have a prodigious passion for
African women. I love their style
and elegance, but above all else I
yearn for their beautiful black
bodies. They are so eminently
gorgeous and s*xval that my
c-ock stiffens whenever I see
them in the street or imagine
them in my mind.
My s*xval appreciation of African
womanhood began at the age of
eighteen. I had gone to stay with
Aunty Sarah in Lagos, Nigeria,
while my mother was attending
a business conference in Kenya.
Aunty Sarah was not my real
aunt, but I’d always known her
by that name. She and my mother
had been at university together
in England, and had remained
close friends throughout their
lives. Aunty Sarah was divorced,
thirty-nine, generous hips and
br-3asts, lovely face and a very
welcoming personality. Her home
was large and sumptuous, with
numerous bedrooms and eight
servants.
On my first day I rose early,
showered and went downstairs
to hunt for some food. I found
the kitchen and the cook
provided me with an excellent
breakfast. Just as I was clearing
my plate the intercom buzzed.
The cook answered it and then
informed me that Mrs Makeba –
Aunty Sarah – would like to see
me in her room. I was escorted
upstairs by Molly, one of the
maids, and led along several
thickly carpeted corridors. We
reached the room, the maid
knocked, and we were bidden to
enter.
Aunty Sarah was sitting up in
bed suckling her infant daughter.
“Ah, Peter, come in, come in.” She
said, with kindly authority.
“You’ve caught little Elizabeth at
her breakfast. Molly, please take
this greedy little girl to the
nursery, she’s had enough for
now.”
“Now Peter, take off your shoes
and come and sit beside me
while we discuss your itinerary
for the day.”
I was rather embarrassed at this
injunction, but felt excited and
aro-used at the sight of Aunty
Sarah’s large naked bre-asts, and
as I walked to the bed my pe-n!s
began to swell within my cotton
shorts.
She noticed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Peter.
I still think of you as a baby. Give
me a minute to get dressed and
then we can have a chat in the
drawing room.”
“Oh…no…no…er…don’t get
dressed on my account,” I
babbled, vainly trying to adopt an
air of sophisticated nonchalance.
Aunty Sarah smiled benignly at
my bungling attempt to appear
worldly wise. Then, in an attitude
of mock coyness, she placed her
hands over her nip-*ples and
simpered: “Well, young man, the
choice is yours, should I get
dressed or stay naked.”
“Oh, stay naked,” I gasped,
pleadingly, conscious that my
pretence at sophistication was
not compatible with an
uncontrollable ere-ction.
“Okay, Peter, take your things off
and get into bed, you can play
with me for an hour and then
we’ll travel into town to see my
cousin Venus.
I stripped, and slipped into bed
beside her, she cuddled me
gently and guided my hands
around her satin smooth body.
My ere-ction ached deliciously as I
touched and explored her
private, intimate places.
“Now, Peter, would you like to
fv-ck or svcck, or both? My br3-asts
are very rich in baby milk so you
can suckle me for a while and
then fv-ck me later. Is that okay?”
“Oooh, yes,” I groaned deliriously,
“let me sx-ck your br3-asts.”
She sat up and offered her right
br3-ast to my eager mouth; her
n!p-ple was firm between my
tongue and palate as I imbibed
her sweet creamy fluid. She
reached down with her left hand
and caressed my engorged
p3n!s. My heart pounded as her
fingers expertly teased me into a
state of intense erotic
excitement. She moved me to her
left br3-ast and began to w@nk
me more quickly, rhythmically
working my fore skin back and
forth over my knob head. The
sensation was exquisite,
overwhelming; I was desperate
to ejacv|ate.
She realised I was going to
org-asm and suddenly stopped
her ministrations. “Oh, no, not yet
my beautiful white boy. Now you
must fv-ck me.”
Aunty Sarah slid down the bed
and parted her thighs. I knelt
before her and raised her knees
towards her chest to give me
ease of access. Her pudend-vm
was plump and inviting, and
extravagantly surmounted by a
forest of tight black curls. I
placed a forefinger inside her
moist slit and began to massage
her c|it0ris hood with my thumb.
She responded with a sharp
intake of breath, and voiced her
approval in hoarse whispers of
encouragement.
“Good boy…oh yes…good
boy…oooh that is so nice…do it to
me…do it to me…” She paused to
catch her breath, and then
resumed with a terse command:
“Fv-ck me!”
I obeyed instantly, slipping my
burning ere-ct!0n into her wet,
awaiting gash. She shuddered
and m0-aned softly. I withdrew to
the entrance and pushed in
again. I repeated the action,
embedding myself deep within
her body. She lifted her legs to
my shoulders and exhorted me
to fv-ckk harder.
“Come on my darling Peter, fv-cck
your Aunty…fv-ckme hard…fv-ckk
me like a good boy…oh yes, that’s
right, you’re doing it properly
now…harder…faster…fv-ckk me
good…oooh, keep fv-ckk!ng… don’t
stop…”
I fv-ckked with fierce, vigorous
thrusts, exulting in our s3xval
intimacy. Her breathing increased
to a rapid panting, she was on
the threshold. I fvckked harder
and deeper, my body flushed
with a hot tide of delicious
pleasure. The tension in my lo!ns
was unbearable, I had to come –
but Aunty got there first. Her cvnt
clenched in an org-@smic spasm
as her body shivered with
delight. I followed immediately,
withdrawing in the act of
ejacv|ation – hot gushes of thick,
white spunk streaking across her
br3-asts and face. She smiled, and
licked her cvmm splattered lips.
“Very commendable, Peter,” she
said, as I lay panting at her side.
“And you taste nice too,” she
added. “Right, come on now
young man, you can give me a
rub down in the bath and then
we’ll visit my cousin Venus. You’ll
like her –
