoying sex before marriage, they just needed to remain intact. As I understood it, many, perhaps all, of the girls availed themselves of the Mtungi women; unlike the boys, the Mtungi appreciated the importance of those fragile hymens and were less likely to damage them through carelessness or over-excitement. That said, I'd never given that aspect of the calling a thought in my own case; I desperately wanted to lie... but the obligations of the Mtungi sisterhood forbade that.
My complexion was no doubt bright red... I didn't speak... I couldn't; instead it was another mute nod of assent, which drew an immediate and wicked grin from Tammi and saw her take another step towards me as she crooned "I'm not married".
That had me finding my voice, albeit not very loquaciously: "Wait. No! I... they... yes, the Mtungi do... pleasure the single girls too, but I haven't... never... I'm not... I've never even... fooled around with another woman... I wouldn't know where to start."
That made Tammi laugh out loud before replying: "Oh come on Julia, I'm sure that you would... you must know what sets your own bells ringing and we girls are all much the same. You're a Mtungi and displaying your badge... are you allowed to say No?"
My response was slow in arriving and once more it was mute; a reluctant shake of my head; whereupon Tammi took the final half-step needed to stand beside me and slipped her hand inside my gaping kimono as she spoke: "Given your... inexperience, perhaps it might be easier if I took the lead... and then next time..." Tammi's hand settled on and slid across my left breast, her finger nails scraped across the smooth skin, before scratching more insistently on my goose-bumped areola. To my own -- though from her expression, perhaps not Tammi's! - amazement, I pressed my shoulders onto the table and lifted my breast to meet her caress, while issuing a purr of delight.
An intrusion of reality intruded a moment later: The sound of Mark's voice growling, "Fuck Yes! We're going to get girl on girl show" followed by ribald cheers from the other three men; only then did I notice that the boys had fallen silent during Tammi and I's exchange... they'd been watching and listening. When Tammi's hand transferred to my right breast, giving that similar treatment, though this time culminating with a sharp pinch to its bloated nipple, my purr became a mewl and my only thought regarding the guys was 'Sod it, let 'em watch.'
While Tammi's right hand continued to scratch at my breasts, her left went to the belt of my kimono and untied the bow, but in the instant that she tugged it free, it was my own hands which pulled open the kimono. Tammi's right hand returned to my left boob and teased at its nipple, but in response to my wanton invitation, her head lowered and she engulfed the other between her lips. That mewl became a full blown groan of pleasure and the watching men roared their approval.
When Tammi's lips transferred to my left nipple, her right hand slid south the nails scraping across my tummy and when they continued onward to drag through the coarse hairs covering my mons I once again signaled my assent. This time it was my hips that lifted, in the very moment Tammi's fingers reached my vulva; it wasn't so much Tammi penetrating my womanhood, but more a case of my pussy jerking up to engulf her advancing fingers. The intrusion hit me like a bolt of electricity and not even the cheers of the watching men could drown-out the guttural wail that I released as my channel accommodated Tammi's fingers.
Tammi's fingers worked their magic inside me and only seconds later my wail morphed into a screaming orgasm; never in my life have I come so hard and so quickly, from so little... input and I tried to fathom my response during the seconds which followed my crescendo: Tammi had done nothing more than had a dozen men during my lifetime, my husband and son included, Tammi's exploration had been just the same... but somehow entirely different; for fuck's sake, was I a closet lesbian or at the very least bi-sexual! I felt Tammi's fingers withdraw and whimpered at my loss, but the disappointment was short-lived.
As my eyes refocused I saw Tammi standing between my open legs, a teasing smile playing upon her face: "Well, you certainly responded to that Judith, should I explore a little further?" Once the men's shouts of approval abated Tammi continued: "It seems that the guys are in favour, but what about you?" Tammi concluded with an evocative and none too subtle wiggle of her tongue.
My pussy tingled and my nipples ached at her suggestion, those sensations again bestirring concerns about my true sexuality; I prevaricated: "I... I'm... my... it's messy... down there...it's full of come; I ought to clean-up first."
Tammi's expression immediately answered that concern,her words merely confirming it: Tammi lifted her hand, it was covered in semen and my own juices: "I'd discovered that already..." Tammi then proceeded to lick it clean, she didn't hurry, perhaps thirty seconds of silence elapsed, as I and the men too simply watched her lascivious progress. Another raunchy smile appeared before Tammi concluded: "and that's just how I like my pussy... well basted with cum."
I was visibly trembling by then, not just from excitement, but with a degree of fear in there too; it wasn't Tammi's intention that frightened me, but thoughts of my potential reaction to her ministrations: "I... I... I'm not a lesbian!" that simple statement was half-way shrieked.
"I never thought you were Judith; but you're just as horny as I am... I'm not gay either, but it doesn't stop me enjoying sex with other women; they're just a different... source of pleasure; though you've already discovered that for yourself now haven't you. How about if we add some cock too... as a little reassurance for you?"
In the few seconds before Tammi disappeared from my eye-line, she turned to glance at the surrounding men, her gaze settling on Mark: "Slide that cock back into your moth- Judith's mouth, otherwise she'll be wailing like a banshee by the time I've finished eating her pussy." There followed another cheer from the C-A boys and no sign of hesitation from Mark before he obliged.
As I'd found earlier and it was more especially noticeable so soon after the tongue lashing which Joel had delivered; Tammi's oral assault was more of the same... yet entirely different. Not the brute power, nor depth of penetration -- at least not initially! - but a much more subtle and... thorough exploration of my channel; Tammi's tongue found its way in to crevices and corners that no man had ever discovered; heck, a few of them were even new to me!
For the most part Tammi's touch was... delicate, even in those moments when she became more aggressive, it was still... just right; I quickly grew to appreciate that the personal experience we ladies could bring to this task was something that no man could possibly replicate and I voiced that appreciation; Tammi had been right, without the muting effect of Mark's cock in my mouth, my howls of delight would've raised the dead!
When Tammi reintroduced her fingers to proceedings my arousal climbed even higher as she again displayed that feminine insight into just where and exactly how hard to apply her touches to achieve the desired effect. I really can't say how many times I orgasmed under Tammi's attentions, it was either beyond counting, or perhaps just the once... as it never completely ended!
Tammi's hands were small, she'd been penetrating me with two, three and finally all four fingers and that's when Tammi's delicate touch ended, her hand withdrew almost completely and when it re-entered, her thumb was in there too. I released a feral groan, as my entrance stretched wide to accommodate that intrusion, Tammi wasn't rough, but the pressure she exerted was steady and unrelenting, while her fingers and knuckles wiggled and twisted inside me, but always crawling forward and deeper.
Ran's cock had been dilating, but this... this was like a fence post being driven into me; I continued to groan beneath Tammi's assault, my hips writhed in an effort to ease the load until suddenly... it was over. With a liquid plop my muscles finally surrendered and Tammi's whole hand and more slid inside of me, her wrist bone bouncing against my clitoris as she burst through; my God but she'd sunk deep!
That outrageous penetration triggered my most violent orgasm yet and the sight of it, or perhaps the rush of air from the scream it generated passing over his cock triggered Mark too; he shot his load in almost the same instant. In that moment it was air, not semen that I needed down my throat and I pushed him forcefully away, all but Mark's first discharge spewed across my face and hair, while at the same time my own juices flowed in twin torrents down the inside of my thighs.
I must've looked a dissolute mess, as I lay sprawled upon the tabletop regaining my senses, but by then I was too far gone to care. By the time I recovered Tammi's hand had left me, she wasn't even between my legs, but standing beside my shoulder; dipping a finger into a pool of Mark's semen on my cheek and tartly popping it into her mouth. A smile followed before she crooned "You are a sticky-sight Julia, that needs wiping up."
I was still processing her comment when Tammi climbed up onto the table, lifted her skirt and straddled my head; I and no doubt the men too noticed that Tammi was sans panties. A moment later, Tammi's skirt hem descended, re-covering her embarrassment and my own too, as it enveloped my head in the process; perhaps the anonymity the cowl of that skirt provided made things easier, though I suspect that by then, I was beyond caring about my dignity either.
Even a half hour earlier I would've been mortified by this situation, but now... as Tammi's pussy sank toward me through the twilight beneath her skirt, my head lifted to meet her advance. I suspect that Tammi's initial squeal of delight might have been due to my catching her off guard with that eagerness? Those that followed however, were far more measured.
Ours was a glutinous convergence, my face still covered with Mark's come, while Tammi's pussy was so wet she was dripping and in that moment there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to taste Tammi's sweet flow; I simply devoured her. Tammi's grinding hips and squeals of pleasure left no doubt as to her enjoyment either, an enjoyment which confirmed her assurance that I'd know just what to do.
I'd expected, or at least hoped, that Tammi would reciprocate and eat me out once again, it's called a sixty-nine with a man and I presumed the same between two women? But it was not to be, after only a minute or so I noticed that Tammi's pussy began to grind upon my face a little more... erratically and aided by the voices of the surrounding men, it took me only seconds to discern why: Tammi's mouth was occupied by one of the men; either Ran or Joel by the sound of things, was fucking it!
My pussy did receive the attention I craved, but it was provided by something far more substantial than Tammi's tongue. My still dangling legs were pressed apart, the head of a cock was dragged twice along the full length of my pussy and a chain reaction was triggered. As I groaned in my anticipation, the vibrations from that fluttered Tammi's pussy and I felt her tremble in response. A moment later the cock drove into me, my groan became a gasp and one question was answered: It was Joel who was using Tammi's mouth.
The cock sliding back and forth inside me could only be Ran's; Christ but he was big! It was like yesterday but in overdrive. Effectively blindfolded by Tammi's skirt, another woman's pussy -- my first! - grinding against and weeping into my mouth and the biggest cock I'd ever imagined buried between my legs. I was in heaven and my orgasm wasn't long in arriving, nor Tammi's either.
I'm sure that it was the vibration of my squealing into Tammi's pussy rather than Joel's cock which triggered hers; I couldn't see how things ended for Joel, but Ran achieved his climax pounding into an insensible corpse; I don't remember it at all.
I found a second wind which along with Tammi''s assistance allowed our bacchanal to continue into the evening and it was Tammi who eventually brought it to an end: I was once again semi-comatose but still being used by one or other of the men, when Tammi -- perhaps sensibly -- untied the scarf bearing my Mtungi emblem.
I was too far gone to have done so myself, or even recall the moment, it was related to me by Mark the following day. We'd apparently been in my bedroom by then and having covered me with a duvet and appraised Mark of the dire consequences should he disturb me, she'd herded all the men downstairs and the C-A boys out of the front door.
Those latter stages weren't a total blank: I recall trying -- and failing! - to accommodate Ran's cock in my bum and giving Mark a blow job in tandem with Tammi was another highlight. When Tammi retained her share of his come in her mouth before passing it into mine with French kiss I came on the spot; before it happened I wouldn't have thought that possible!
Oh and when we'd first gravitated to the bedroom it was just Tammi and I, while the boys notionally enjoying more beer and sandwiches, though I suspect also recovering their libidos; we enjoyed a good half-hour alone. That's an experience I'm VERY eager to repeat.
THURSDAY 30th DECEMBER -- EPILOGUE.
It took me a three days to recuperate from our Christmas celebrations, but with the aid of Seline's oils and unctions I was now fully restored, a timely recovery too as the 'White Mtungi' was to be the guest of honour at a party hosted by Pele and Tammi tomorrow night.
I wasn't especially concerned about the event itself but by thoughts of the following day; I had barely a smear of Seline's lubricious cream remaining and not one drop of her restorative oil, so I would have to deal with the consequences unaided and was contemplating those when the doorbell rang.
I answered it to be greeted by a small heavy set woman in her sixties, though after a second glance I revised my estimate; the lady's physiognomy told me that she was from C-A and the harsh life ages women faster over there, she was therefore more likely about my own age. After confirming who I was, she introduced herself as Mwamini.
I invited her in but she declined and gestured towards the taxi a few yards up the road: "Thank you, but no. I am on my way to the airport and can only stay a few minutes." Mwamini then made another gesture, indicating a cardboard box sat on the porch floor: "I am here to deliver this, a gift to you from the mwasi ya mayele named Seline."
I smiled and nodded, not needing to open the box to guess what it contained: "And you're going back to the airport now; you've come from C-A just to deliver it?"
"Heavens no... I've been here for a month, visiting my son; he is a student in the town called Aberdeen..." I shook my head in confusion... disbelief! So Mwamini continued "... I know, it would've been more sensible to deliver your package when I arrived, but Seline's instructions were precise: The gift must arrive before New Year, but it may not be delivered until after Christmas."
I was still trying to get my head around that when the taxi driver hooted his horn; we quickly said our goodbyes and Mwamini then waved a scrap of paper in her hand and made a stuttering request: "My son... in Aberdeen... there are no Mtungi there... might I... give... give him this address?"
I smiled, grabbed a pen from the hallway table and wrote my phone number on the paper too: "Tell him to call me first, I will make your son welcome and promise to send him home safely."
Another hoot from the taxi and Mwamini scurried away, calling back over her shoulder. "I am to tell you that there will always be more; no need to ask, it will arrive when needed."
I carried the box inside still without finding an answer. Well... there was one, but I didn't like it: Mark had been right... Seline was a Witch!