Jayne gone wild in Africa 2009 - Sex Stories

Jayne gone wild in Africa 2009

... eye contact with me, apparently unconcerned and undaunted that I was watching everything as Fode groped and publicly m*****ed her with his huge black hands. I was mesmerised, watching expectantly and she knew it. Then with absolute perfect timing she turned her face and said something very explicit into Fode’s ear. He jerked his head up looking at her with a surprised expression then stooped again so that Jayne could repeat what ever she’d said. The music was loud and he must have a asked her a third time to repeat it and this time she pointed to me and repeated it again. Fode looked over to me with alertness, and then looking into his eyes and with a dead pan serious expression, she slowly nodded and mouthed again whatever she was saying to him. I saw the look of confusion changing and a broad smile broke out across his face. Clearly what Jayne had said had animated him and he began to get more even familiar with his hands. First stroking her face and then his hands ran over her shoulders and returned to her hips and bottom. As the song was finishing they kissed for the first time. It wasn’t terribly extreme, just three soft pecks full on the lips. The first being exploratory and he clearly wanted more, the second just lingering and definitely exploiting the tacky feel of her lipstick and the third kiss endured for a few seconds, simply confirming the mutual desire for a more physical communion. Fode set off for the exit leaving her on the dance floor and Jayne returned ...

... to me at the table pulling her dress down over her nylons as she walked. I told her that what I’d just watched her doing was amazing, in fact beyond belief and then asked where he’d gone and she explained to get a taxi. I also asked Jayne what she’d said to him and she took a final puff on the half finished cigarette then dropped it to the floor crushing it with her shoe. She leant forward smiling and said pronouncing the words quite skilfully in French, “Aimeriez-vous fuck un nigga bébé de moi” My French is non existent although even through the haze of heat and alcohol I knew it was something significantly poignant to the situation and I asked her again what she had said and what it meant. Then she leant over again and with a sarcastic drawl repeating the phrase slowly and clearly with a perfect accent. “Aimeriez-vous fuck un nigga bébé de moi” It was obvious she’d practiced it a few times. She turned about to walk to the exit and from her purse she pulled out a small note neatly folded into a square. As we walked close together she passed it to me nonchalantly without looking at me then with her high heels clicking she went off in front. As we went through the entrance doors the noise diminished and the lighting was better so I opened the note and read the carefully prepared sentence. I pronounced the words in my head then read the translation written in Jayne’s handwriting “I want you to fuck a nigger baby into me…..” The warm night air hit me but not as hard as the ...