SHYAMALA AND I MET ON THE INTERNET. SHE WORKED FOR A LOGISTICS COMPANY IN MUMBAI. BEING A SINGLE MOTHER, SHE WAS INVARIABLY ASKED TO HOST AFRICAN BUSINESSMEN WHEN THEY VISITED INDIA, PROVIDING SEX WAS A PART OF HER CONTRACT. SHE HAD TASRED BLACK COCK BEFORE WE MET, AND SHE SPOKE FONDLY ABOUT THE SEXUAL PROWESS OF BLACK MEN
Shyamala and I met on the internet on 1st January, 2004. She had been a member of an Indian dating site for many months previously, and had received numerous marriage proposals from Indian guys in the USA, Canada, Holland, the UK, Switzerland, Trinidad and India, all highly skilled and experienced professional men. My meeting her was an odds-on fluke, but we clicked instantly. In fact, of all of her suitors, I was the most incompatible, as I knew very little about Indian culture, and I did not speak any of the Indian languages, in addition, I was unemployed. On the contrary, she was a polyglot, as she spoke four of the Indian languages fluently, and was employed as a logistics manager.
I visited India at the end of March 2004 and met Shyamala, and her family. I explained to her that my philosophy was one of an open marriage. This concept she did not comprehend, so I had to explain at greater length. I explained that I considered her body an outer garment, and disposable, in fact, I cherished her mind and soul more dearly than anything else. Still a bit confused, I explained using examples. I stressed, if she should have sex with a guy, and I found out, I’ll readily accept it, as it was just her outer garment that was soiled, not her mind and soul....At this point, she began to appreciate my philosophy!
This concept was soon implemented by her. We went on a trip to Goa and Karnataka, and her phone was ringing at least six times per day from male callers. As she spoke Hindi and Malayalam, there was no chance of my understanding the gist of the conversation, so I willingly accepted. I was confident that she was having sex during our courtship, but I lived up to my promise.
I got a job in Luanshya in Zambia in April 2004 and moved to Zambia on 3rd May. Being tied up on the job, and having come out of early retirement since 1994, I wanted to make an impact. As a result, my contact with Shyamala in Mumbai was infrequent and short. She even complained to her friends that I was not in any way romantic! How true she was?
I however brought her to Zambia on 15th December, with the intention of getting married on 20th. On arrival, Shyamala enquired what a western wedding was like, throughout her life; she had only attended Indian weddings. I explained the concept of the “hen’s night”, in which the intended bride had a full night of debauched freedom, with her female friends. Having just landed in Zambia, she hastily pointed out that she had no female friends there. I acknowledged that fact, and reassured her that I can modify the “hen’s night”, to suit the occasion. She asked in what way? I told her that I had two close friends, guys I had known for 23 years, they could take her out for a “modified hen’s night”. Shyamala readily accepted.
The next day, I approached my two African friends, Kapalasha and Kasaro. I told them that I wanted them to take out Shyamala for an evening, take her to a Zambian bar, get her drunk, and ensure that she had the best time of her life.
They readily accepted, and I financed them to the value of 75,000 Kwacha each. Kapalasha was quick to ask “Mr Ken, how far are we allowed to go with Shyamala?” To which I quickly replied, “Thomas, I want her to have a good time, and a taste of Zambians, sorry Zambia!” I think he got the message. Kasaro who was nearby probed even further, “Ken, will you not get jealous?” I hastily replied about my concept of her body being a disposable garment. By that point, my two close associated had gotten the message. I was honoured that our marriage in Zambia was getting off to a ZAMBIAN THEME!!!
In the few days in which Shyamala had been at home, she settled in to the primitive life amicably. I was proud of my prospective wife’s ability to adapt to her new home.
She cooked on a primitive charcoal stove and visited the maize plot and assisted with the clearing of the weeds.
I came home and explained to Shyamala that Kapalasha and Kasaro were going to take her out for the “modified hen’s night”, and that she must comply with their demands, as such occasions will only strengthen our marriage in time. She was anxious to know what was involved.
I remained tight lipped and just reassured her that “She would thoroughly enjoy the experience, and I would never feel cheated, jealous or demeaned!” With those words, I think she got the message!
In preparation for the outing that evening with the two virile Africans, Shyamala applied a homemade facial mask, to look young, as Kapalasha and Kasaro were both ten years younger that she was.
The facial mask worked wonders, just proving the innovativeness of the Indian woman? One problem remained though; she did not shave her pussy. The pubic hair was verdant, as is the custom with Indian women. I knew that African men despised a bushy pussy. How was I going to tell Shyamala that she ought to shave? I hoped that the beer which would have numbed the brains of Kapalasha and Kasaro would not draw their attention to Shyamala’s bushy pussy? Very often, when the animal instincts kicked in, African men were only interested in entering a pussy and ejaculating, rather than worrying about its appearance, or cleanliness!
On the appointed evening of 17th December, a grinning Kapalasha came to my house to pick up Shyamala, who appeared to be slightly nervous. I reassured her that what she was about to embark upon was going to be the catalyst for our happiness until we died. Encouraged by those words, she kisses Kapalasha’s thick lips and entered his beaten up and old Toyota Corona car. Without saying goodbye, the two “love birds” sped off to pick up Kasaro then head to the secluded Chikapa club in Roan Township, where they could drink, fondle, dance and kiss in peace.
Kapalasha, being the extrovert, bought three bottles of Castle beer and took them to a dark corner of the bar where Kasaro and Shyamala were already seated. Kasaro already hid his hands up Shyamala’s legs. This was the first time that he was meeting socially with an Indian woman, and he did not intend to lose any time.
Kasaro grew up in Chipata in Eastern Zambia where the Indian population was quite sizeable. Being affluent, he was always jealous of Indian kids, boys as well as Girls. He knew that his abject poverty meant that he would never be able to speak to them, never mind be in intimate contact. Being able to do that with Shyamala, was brain numbing! He was not going to miss a second of opportunity.
On the other hand, Kapalasha’s father worked for an Indian man in Kabwe, the owner of Kabwe Transport. He was also wary of the affluence of Indians in Zambia, and the status their children commanded. So being in so close proximity to an Indian woman, and being given the “carte blache” to make her happy...was God sent! He was also intent on seizing the opportunity!
Rumba music played non-stop on the juke box. Shyamala got and danced suggestively at least 12 times, on each occasion, she had no fewer than 20 very young male spectators. They made suggestive comments in the local language “Bemba” about how they would love to fuck the “Mwenye” (Indian) woman that night. Overhearing that, Kapalasha and Kasaro were bolstered, because they knew that the prize was in their crotch that night!!! They continued to drink the free beer which I had financed, in the secluded, and exclusive, comfort of Chikapa club.
Between songs, Shyamala went to the toilet, one young Black boy remarked that, “Her pussy must have been dripping wet, to see so many “Muntus” (blacks) admiring her, hence the need to rush off and dry it so often.” These young Africans are extremely mature and street wise for their age, and 90% of them start having sex from the age of 12 onwards. I’m sure many would have cherished the opportunity to fuck Shyamala that fateful night?
As the night progressed, Shyamala took off her black scarf. A sure sign that she was feeling hot.
After her 5th beer, at exactly 2320 hours, she told Kapalasha and Kasaro that she was feeling hot, and suggested that they went outside to cool off. Kapalasha, being an environmental engineer, and quite adept at the geography of the area, suggested that they drive to the top of Chonga tailings dam, which was 100 metres higher, and hence cooler. They did the normally 10 minute’s journey in 6 minutes flat.
On reaching Chonga dam, the three of them got out. Kapalasha and Kasaro were on either side of Shyamala. One caressed her breasts while the other fingered her dripping wet pussy. So the youngster in the bar was correct. Shyamala absorbed the sublime feeling and purred, “My God, you Africans certainly know how to make a woman feel nice. Thank you guys, you are the best friends I’ve had in Zambia in the few days I’ve been here!” Kapalasha replied, “My sweeeeet Shyamala, this is only the appetiser, wait until you see what we have in store for you!” Shyamala was dumb struck, she could only mutter, “Mmmmm mmmmmm!”
That was all the consent the two well endowed Africans needed. They knew that their well contrived plan was near fruition.
As if it was a sigh from God, as that was going on, my phone rang, there was a breakdown in the plant and I had to rush off to give logistical support.
I was to be occupied in the plant for the next four hours, so my total concentration was focused on the job in hand and I had totally forgotten about Shyamala, and her whereabouts.
From the sliminess of her pussy, Kasaro could decipher that Shyamala was ready to be fucked. His 10 inch cock was throbbing in his jeans. Kapalasha simultaneously figured out from the hardness of her nipples, that she was also ready. His 11 inch cock was painfully trying to break through his pants also.
Kasaro took the initiative and said, “Let us retire to the comfort of the car?” As if by automation, he reclined the passenger’s seat, and simultaneously kicked off his jeans. His thick 10 inch cock was hard and pointing skywards like a missile. He commanded Shyamala to mount it. Being well lubricated, she accommodated the entire shaft in 20 minutes flat, just wriggling comfort to get accustomed to the sight. Kasaro felt nice, the heavenly feeling made him comment, “Indian men must have small cocks, why should a 46 yo woman have such a tight pussy, 13 yo Zambian school girls have bigger pussies than this!!!” He took a deep breath to savour the feeling, then continued, “Fuck me bitch, fuck a Nigga, I know you must have always dreamt of a sweet and stiffff black cock, this is your chance bitch, make the most of it?”
Kapalasha needed relief also; he could not wait his chance for Shyamala’s pussy, so he decided to go for her mouth.
He shoved his firm and hard 11 inch cock towards Shyamala’s face, it felt like a metal spear. But this was going to be a once in a lifetime chance and Shyamala was intent on making the most of it, despite the pain, humiliation or insults. After all, there was no guilt as Ken had given his approval. That made her feel more relaxed, and she started to savour the rare opportunity. In fact, her mind started roaming, she thought of her friends like Malati, Merlin and Mookambica who would love such well endowed cocks! He was fortunate indeed to have such an understanding husband. She hoped that this experience was the beginning of a bright and adventurous married life with Ken. She continued to reflect while enjoying the massive cock. She now realised what Ken meant that his wife’s body was like a disposable garment?
Kapalasha felt that he needed to comment, he urged Shyamala, “Suck you high class Indian whore, what will your friends in India think if they hear that you are fucking two primitive Africans in the bush?” He paused, then continued, “You must email them your experience, and let them salivate for a sweet black cock!”
Shyamala was numb, she could only purr, “Mmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm, sweeeeeeeeeeet, my God, Niggars are the best, thank you Krishna, thank you Ken. I love you both, and will always do!!!” She then burst into Hindi, “Bahut accha, garam, garam, mirch masala!!!”
The two guys had been pounding Shyamala for at least 15 minutes, and were nowhere near ejaculation. Fucking an Indian woman for the first time boosted their egos, and libidos.
Kasaro enjoyed the tight pussy but Kapalasha did not enjoy Shyamala’s blowjob. A vital ingredient was missing. He was starting thinking that Grace N’gulube and Rosaria Simwanza had sucked his cock much better. But, having an Indian suck a Muntu’s cock was a rare event, so he was contented. The guys must have pounding Shyamala unrelentingly for about 15 minutes when there was a tapping on the car’s window. Kasaro screamed, “For fuck sake, I hope it is not mine police!!” Shyamala was near orgasm, so the encouraged him, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop...I need to cum badly, I’m minutes away, keep on pumping that sweet cock in my pussy. I’m nearly there homey, ignore him!!!” Kapalasha who was less in demand answered the tapping in Bemba, “We have an Indian woman in here that we are fucking, and the bitch is enjoying Muntus’ cocks, as is there is no tomorrow, it must be the biggest she has tried!” The guy who was outside screamed, “INDIAN!!!!!” Then paused, and continued, “Thank God, Christmas has come one week early!!!” He then went on, “OK guys, hurry up, when you are finished with the bitch, send her out, I have a score to settle!” The guy outside was Laston Jere, a Malawian by birth, but a resident of Luanshya. Laston was returning from catching fish in the lake at Chonga dam. Apparently his 14yo niece worked as a housecleaner for a 66yo Indian shopkeeper in Blantyre in 1984. When Mr. Dhirubhai Patel’s wife went to India on holiday that year, he got young Malita Banda to live in his house and keep his company. Every night, Mr. Patel sodomised the girl. The girl suffered irreparable damage and was admitted in the mental hospital in Zomba in Malawi. Patel used his influence, and refused to pay the family any compensation. From that day onwards, Laston promised the family that he will avenge the wrong committed by Patel on Malita. He has been looking for an opportunity to sodomise an Indian woman. Tonight was his chance. Little did Shyamala know about Laston’s well contrived plot, which had been fomenting in his revengeful brain for two decades!!
Laston was a massive six foot plus guy, fit and athletic. Kasaro ejaculated with a prolonged “Ayyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee!!!” And Shyamala was not far behind with an “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Only Kapalasha was the man left standing.
Intent on trying a different tactic, he pulled a limp Shyamala out of the car and handed her over to Laston Jere. With the sound of Kasaro’s and Shyamala’s orgasms, his cock was ready to go. Shyamala barely able to stay steady on her knees, he plunged his erect 10 inch cock into her ass. Shyamala’s scream was deafening. Laston was scared that the villagers from the neighbouring village at Chilubula would come to investigate. So to muffle Shyamala’s scream, Laston asked Kapalasha to plug her mouth with his still stiff cock, which he did.
Miraculously, the ass fucking was the catalyst Shyamala needed to start sucking properly. Her sucking of the cock was now an enjoyable exercise. Kapalasha, being a scientist, surmised that she needed pain in her rear end to be able to perform better in front! In fact, she sucked his 11 inch cock so well that he went into stupor. He started giggling and did not stop, enjoying every second of the Indian woman sucking his black cock. The sucking and Laston’s buggering went on for about 20 minutes before they both ejaculated within a minute of each other. In the end, Kapalasha admitted that it was the best blowjob he had ever received. He fondly spoke about it until his death. Laston thanked Shyamala for “Righting the wrong which was committed by her countryman, Mr. Patel. In fact, being a qualified plumber, he volunteered to repair the plumbing at Mr. Ken’s house which was in a bad shape. Laston must have visited Shyamala at least 12 times before the plumbing got fixed. Mr. Ken was happy, his water pressure had improved. Shyamala was happy, and so was Laston.
It was 0130 before the guys dropped Shyamala at Mr. Ken’s house. Shyamala could not walk steadily on her feet, either due to the beer she had drunk, or more so, the brutal fucking she had received at the hands of the three well endowed Niggers!
The maid Brenda opened the door, and saw the dishevelled appearance of Shyamala. She immediately ran a bath and helped her into it. Shyamala soaked in the bath for 90 long minutes. She staggered out, dried her skin, and slumped on the bed.
Mr. Ken came home from the plant at 0430 and found Shyamala sitting up in bed. The appearance of her face showed that she was in pain. Her legs were wide apart and she was fanning air to cool her pussy and ass.
Shyamala complained that her jaw, pussy and ass were hurting badly. Mr. Ken knew exactly what had happened, after all, he had planned it. He promised to be able to bring relief to two, the pussy and ass, by rubbing with cocoa butter. He loaded the middle finger of each hand with a copious amount of cocoa butter and sent about massaging the orifices. In the process, he got a weak erection. Shyamala spotting his minuscule cock in a semi erect form, decided to rub him to ejaculation. Mr. Ken did not reach full erection and had ejaculated in 90 seconds. Shyamala felt reprieved. They were both happy.
That evening, Mr. Ken had to repeat his cocoa butter treatment of Shyamala’s pussy and ass, as they still hurt. In fact, the pussy had not fully closed up!
Two days later, the maid Brenda observed that Shyamala was still limping as she walked around the yard in a dazed stupor. She complained to Mr. Ken that the madam could be suffering from malaria. Mr. Ken reassured Brenda that Shyamala was fine and would be cured by time.
She was cured in 16 days time. It would have been faster, had Laston Jere not come to fix the plumbing!!!
The marriage took place on 20th December 2004. Throughout the ceremony, Shyamala was in pain, but finding a husband negated some of the effect of the pain.
Shyamala and Mr. Ken are envied by all of their friends in Mumbai. They are described as the “perfect couple” by everyone. How little do they know of what it entailed to find such a WINNING RECIPE???? When asked, Mr. Ken jokes.....Planning, Pain, Humiliation, Mind control, Cooperation and Tolerance!! Friends often encourage the couple to write a book on "HEALTHY and LASTING MARRIAGE". In conservative India, that will not go down well.