Gay Interracial - Sex Stories

Gay Interracial

... spoke to him with a thick, fragrant French accent. She asked him about American life. School. His friends. Surprisingly, she even knew his music, she was able to mimic lyrics from some of the Gangsta Rap songs he liked; they laughed as she sang the ghetto lyrics with her French accent. By the late morning she had her hands on his leg, we drove in silence as I watched her teasing caress. I knew he was on fire. It would have thought it was cruel if I didn't know she'd give herself to him today. It wasn't a good day for seeing animals. We stopped and waited at watering holes, we sat in the jeep while it was parked on a mill overlooking a mile wide sea of high grass. We saw a few elephants; we saw a single giraffe pulling at a faraway tree; we saw a herd of zebra, their stark colors dancing in the shimmering air. But these were all things we had seen before, and the rising heat between Michelle and Anthony was far more interesting. We stopped at noon. We parked in the shade of some trees, and ate lunch while we were sheltered from the blast of the sun. We talked about Mount Kilamanjaro while we ate. Claude and our driver had done the climb. But the conversation was just filler, something to cover our interest in Anthony and Michelle. Anthony was becoming more active now; he was feeling her breasts and kissing the base of her neck. There was a huge bulge in his shorts. The two of them were unashamed. I had spoken to Anthony that morning, I had told him about Michelle and I could ...

... see his eagerness. We talked it over - he wanted her, even if it meant being watched. Our driver was a young man from British Colombia, whose skin was creased and leathery from years in the sun. He sat there like Claude and myself, watching our two young lovers with his sharp hunter's eyes. The driver was used to things like this. During the days we had spent with him, he had told me stories about what people did on safari, so I knew that what was happening was not all that unusual. Something about this place, something about the sight of so many animals seemed to fire the lust in people. He told me that most safaris ended the way ours did - people realized they were going home, they knew they would never see such a wild, vibrant place again, and so they spent the last few days coupling like beasts in the grass. Anthony began pushing his hand under her top, reaching upwards so he could feel the bare skin of her tits. I glanced over at Claude. He was pale, his head was down, and he was picking nervously at his fingers. I knew he was sorry he had started this. He had the same wishes I had, the thought of his young wife being filled with black cock may have been exciting to him, but there were other fears, other doubts that rose up unexpectedly. It was too threatening for him. But he couldn't do anything, there was a momentum of energy between the two of them. Anthony's hand roamed over her tits. I could sense his delight as his thumb and forefinger played with the nipples. I ...