My Wife And I In Africa Pt 01

This is the story of the holidays we spent in Africa, in a country whose name I will not mention to offend no one. But let me introduce myself first and foremost. My name is B., I am 45 years old and my wife, J. is 38 years old.

We wanted to discover the desert by going on a camel trek. We booked our trip by directly contacting a local agency, which organized a stay inside a caravan of nomads.

Once there, we were taken by 4x4 to the camp of the tribe where we were welcomed and assigned a tent for the night. The next day very early, to avoid the heat of mid-day, we set off. We walked sometimes on our camels, sometimes on foot. After a long break between noon and five o'clock, we continued to sink into the desert and in the evening, we settled our camp in the bed of a wadi.

If you do not know the desert, when I speak of a wadi, you probably imagine a river. A wadi in this region is always dry, except during heavy rains. As the bed is the lowest point of the plain, it is there that the water accumulates and forms a torrent. When it is dry, the bed remains visible because of the vegetation, rare but present all along. The wadi is useful to nomads because it is a pasture for animals and it is also the place where you can find wood for fire.

During this first day we met our guides, especially Mustapha, Abdou and Sami. Abdou even changed the name of my wife by deciding to call her Aisha. "Aisha, photo," he said, taking the camera and asking us to pose next to a camel or at the foot of a massive rock with a suggestive shape. It also happened that he said to me "B., You leave the gazelle alone!" when I teased my wife. Abdou is rather tall and wiry but muscular. Mustapha has the stature of a rugby pillar. As for Sami, he is between the two: average size, average weight. For my part, I look more like Sami with the musculature of an intellectual rather than a nomad. My wife is pretty plump, with beautiful shapes at the strategic spots.

I was not long in falling asleep the first night, quite tired from the heat and walking all day. The next morning, very early, I realized that my wife was no longer with me. I know that she likes to leave alone on the lookout for beautiful photos. I came out of the tent to meet her and at the same time do my business out of sight. The camp was still asleep. I tried to find her footprints in the sand to follow her tracks and search in a probable or at least possible direction. I walked away until I could not see the tents, still without seeing my wife. After about an hour, I was back but not knowing where J. was and I was getting worried.

Then I saw her slip into the tent. She had a weired look. Embarrassed. I told her that I had worried. She explained that she had got up before the sun rise, to take pictures and do her business too (paradoxically, it is never easy to isolate oneself in the desert). And then, while she was peeing, Abdou surprised her. She had to pull up her panties quickly, but the damage was done. He had certainly seen her squatting, her buttocks blowing in the air. She confessed that he had raped her.

I watched her incredulously. I should have been angry and at the same time protective but I was rather inert. It was probably because she did not correspond to the image, probably a cliche, of the raped woman. I asked her if he had hit her. She told me that he had come to her, he had raised his gandoura, he was naked underneath and he had shown his erection. He had then laid her on the sand and forced her. I asked J. why she did not scream. She told me that she could not, that she had more or less let it go. I did not dare to question her although I would have liked to have details. I was afraid she would tell me that she had not opposed the rape because she did not see it that way. Her attitude on returning under the tent was not that of someone terrified but as I said, she rather looked annoyed. Probably because of me.

But I still pointed out that what she had told me had at most lasted a few minutes, which did not explain that she had disappeared for more than an hour, even counting the time of the getaway. Her embarrassment increased. She did not seem to find how to justify herself. She hesitated to tell the truth. Or she was looking for a plausible lie. She finished explaining painstakingly that Abdou had brought her back to the camp and then invited her under his tent. I understood half word that she had not tried to escape him, that she had not called me to her aid and that she had followed him of her own free will.

After this confession, we both remained silent, each in his thoughts. She was probably worrying about the future while I was depressed by the past.

She went to take the water we used to clean up. She turned her back, removed her panties, washed her pussy and let her dress cover her legs. She could not isolate because there was no place in the tent to lock herself. I realized that she was cleaning the sperm that was in her. I pointed out that she had no more panties under her dress. Her cheeks instantly turned carmine and she confessed she could not. I thought she was hurt or had a physical impediment but in my misunderstanding, she felt compelled to give me an explanation. I was shocked to learn that it was Abdou who had demanded that she no longer wear underwear. I tried to bring her to reason, to tell her that she had no obligation to follow his orders but nothing helped. She remained naked underneath and even removed her bra.

Abdou came to join us. He held, hung on his forearm, a bright red gandoura. He asked me to go out. I looked at my wife and saw that she implored me to obey. I put my head down and I left the tent, leaving them alone both. It was the supreme humiliation.

I looked through the opening of the entrance and saw that my wife was naked. Abdou had ordered her to undress and she did. He handed her the gandoura and she put it on. I heard him say, "You'll keep this traditional dress and you'll stay naked underneath, like I am too, you'll stay at my disposal day and night, I'll take you whenever I want to. Concerning your husband, he will have to come out of the tent every time I come in, without my having anything to say to him." He went out and invited me in, saying that my wife wanted to talk to me.

She did not dare to look at me in the eyes. I did not say anything. Then she took courage and stammered that she had to stay in this outfit, which Abdou demanded. I pretended to oppose this decision, to plead for a common front, but I felt that my wife had changed sides. I did not understand why, but it seemed clear that the main obstacle to a refusal on our part was that J. was consenting.

The atmosphere remained heavy all day. The nomads apparently had settled for a few days and we had nothing to do but wait until we were called for lunch and then for dinner, taken on carpets unrolled directly on the sand, in the shadow of a huge rocky wall.

After lunch, we headed to the tent to take a nap. Despite the heat, I did not sleep. I was trying to find out if my wife was asleep. I listened to her breathing. I was quickly fixed. She rose without making a sound, thinking that I did not hear her. She left the tent. I knew she was going to join Abdou. I was left alone, imagining what was happening, what they were doing. I took a look at my watch to estimate the duration of her absence. She did not return until after three hours. She saw that I was not sleeping. She did not try to justify herself. She just seemed to be asking me to forgive her. Her eyes were saying "I could not resist, sorry."

After the evening meal, Abdou, Mustapha and Sami accompanied us to our tent. Abdou entered with my wife, leaving us outside. We heard them discuss. Abdou proposed that my wife take care of his friends. She refused. She told Abdou that she loved him, that she did not do this because of vice. But Abdou was inflexible. He said that his friends also wanted her and she had to submit to him. As the positions did not change on either side, Abdou called Mustapha and Sami.

I went in with them, determined to help my wife get out of this mess. But for a few minutes, the tension subsided because Abdou, Mustapha and Sami were talking to each other in another language that I did not understand. Then Sami came out. Mustapha, Abdou, my wife and I looked at each other without speaking or acting. Sami came back after a few minutes. He held ropes. He attached two at the foot of the central mast of the tent and a third at the bottom of a wooden stick at the external part of the tent. I saw him make sure they were tight enough so that they could not slide up.

Abdou moved our bed composed of a light mattress on the floor and a blanket. He asked my wife to kneel on the bed, facing the central pole. Sami winded one of the two strings of the mast around the back of her knees and with the one anchored to the outer post he circled her waist. J. was securely fixed, held at the front by the tie around her belly and at the back by the one around her legs. Abdou leaned on her neck to bend her bust until her cheek touched the mattress. She had the position of Muslim prayer. Sami wrapped the third string around her neck. She could not raise her head anymore.

I should have opposed all these preparations which I understood little by little the direction but on the one hand Mustapha was watching me and on the other hand, I was paralyzed by the docility of my wife.

Abdou lifted J.'s gandoura to the waist, revealing her buttocks. He made a sign to me to move to her. "You are the husband, it is your privilege to go first." As I did not move, Sami and Mustapha forced me to move forward. Then they ordered me to lower my Bermuda shorts. I did what they asked me. I did not have the courage to resist them. Then I removed my pants and I found myself standing behind my wife, naked ass and t-shirt. The three men could see that being under constraint and the image of my wife was making me hard. Mustapha made me kneel, lifted J's ass and made me understand that I had to take her doggy style.

When I penetrated her, I felt that she was soaked. I was hard and she was wet. I held J. to the hips and I was moving back and forth into her, more gently than usual. No doubt I was embarrassed by the presence of the other men.

Abdou patted my shoulder and told me to withdraw. I pulled my cock still stiff because I had not had time to ejaculate and I left my place. He crouched down, covered the buttocks of my wife with his gandoura and took her with force. My wife moaned under the assault. He grabbed her at the waist and stuffed her ass bluntly. We did not see the coupling that was masked by the garment but we could appreciate the amplitude of the thrusts and imagine that Abdou was fully pulling out to plunge back to crush the buttocks with his pubis. It was also understandable that my wife, instead of trying to avoid the shoves, moved her ass forward to accelerate the withdrawal and back to accentuate the sink. She was breathing louder and louder and screaming every time Abdou hit the bottom of her womb. He screamed and stuck in her, his belly crushing her bum, with jolts and contractions of the buttocks indicating that he was unloading into her pussy. All along his ejaculation, my wife had an orgasm. She screamed as loudly as he and her face showed all the pleasure she had.

Abdou withdrew, discovering J's ass. Her rump had remained lifted throughout the copulation, as far as the links allowed. J. moved her buttocks down her heels. It put pressure on her pubis and we saw the sperm out through the slit, forming long nets that went down between the thighs.

It was Mustapha's turn. He undressed. He was very hard. He said something to the other two that I did not understand. Then he spoke in English. "Give me your ass, my gazelle." My wife lifted her buttocks to offer them. He spread the line of J.'s ass and spit directly on the anus. He smeared the puck and gradually fucked my wife with his thumb. I saw the rose slowly open and the finger enter a little deeper with each pressure. It seemed obvious that he was going to sodomize her, maybe because the other hole was still full of Abdou's cum.

He coated his member with saliva and placed it on J's asshole and began to sink. I saw the glans cross the sphincter smoothly. My wife apparently let herself getting fucked and maybe even wanted it. Once the knot in place, the remaining of the sex entered without difficulty. Mustapha pressed on J.'s buttocks, which was enough to keep him fully stuck in her rectum. He began to move with loose waves of his pelvis. He was not going fast, but it was his weight that gave all the power to his thrusts. My wife's face was writhing, but it was hard to tell if her smirk was pain or pleasure. She felt in the depths of herself that man who was buggering her. I saw her carry her hand to her pussy, from underneath her belly. She began to masturbate in front of us, trying to synchronize on the come and go of Mustapha in her flanks. The movement of the fingers was as slow as that of the member inside her. He pushed, she crushed her clit. He pulled, she caressed around the button with her index finger in a circular gesture. He was pushing again, she entered three fingers in her vagina to lubricate. He came out and she ran her fingers over the top of her pussy to wet the seam of the lips.

It looked like both were synchronized in their search for orgasm. Without accelerating, they gently made the pleasure raise. Although I should have been distressed by the show, on the contrary, I was fascinated by my wife's obvious desire. I was still naked from my bottom part and everyone saw that my tail was stiff. I was hard like I never had been, without touching my cock. As with Abdou, J. came when Mustapha ejaculated in her intestines. The two lovers released simultaneously, him unloading, and her taking his load deep inside.

Sami, whose turn it was, spoke with his friends. All were looking at me during their conversation. After a long discussion, they got busy. Mustapha and Abdou delivered J. and then they told me to lie on my back on the mattress. They sat J., her bust straight, legs outstretched on both sides of my head and they ordered her to hold my arms under the shoulders. I understood that they were after me and I should have struggled, do not let them act. But it was the opposite. My wife and I were both submissive. I had my skull near her pussy, in the fork of her thighs and I felt the smell of cyprine and sperm mixed. I was lying along her legs.

Abdou and Mustapha each grabbed one of my ankles and lifted my legs vertically before folding them wide apart on my belly. They pressed heavily on my calves. The position they forced me to take largely offered my buttocks and my ass line, I was very conscious of it. I was also aware that J. was in an ideal position to observe me. She was very participative in firmly holding both my arms.

I realized that Sami was going to rape me and that J., who probably understood that too, not only did not oppose it, but rather was an accomplice. She tilted her face over mine and looked me in the eyes, seeming to say "It's your turn, you'll see how good it is."

Sami crouched in front of me. Like Mustapha, he spat aiming at my anus, then he spread the saliva with the flat of his hand. He lifted his gandoura, revealing an impressive rod. He did not take the precautions of Mustapha to prepare me and soften the sphincter. He went down on his knees and came directly to put his penis on my little hole. He stretched the opening as much as he could with his two thumbs and at the same time pushed to enter. It was so painful that I could not refrain from shouting, which excited them. J. looked at me and at the same time observed the sex that began to perforate me. Her eyes were bright, no doubt captivated by what was going on. Mustapha dropped some more saliva and used it to wet his cock. He continued to coat my line with his fingers and to push his member further. "He dry bugs me". That expression crossed my mind if it was not the slight salivary lubrication.

When he was deep enough, he raised his knees and pressed his hands on the backs of my thighs. He forced with all his weight and impaled me to the balls. "Have you ever been fucked darling?" J. asked me. I grimaced with pain but I answered "It's the first time, it's horribly painful." She added, "He's stuck his full cock in your asshole, I'm impressed, it's worth a look, it makes me terribly excited to see you forced like that." In short, she enjoyed the show. No need to hope for pitying her.

Sami started to move inside me. He proceeded first by small jerks in the end of my hole. He just pressed my buttocks, then released his pressure. "I like to see his ass going up and down when he's pounding on you, my darling, he's very muscular and the contraction of his buttocks when he's sinking is titillating." As he felt that I was becoming less tight, he accelerated his thrusts and increased their amplitude. It was quite surprising because without lubricant, I felt his sex slide in my rectum. No doubt I was able to produce my own secretions. In a way, I was wetting Sami's cock with my ass, allowing him to move his cock smoothly without feeling irritation. Sami slowed down the tempo. He was pulling out, pausing, then stuffing me and starting again. To my shame, I must admit that I liked how I felt when my anus widened under the pressure of the glans at the entrance and also at the exit. I was waiting for Sami to come back inside me.

J. said to Sami, "I want you to squirt in his mouth, I would like to see if he likes the taste of sperm, is it ok for you Sami?" I was stunned. Not only did my wife enjoy all that, but now she was proposing, that she incited them to humiliate me even more. The idea galvanized Sami who rushed into my buttocks without holding back. He literally smashed me. He suddenly withdrew. My wife pinched my nose, forcing me to breathe through my mouth. When I opened my lips, she slipped her other hand between my teeth. As I did not want to bite her, I kept my mouth open and she began to roll up my lips, so that I received the jet on the jaw. J. undertook to collect the puree and spread it everywhere, on the tongue and around the palate. "Do you like the taste?" She licked her fingers, leaned over and kissed me by turning her tongue in my mouth. "Sami, put your tail in his mouth. Open wide darling." I knew it was useless to resist and I was executing her orders. Sami still had cum leaking out of the meatus and I could not help but swallow given my position on the back. I finally had to clean Sami's dick.

Abdou wished us good night and promised us that the next day would be just as intense.

After the three men left, I washed my buttocks as best as I could and brushed my teeth. My wife did not put order in her outfit. She just stood up, her gandoura covering the legs down to her feet. After a long moment of silence, we started talking to each other. My wife was trying to explain her behavior. She told me that this scene of gang rape had terribly aroused her. She made me understand that she loved brutal fucking. She told me that Abdou had made her cum because he had taken her by force, that Mustapha had made her cum too because he had sodomized her so powerfully. The thrust against which she could do nothing was that which was irresistible, especially when she was tied up. And finally, she had experienced ecstasy by watching me fucked. That, she could not explain it. She did not understand why she had had so much pleasure to see me defiling, and even participating in this defilement.

She told me that she hoped that the next day would also be a day of debauchery full of surprises, she wet in advance.

For my part, I was the only one who did not cum. I still had a little erection. I asked my wife for permission to make love to her. But she refused. I had to masturbate next to her. She stroked my hair as I was wanking. To reach orgasm, I closed my eyes. In spite of me, the image that I saw was that of Abdou taking my wife on all fours, her gandoura unfolded above her buttocks that he was thrusting unscrupulously.