Ethiopian Trophy Wife’s Awakening

"If you change your mind, come and find me," she said, reaching over and squeezing my left breast, making me jump back with a squeal. "I'm always looking for a submissive nigger pets to obey my every whim."

In addition to the obvious... e.g. this outrageous woman inviting me... a total stranger... to have sex with her, I'd never dreamed someone might ever call me a 'nigger'. It was true I was from the Continent of Africa and my skin was extremely dark... kind of a navy blue-black colour, but my features were obviously North African, and very unlike the features of people native to Central Africa or the Southern region. I wasn't offended by her calling me that, but if I'd known then what I know now about racial tensions in America, I might have been.

My eyes wide, she sauntered away as Amir tugged on my hand, a sly smile on his face, and he led me to an empty booth with a Reserved sign on it.

I squeezed into the booth and slid my way to the back. Amir joined me on my right, and he placed his hand possessively on my leg.

After a moment, I saw a white woman wearing nothing but a gazillion tattoos suddenly dropping to her knees before a black man right in front of our table, and she pulled out his penis... which was huge... more than double my husband's. I'd never considered the size of penises... I'd just assumed without thinking about it that Amir's was the norm... and no way had I ever imagined one could ever be that big. Immediately, even though I tried to push it out of my mind as quickly as the thought jumped into my head, I wondered if a penis that large might conceivably bring me that magical orgasm some of my friends had told me about. I found sex with Amir pleasurable... but never had I felt anything like the body-quaking orgasms a couple of my Ethiopian friends had described to me in detail. I thought it was nonsense, and they were just pulling my leg. Sex was for reproduction. Sex was to make your husband happy. I'd never considered that something called sexual pleasure might actually exist!.

The white woman took the black man's huge penis in her mouth, and somehow managed to take almost all of the huge thing into it. My eyes went wide. I could easily suck all four inches of my husband's into my mouth, but I couldn't fathom taking much more... never mind a boa constrictor that was likely ten inches long... and thick! It seemed to be stretching the poor girl's mouth to an extent her lips were never meant to go.

My husband's hand went under my burqa while I couldn't stop watching the woman suck the huge penis. The black man, after a couple minutes of observing my entrancement with the wicked act going on three feet away from me, asked, "Want to come and join her, pretty lady? Double dick sucking is lots of fun for all three parties."

"N-n-no," I stammered, just before a very good looking white man walked up to our table and slid in right beside me.

"Amir, it's about time you brought your pretty wife here so we can meet her," the man said, his hips just a few inches from mine.

"You like her?" Amir asked, again getting a rush from the admiration aimed at me, and the compliments.

"She's very pretty," the man with crystal blue eyes said as he waved his hand and a waitress, one of the few women present who were completely clothed, although her attire was still completely inappropriate to be seen by anyone but her husband, walked over with some drinks.

She placed a glass in front of my husband, another in front of me, and one for the suave looking man... who was staring at my breasts the entire time... just like every other man I'd encountered this evening, making me feel completely uncomfortable.

The waitress said warmly, "Nice to see you again, Mr. Khan."

"You too, Bambi," my husband responded. How did he know her first name? And what kind of name was Bambi?

"You too, Miss," she said, looking at my downturned face.

I didn't respond, and she bustled away.

"So what do you think of my establishment?" The man asked me, still gazing at me in a way that made me super uncomfortable.

My husband downed his entire drink in a single swallow as he looked around... checking out the plethora of sex acts and slutty women all over the place.

"I never imagined places liked this existed," I answered, forcing myself to be civil, as my husband reached for my drink.

"Oh, they exist, but they're rare," he said. "I cater to a very unique clientele."

"So I see," I responded, my tone unintentionally conveying I wasn't impressed... even though I was trying to be respectful.

"You don't like it here?" he asked.

"I really don't think it's my thing," I said.

"No?" He asked. "Amir told me you'd love it here."

I looked at my husband... both of our drinks downed... and saw, for the first time since we got here, that he too now looked a little uncomfortable.

"He did, did he?" I asked, giving tone to my husband, which I never did... and this time on purpose.

"By the way, I'm Charlie," the owner said, extending his hand to me.

Still forcing myself to be civil, I took his hand and said, not giving away my first name, I'm Mrs. Khan."

He pulled my hand up and kissed it, "Well, it's a great pleasure to meet you."

In the past I would have responded, 'it's a pleasure to meet you too,' but I didn't. Instead I responded as generically as I could while still being civil, even though this man was both creeping me out with his lustful gaze, yet drawing me in with his hypnotic blue eyes, "You as well."

"I need to go the washroom," my husband said, quickly sliding out of the booth. He looked down at me and ordered sternly, as if I were a dog, "Now stay put."

"You're leaving me here by myself?" I asked, but he didn't even hear the entire question as he scurried away... in our culture you don't ever leave a woman alone with other men... and of course, you also don't frequent sex clubs with or without the woman.

"I can't believe he left his lovely wife here alone," Charlie said. "But don't worry, I'll protect you from the predators."

I looked around and saw a few men looking at me... even a couple of topless women... while I wondered who was going to protect me from him. Instead of replying, I remained silent, as the waitress returned from out of the blue with two more drinks.

"Since your husband drank yours before you could reach for it," Charlie explained.

"Oh, I don't drink," I said.

"Really?" He sounded surprised.

"It's a sin," I elaborated.

"Oh, there's no such thing as sin in my establishment," he said. "In here, you just explore the real you."

I didn't even know what to say to that, so again I remained silent while I got more and more nervous. There was something about this man I didn't trust... even though he'd been exceedingly polite so far... and was just so handsome.

"Let's dance," he suggested.

"No, no, thank you," I responded.

"Is dancing another sin?" he asked, taking my hand in his.

"It is if it's with a man who isn't my husband," I explained, pulling my hand away. But failing to take the hint, he moved a little closer to me.

"Mmmmmm," he said, taking a drink. "And is it a sin for your husband to dance with another woman?"

"Yes," I said, although that wasn't completely true.

"Then I assume it would also be a sin for him to get a blow job, or to fuck another woman?" he asked, slithering closer to me... his leg now touching mine. I moved away a little more... looking around rather desperately see where my husband had disappeared to.

"He'd never do such a thing," I said, which I would have uttered with 100% confidence before I'd stepped into this establishment of sin... where everyone was treating him like an old friend... so now... now I wasn't sure at all.

He placed his hand onto my shoulder and slowly glided it down my arm and breathed, "There's just something about a Muslim woman wearing traditional religious attire that's so sexy."

"Please don't, Charlie," I said, trembling from his touch, again looking all around for my husband, who was still nowhere to be found... and wondering if I should tell Charlie that what I was wearing wasn't remotely like traditional Muslim attire.

"And I see Amir made sure you wore the sexy white nylons I requested," he continued, his hand travelling under the table to my nylon-clad leg.

"Charlie, please stop," I said, trying to unstick his hand from my leg, but he was way too strong for me. My heart sank as I finally processed Charlie having just told he'd requested that I wear white nylons, and Amir had complied.

"Have a drink," he ordered, taking it with his free hand and offering it to me. "You need to relax."

"No, I just need my husband."

"Doubtful at the moment. I sense he's rather preoccupied."

"With what?"

"Just a hunch," he said, stroking his hand slowly up my leg.

Sweating and stressed, I seized the drink and took a big sip. Then another, and another.

"There you go," he said, still moving his hand ever so slowly up my leg. "You're such a good girl."

"There! I took a drink," I said. "Now please leave me alone."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"For your protection, my dear. There are some men around here with rather nefarious intentions."

"Oh yes, fuck my asshole!" a girl screamed from not far away.

My eyes went wide upon hearing the same words I myself often used when Amir was fucking my ass. So I just had to look. My eyes got went wider when I saw a woman who was easily in her eighties getting fucked from behind by a man who was likely a quarter of her age.

"It would be a real stretch for you to imagine any sex act that doesn't happen here," Charlie informed me.

"I need to leave," I said, his hand right at the bottom of my burqa... while I sweated profusely... this establishment super hot... and I mean heat-wise.

"Impossible. I can't let you leave," he said, his tone firm.

"Why not?" I asked. He was scaring me.

"Because if I let you leave, you'd soon get yourself into some serious trouble."

The old woman screamed, "Yes, come in my asshole with that big fucking load!"

I just had to turn to watch her continuing to get fucked, and the guy's funny face, similar to the one Amir made whenever he came in me, told whoever was watching that he was coming.

"Ever had a dick in your ass?"

"Pardon?" I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from the wicked sodomy.

"Have you ever gotten that big black booty fucked?" he asked, his hand sneaking under my burqa.

"No!" I lied, both to his question and objecting to his hand so close to my vagina.

"Interesting," he said, as I grabbed the drink and downed the rest of it... this place was like a sauna. A couple of years ago this heat wouldn't have fazed me at all... but just these two years of living in Boston had gotten me more vulnerable to the heat.

"Please, I really need to go," I said, shoving his hand away and scootching around the far side of the booth to escape.

He jumped up and intercepted me before I could escape and offered, "One dance, and then you may leave, if you really want to."

"Only one dance?"

"Yes."

"And then you'll leave me alone?"

"If that's what you wish."

"Fine," I said.

He took my hand and led me to the dance floor, where a couple dozen people were actually dancing.

Charlie waved a hand in the air, and a moment later a new song started. A funky number... I felt my body responding to the powerful bass line in the music.

A high-pitched squeal exploded from the speakers, and then super wild lyrics began as Charlie pulled me close.

How can I put this in a way so as not to offend or unnerve

That there's a rumor goin' all round that you ain't been gettin' served

I tried to shove Charlie away, but he was too strong.

"Relax, you promised me one dance... which means the entire song," he insisted.

As his hands went to my ass and he pulled my body tightly against him, my breasts colliding against into his chest, there were more taboo lyrics.

It's hard for me to say what's right

When all I want to do is wrong

As I tried to push him off, the lyrics got more wicked as he held me tight and ground his body against mine... the entire time I helplessly tried to break free.

Gett off, twenty-three positions in a one night stand

Gett off, I'll only call you after if you say I can

Gett off, let a woman be a woman and a man be a man

Gett off, if you want to baby here I am (here I am)

"Charlie," I protested, as his hand went under my burqa and to my vagina... which I realized for the first time during this surreal encounter was very wet.

As he rubbed me, he smiled, and was strong enough to hold me with one hand, as a strange sensation waved through me, and the lyrics somehow spoke to my own confusing moment.

She said you told her a fantasy

That got her all wet (wet)

"Why are you soaking wet?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered, as I tried to push him away but to no avail, as he rubbed me, and pleasure coursed through me, which brought me added shame. My body (and only my body) was enjoying this molestation from a white man I didn't know... his strong cologne drawing me in.

"It's because you want white dick," he said, as he slid a finger inside me, as the chorus of the song repeated.

Gett off, twenty three positions in a one night stand

Gett off, I'll only call you after if you say I can

Gett off, let a woman be a woman and a man be a man

Gett off, if you want to baby here I am (here I am)

"No, don't," I said as he fingered me... awakening sensations my husband had never given me. This good looking, charming white man was investing more attention and effort into pleasing me in a few minutes than my husband had during the entirety of our courtship and marriage, "You already know I'm married."

"So am I," he said. "Twenty-six years, and still going strong."

"Then your wife wouldn't approve," I said. That might be a good strategy.

"You mean that gorgeous gal over there getting double penetrated by those two hunky guys?" he asked, pointing out a pretty redhead wearing all black lingerie and getting fucked like crazy by two men simultaneously... one front, one back... something that had never occurred to me until the moment I saw it happening right in this room! How could that even work?

"That's your wife?" I asked, stunned. I look around again for my husband... where was he?

"Yeah, she's an insatiable slut," he said proudly as he fingered me, and somehow wrangled his thumb to my clit, bringing me a brand new double-enhanced pleasure, and actually making my legs give out... this pleasure unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

All of a sudden someone was pulling my burqa up and over my head, and before I had any time at all to react, the song's lyrics came around again, and somehow they illustrated my predicament.

Lay your pretty body against a parkin' meter

Strip your dress down

Like I was strippin' a Peter Paul's Almond Joy

Lemme show you baby I'm a talented boy.

"No," I protested, attempting to cover at least some of my suddenly scantily-clad covered body while an unknown someone cupped my breasts from behind... the lyrics once again cryptically suitable.

Everybody grab a body

Pump it like you want somebody

Suddenly I was being molested by numerous people!

Men.

Women.

My vagina was fingered.

My ass squeezed.

My tits molested.

The only saving grace was that no one removed my lingerie... my last defense against even more exposure and humiliation.

"The white lingerie was a kinky choice," Charlie said, admiring me.

"Yeah, she's quite the sexy slut," a young brunette added, as she reached between Charlie and me so she could squeeze my breast.

I tried to push people away.

I tried to fight them off.

My mind was getting foggy... maybe from the fingering... maybe the drink... maybe the heat... but my body was giving way and betraying me... making me too weak to resist all this molestation.

Charlie tried to kiss me.

I turned my face away.

He pulled his finger out of my vagina, planted both hands on my skull, and kissed me again.

I shook my head as he kissed me.

I kept my mouth closed.

Undeterred, he kissed my lips.

Again and again.

Someone else was behind me and they reached around, rubbing my vagina. A man? A woman? I didn't know. I felt so helpless as my tits were being squeezed, my vagina rubbed, and I was being kissed by this seductive, aggressive man.

I kept trying to dislodge him by continuously shaking my head, but to no avail as he kissed and kissed me.

He snapped his fingers, and immediately all the hands around me disappeared... and I realized I was the one doing all that moaning, and I was the one who catlike, had been slowly undulating my body against the hand that had been rubbing me.

He resumed kissing me as his hand went back into my vagina, and as the song played on with its nasty lyric and beat, I didn't even realize I was now kissing him back... and I was so overwhelmed with pleasure, that I was feeling things I'd never felt before.

"Do you like this?" he asked as he rubbed me, breaking the kiss so he could ask.

"No," I said, which wasn't a complete lie, nor the complete truth.

"So you don't want my finger in your pussy?"

"No," I said as he tapped my clit, making my legs shake, and come close to giving out on me.

"No?"

"What's happening to me?" I cried out in bewilderment, my body controlling me... pleasure consuming me... sin leading the way.

"You're letting the real you come out to play."

"But this isn't the real me," I argued as he slid his finger back into my vagina.

"You don't know it yet, but this is indeed the real you," he said. "You're a black pearl, and an Ethiopian Slut for white cock."

"No," I said as he fingered me furiously and strange sensations were coursing through my body... his calling me a slut added to my humiliation, as did the fact I was helpless to do anything but stagger in place as my body was being consumed with the pleasure this good-looking man was flooding me with.

He pulled his finger out, as the intensity of my pleasure was rising even higher.

I couldn't even believe the words blurting out of my mouth when I demanded rather urgently, "Put your finger back in my vagina."

"Call it a pussy, he corrected me. "And in case you don't know, this organ between my legs you're making so excited is called a dick or a cock or various other names, but never a penis.

"Got it. Then please put your cock in my pussy," I replied, never having uttered either of those words before.

"Or better yet, your cunt."

"Yes, put your dick into my cunt," I agreed willingly, two more words no upright Muslim woman would ever use.

"Good girl. Now hump my leg," he ordered.

"What? How?" I asked, as he kept rubbing my... my cunt.

"Straddle my leg and rub your pussy against it," he said, as he placed his leg between my two legs.

"But that's wrooooooong," I said, as he raised his knee right up against my pussy... bringing instant and intense pleasure to it.

"Do it," he ordered.

Horny beyond anything I'd ever imagined, my mind on vacation and my body in control of me, I obeyed him mindlessly.

"Good slut," he said, as I ground my pussy on his leg.

"I'm not a sluuut," I moaned, as I pleasured myself on his leg... which destroyed all my defenses... but I needed to keep this pleasure going, so who needed defenses?

"But you are. And that's a good thing. Tell me you're my slut," he ordered.