Shyamala had sex with her African boyfriend's best friend. After sex, she accompanied Dieudonne to catch a rickshaw to college. She forgot to comb her hair. As she passionately kissed Dieudonne, herboyfriend Placide appeared and got suspicious. He took Shyamala upstairs, blindfolded her and anally assaulted her.
BEATEN UP BADLY IN JUNE 2012
In 2012, my boyfriend here in Mumbai was Dieudonne Kamara, a Gabonese student studying for a BEng degree in Mechanical engineering at Vivek College. We had a good relationship, despite the age difference; I was 20 years older than Dieudonne. Dieudonne had a friend, also from Gabon who was at the same college. His friend was Placide who was reading for a degree in Dentistry. Placide had a harder life in Africa, and looked 10 years older than Dieudonne. In fact, he admitted that he did not wear his first pair of shoes until the age of 14. His tough leathery feet reflected this. He was from a poor family; his father was “une garcon de maison (houseboy)” for a white man.
Dieudonne was sponsored by the Power Corporation of Libreville and Placide from the Gabonese government. Because of this, they had a comfortable life, unlike so many impoverished African students I had met in the two decades prior to this.
On a regular basis, we rendezvous at Gorai beach and had a wild party. Often, both Dieudonne and Placide will have penetrative sex with me under a coconut tree after the fall of darkness.
Placide was significantly well-endowed than Dieudonne, my estimate revealed that his cock was 2 inches longer and the girth thicker. The sex with Placide was far more enjoyable, but I could not tell Dieudonne such pertinent fact as it could have made him jealous, and spoil a childhood friendship.
Contemporaneous with that, Placide had an Indian girlfriend, Ishita, who was in the same class, also studying dentistry. I mentored her and taught her how to provide sex for a black man. She was an eager student and learned fast. My house was a classroom for Ishita.
One day I was on heat and I had an itch deep in my vaginal tract. I knew that it was only Placide who could do justice to my urgings and satiate me. I picked up the cell phone and called him. In 38 minutes flat, Placide reached my Punarvasu flat. “Ding dong”, the bell rang. I peeped out through the letterbox and saw it was Placide.
Trying to compose myself to look respectable for my lover. I took longer than he expected. He was impatient and knocked on the door saying, “Open you bitch, because your sweet Nigger is here!” I prayed to God that the neighbours did not hear that comment. Trying to fix my disheveled hair, he knocked again and ordered, “OPEN WHORE!!!”
Not wanting more commotion in this conservative and racist society, I quickly unlatched the door open.
As I partially opened the door and greeted him with a welcoming smile, he could decipher my intentions. Placide remarked, “Old bitch needs a young cock I guess?” Blushing, I replied, “Honey, you can read me like a book, time is precious, les us get started.”
Placide forced the door wide open, rushed in, and kicked it shut with his foot then planted a wet and passionate kiss on me. We must have embraced for five minutes, but time flew by so fast. As we kissed, he fondled my corpulent ass with his right hand and fingered my wet pussy with the middle finger of his left hand.
I was melting. I started sinking slowly, as the excitement made my legs turn to jelly; they were failing to support my 55 kgs weight.
Placide sensed this and picked me up in a real masculine manner and took me to the bed.
He glanced at the paintings on the wall to the right and left of the bed and commented, “Kinky Indian bitch, your entire life is governed by sex, what are those paintings about?” I explained that they were copies of paintings from the wall of a Hindu temple in Orissa. He said, “Shit, even in church they teach you Indian bitches to fuck?”
Throwing me flat on my back, he ordered, “Open wide you Indian bitch, I can sense that you are longing for a stiff Nigger’s cock!” Like an obedient and compliant child, I hurriedly pulled down my jeans and panty and opened my legs wide, pulling them back with my hands towards my shoulder. That was the signal Placide needed, he plunged his 12 inch manhood into my dripping pussy and rested my legs on his shoulders. My god, the feeling was heavenly. I wanted nothing more. The athletic and virile youth was gyrating and pushing that massive manhood into me at a rate one only reads about in sex novels. My juice was oozing out and wetting the bed sheet.
In 14 minutes flat, my entire body convulsed and I had an explosive orgasm, the best I had ever encountered in my life.
Placide’s cock was as hard as a piece of well-tempered steel. He showed no sign of tiring, nor did the massive shaft show evidence of softening.
He ordered me to get down on my knees to accommodate him as he said, “On your knees you sodomite whore, you need to feel the Nigger’s cock all the way to your stomach, do it bitch!” I complied and went on all fours.
That stiff manhood entered my well-lubricated pussy. It hurt, but within minutes, the stimulation on my clitoris made me writhe in unison with Placide’s gyration. In his heightened state of excitement, he gave commentary in French, his mother tongue. To ensure that I understood his profound gratitude and feelings, he occasionally spoke in English. Some of his random comments were, “Yes, tight Indian pussy”. Deep breathing and panting will end with, “you bitch, how many Niggers have you fucked?” Or he will pause then ask, “Am I the sweetest cock you have ever accommodated?” To which I’ll reply, “Yes, yes Placide Babe, you have been my sweetest Nigger, in 25 years of fucking blacks, you have been the best!” Such honest praise aroused him to the point of ejaculation, he panted then said, “Take me you whore, I’m cumin, let me explooooode!” With that, he shot about half a litre of hot sperm in my waiting pussy. As he pulled the cock which was slowly shrinking, sperm oozed out of my pussy and dripped onto the bed. I looked at it; it was thick and creamy with streaks of blood. Placide sat on the bed for about five minutes to recuperate, the cock still looked delicious and appetising, and I could not help snapping a picture of it using my iPhone. Wet vaginal juice was evident on his right leg. He then quickly dressed and asked me to escort him to the rickshaw stand as he had to rush to college. He had an important practical on “root canal treatment”.
I was in no rush to get out of the house. My cavernous pussy felt cool as cold air entered it. It had not fully closed up from the onslaught of the massive 12 inch black cock. I laid horizontally for some modicum of reprieve. I did not get time to comb my disheveled hair so we went down.
We descended the five floors in the slow lift. As we exited the lift, he gave me a passionate kiss on my lips, and we said goodbye. I held his hand and thanked him for satiating my deep desire.
As he walked away from me, Dieudonne appeared out of nowhere. He had seen the way Placide and I had kissed, and asked, “What was that kissing about?”
I lied, I said, “In the Hindu calendar today is Paratoor Ekadashi, the day in which a sister shows love and affection to a brother.”
Dieudonne did not believe me. He said, “You lying whore, I’m an intelligent man, for heaven sake, respect my intelligence, will you perfidious bitch. And look at the way you appear bedraggled, as if you have just been fucked?” The anger in his eyes was frightening. He dragged me into the lift and continued, “Les us go into the flat, you need to be taught a lesson. Lessons that will make you respect me from now on whore!!!”
As we entered the flat, he dragged me straight to the bedroom. In front of his eyes, was the still wet blob of Placide’s sperm? He pointed it out and said, “You were fucking Placide, were you not, where did this sperm come from?” I could not speak. He undressed and spoke in French. His tone spoke volumes.
I detected that he felt cheated and hurt. I wanted to apologise but my pride and arrogance made me hold out. Such arrogance resulting in my paying bitterly for my infidelity and penchant for well-endowed black cock. I could have been killed and my body left to rot in my fifth floor apartment!
Then sat on the chair. His cock was erect and growing bigger. He continued, “You bitch, you have been a naughty girl, you need to say sorry!”
I was nervous as to what form of punishment he had in mind. He ordered, “Undress you Indian whore, be quick!” With that, he blindfolded me. The anger and shouting were frightening.
I complied faithfully. By then his cock was upright. He continued, “Come and sit on this cock let me bugger you!”
He pushed that cock up my ass. It was not the first time, but this time, the anger made it feel much bigger. It hurt. I felt as if I was going to pass out. The pain was unbearable. I gasped for air as I tried to contain the pain. I did not want him to feel that he was winning. I told my brain to savour the experience as I had done dozens of time before, but the brutality was palpable and hurting! I tried to bear the excruciating pain, but I was on the verge of losing consciousness. My favourite form of sex which had brought several hours of enjoyment and numerous orgasms…was now torture!
Half an hour of rough anal sex felt like an eternity. As Dieudonne ejaculated, he quickly dressed and took a rolling pin from the kitchen. He said, “From today whore, we are finished.
To satisfy myself that I was a good man, I’ll teach you a lesson!” He went on, “Indian bitch, you must not have another man, tu n’est pas l’autre home, mother fucking whore!” With that, he repeated hit me on my right and left cheeks in quick succession, about 20 times each side with the rolling pin.
Being blindfolded, I was unable to take evasive action and had to endure the brutal assault. After receiving the blows, I blacked out on the bed, still naked.
I regained consciousness but still dazed, I had to wait for ten minutes before getting up.
When I fully recovered consciousness, and was able to walk, I showered then dressed then went to the police and lodged a complaint.
Thane police dispatcher four crews in search of Dieudonne. At 2317 hrs. my cell phone rang, Inspector Malhotra spoke, “Shyamala Ji Namaste, we have the criminal.
Could you please come down to the police sataysaaan (sic) so we can interview him for deportaysaan (sic)?” I immediately booked a rickshaw and went to Thane police station. There in a locked room was Dieudonne. He was removed from the cell, in handcuffs, and the interrogation started. He confessed to beating me up. Claiming that he had evidence that I had sex with another Nigger. Inspector Malhotra asked him to furnish the evidence, he could not. He started crying. I told the police officers that he was just pretending. They immediately summoned the immigration officer on duty to come and commence deportation proceedings. Hearing that, Dieudonne knelt down and begged, “Please, please Shyamala, I was wrong. Please forgive me. How can I go back home to Gabon without a degree.
Please consider the shame it will bring on my family and my tribe. Please forgive me. I was a fool. My BEng final exams start in three days’ time, please let me finish my exams? I cannot go home without a degree!” I nodded and told Inspector Malhotra to allow him to finish his exams. On 18th June 2012, Dieudonne wrote his final paper, Thermodynamics Paper III. At 2345 that night, police picked him at home and escorted him to Mumbai Airport to board the Kenya Airways flight to Libreville. Dieudonne was deported. My swollen face lasted for a week.
Placide and Ishita finished their final examination on 28 June. Placide was eager to return to Gabon, having been away for 7 years. He married Ishita on 30 June. On that momentous day, Ishita dressed for the civic ceremony in my Punarvasu flat and we went by taxi to Kandivalli’s registry office.
My maid Indrani and I were the only people present at the wedding ceremony and we signed the marriage register as witnesses. I wore my most expensive silk saree for the occasion, and Indrani wore western attire brought by her sister Ikshana who was working as a nurse in Montreal in Canada. I chose a colour that matched Ishita’s salwar and Placide’s long West African traditional gown. It was a rusty brown colour that matched the lateritic soil of Gabon. Indira’s dress was of the same colour also. This was a special day for Indrani.
Ishita’s entire family has shunned and disowned her for marrying the Niggar (sic). I consoled her and gave moral support, in the best way I could.
After signing the register and officially becoming Mrs. Ishita Konote, Ishita held my two hands and with tears in her eyes, she spoke, “Shyamala Ji, in the past year you have been a friend, teacher, mentor, sister, and mother. For all of this, I’ll always remember you. Thanks a million.” I began to cry and we embraced for about five minutes. I looked at her in the eyes, smiled and replied, “I’m proud of you babe, I know that you will make Placide extremely happy.”
His plane ticket for he and his new bride came on 10 July and they left for Libreville on 12 July. In the two weeks after the final exams, my coaching of Ishita on ways of fucking a Black Guy continued apace. Being free from studies, she was now learning at an exponential rate.
I felt like a proud teacher. This was evident by the way in which she was accommodating the massive 12 inch cock aplomb and with consummate ease.
When she once screamed in excruciating pain during her early encounters, she was now begging for more…A SUCCESS STORY, I HOPE I CAN REPLICATE HERE IN MUMBAI AND HAVE MORE STUDENTS, TO MENTOR AND TUTOR IN THE SAME VEIN.