Donna woke to the sound of the waves crashing and the wind rustling in the trees. She opened her eyes slowly, getting accustomed to the glaring sunlight. She could also feel the cold water as the waves lapped against the right side of her body. Still lying down, she moved her head so she could try and figure out where she was. She looked up and saw that the beach seemed to carry on, almost to the horizon. To her right, the sapphire-blue water glided slowly up and down the white-gold sand, while in the distance she could see the waves, terrifying with a white foamy head crashing down, before mellowing out as they got closer to land. She looked to her left and saw that there was a dense forest of impossibly tall palm trees. Donna squinted into the trees, but couldn't see beyond the first few trunks, such was the thickness of the foliage. She wiggled her fingers and toes, before slowly sitting up. She felt incredibly sore, the kind of sore you feel a day after completing your first workout in months. Her arms and legs ached and, as she looked down at her body, she saw that she was covered in small cuts and bruises.
"What the fuck happened?" She said, half to herself, and half to anyone that might have been around. When she received no answer (unsurprisingly) she gradually got to her feet, wincing as she did so. She looked down at herself again and saw that her outfit was in ruins. The strings of her bikini top were nearly all frayed, only one or two strands keeping everything in place. Further down, her sarong skirt had been turned into nothing more than a series of ribbons that hung around her waist, though thankfully the bikini bottoms she had on were still largely all there, meaning her modesty wasn't too ruined. She looked back up and across the sand. Now that she was standing up and more focussed on what was in front of her, she saw that what looked like a large amount of debris had washed up. She started walking towards it, unsteadily at first, but getting more confident with each step. She reached the first piece of debris and saw that it was just driftwood, clearly part of a bigger piece of wood that had been snapped completely. What had brought all this up? A storm? Donna looked out over the ocean. The waves on the horizon were still looking quite vicious, it was certainly possible that was the storm in question. She kept on walking, passing cupboards that had had their contents spilled out on the sand, furniture that could only now be used as firewood (and even then, with a thorough drying out) and more smashed pieces of wood until she saw one that looked vaguely intact. She walked over to it and knelt down next to it. The wood looked like it had been shaped properly and so she ran her hand over it, to clear off the sand and seaweed, so that she could read it. The sign simply said Amazon. All of a sudden, Donna's memories seem to come flooding back.
The Amazon had been the yacht that Donna had spent the past week sailing on. With the k**s at college, both her and her husband had decided to go to the Caribbean on a sailing vacation. Donna could remember her husband selling the idea to her all over again and she replayed the memories as she kept walking along the beach.
"Baby, two weeks in the sun, going wherever we want -- island hopping, cruising, or just sailing out to where no one else is around us and enjoying the sun. All you'd have to do is pack as many bikinis as you want, lie back on the deck and the crew can bring you as many cocktails as you want while you top up your tan and the sea breeze helps you drift off to sleep..." he'd said. Donna had never had an interest in sailing before, but he had made it sound quite nice. Of course, things were different when they had arrived in Barbados. Craig, her husband, hadn't booked a crew at the same time that he had chartered the yacht and the only crew available at such short notice was incredibly expensive. Of course, he didn't want to pay that much money and was confident that he could sail the yacht all by himself. Brushing Donna's protests aside ("yes, I'll do the sailing, the cooking, the cleaning, and I'll bring you the Mai Tais"), the two of them had boarded a yacht that was too big for two people to live on, never mind two people to crew it. Craig had done an okay job as the sole crewmember for the first week or so, mainly because the yacht never really got up to speed and rarely ventured far beyond the safety of the marina. And, of course, the one time that they decided to risk it and venture out to the next island, the storm came along, blew them off course, smashed up their yacht and left her stranded on an island in the middle of god-knows-where. 'Well', she thought, looking at the sign, 'looks like we won't be getting that deposit back any time soon'.
The moment she said that, she felt a pang of guilt. Her first thought had been about the money she had lost on the yacht, not about her husband. She had no idea where he was, and if he was still alive. A lump formed in her throat as she thought about it, but she blinked her eyes furiously and ****** the lump back down. She wasn't going to sit here and cry about it. She was going to find him. No doubt he was doing the same -- eventually they would have to bump into each other, right?
"And when I find him," Donna said, quickening her pace up the beach, "he's going to wish he was dead." Her feet kicked up the sand as she walked, almost ran, up and over sand dune after sand dune. Each time she got to the top of one, she stopped and looked out over the land, trying to find her husband, or more debris that might lead her to him. But nothing came up, beyond the usual mess of wood and metal. Finally she climbed up the highest sand dune out of all of them and looked down at the scene of carnage below her.
Both halves of Amazon lay on the beach. She had been snapped right down the middle and been washed up, with about thirty yards between her halves. Her two propellers were half-dug in the sand and the engines lay next to them, water still pouring out of the turbines. How recently had this washed up? Something this big and loud was surely going to get her attention, she had thought. Suddenly she could see movement at the base of Amazon. Could it be Craig? She ran down the dune, getting closer to the person who was now climbing around the wreck of the yacht. Twice she almost fell, but she kept going until she reached the bottom of the dune and was no more than sixty yards from the wreck. Then she stopped, frozen. The figure (from this distance Donna could see that it was a man) had climbed down from the wreck back onto the beach, and was joined by two more men who had also emerged from the yacht. None of these men were her husband. They were all quite tall and lithely built, with very little body fat but also not a lot of muscle -- they looked like the long-distance runners Donna had seen at the Olympics. She started to back away slowly, when one of them noticed her. He pointed at her and shouted. Donna stopped where she was and tried to reason with the men.
"Can you help me?" She shouted, "this was my yacht! I am looking for my husband!" The three men looked at each other and seemed to be speaking to each other in a language Donna couldn't understand. It didn't sound like a European language, so maybe it was something more native? Donna had no idea, but the optimism that these men might be able to help her had rapidly disappeared. Especially when the three men looked at her and broke into a run at her. Donna screamed and turned round, running back up the dune, but she had no chance of getting away from three men who were built for running, especially when she was still sore from the storm. They bridged the distance between them and her easily and one of them tackled her into the sand. Donna screamed again and tried to get away, but the men wouldn't let her go. They turned her round so she was on her back. Donna looked up at them, terrified of what was going to happen next. One of the men reached for what looked like a set of vines on a belt round his waist and he pulled her wrists together, tying them together. He then did the same to her ankles, before saying something to the other two men. Between them, they picked her up and carried her off into the jungle. All the while, Donna tried to reason with them -- "please don't do this", "I just need your help", "please let me go -- I need to find my husband." All the cries and protests fell on deaf ears, however. Eventually all four of them walked -- or were carried -- in a tense silence. Donna took this as a chance to study her captors further. They all looked to be very young, perhaps barely nineteen, and they all had long black hair that went down past their shoulders. It also hadn't escaped Donna's attention that they were all black -- their skin was incredibly dark, much darker than Donna had seen anyone else's before. Donna stared at the men as they jogged through the jungle, each taking it in turns to carry her, until Donna could suddenly start hearing different noises. Voices, laughter, the sounds of a****ls -- were they getting near a village? Someone there must speak English!
Suddenly they broke through the dense jungle and came out into a clearing. Donna looked round (as much as she could while being slung over the shoulder of one of the men) and saw maybe twenty or thirty small wooden huts dotted around the clearing, with small fires between them. c***dren ran between the huts, playing chase and other games and women knelt, tending the fires, washing clothes and otherwise managing the camp. Both the women and the c***dren stopped what they were doing when Donna walked past, eyeing her with suspicion. At one end was a clearer space, where a series of large wooden tables sat in front of a huge stone throne. In one corner of the clearing there were about half a dozen cages, each of them sitting on the ground, but connected by a chain to a series of beams at the same height as the tree canopy, so they could be lifted up. Donna swallowed nervously as the men carried her over to the cages, but breathed a sigh of relief when they diverted at the last minute, instead throwing her inside one of the small huts. It was wooden, but looked to be crudely reinforced with metal. Donna guessed this was some sort of prison. She landed on the ground and turned round in time to see them shut the door in her face, before they walked off.
"Assholes," Donna spat at their backs, not daring to do it to their faces. She jumped when she heard a voice in the corner of the room.
"Took them long enough to bring you up here," a woman said drily. "news of a shipwrecked yacht reached the camp a few hours ago." Donna spun round and saw the woman sitting in the corner of the hut. She was wearing cargo shorts and a white t shirt. Donna noticed that neither item of clothing were especially dirty, especially when compared with her own ripped and ruined outfit.
"Who are you? You speak their language? How long have you been here? Have you tried to escape? Have you seen my husband at all?" The woman laughed at the deluge of questions.
"First of all, my name's Lauren," the woman began, "yes, I speak their language -- it's an amalgamation of West African languages which I know a fair bit about. I've been here four years, maybe -- you tend to lose track after a while. No, I haven't tried to escape. And no, I haven't seen your husband and if I'm honest, that's for the better -- the Tamawe tribe don't treat white men with the same care that they treat white women."
Donna stared at her in disbelief. "Four years?! Why have you been here so long? Why haven't you tried to escape?! And what do you mean about treating white women with care?"
At that moment the door to the hut was barged open and two men stood in the doorway, blocking out all the light. They stepped inside the hut and Donna saw that they were two different men from the ones who had captured her earlier. These men were a lot more muscular and taller. They were both sporting beards and their hair was cut shorter than the young men. They were clearly older, stronger, more powerful. Donna gulped as she started to back away from them. The men kept walking towards her, eyeing her up hungrily, until Lauren broke the tense silence.
"You're okay -- they're not here for you. They wouldn't dare touch you." She said, standing up. She walked into the middle of the room, where she met the two men, who stood either side of her. She ran her hands over their hardened chests while they hungrily groped and squeezed Lauren's boobs under the shirt. Lauren's own hands ran down their chests, idly traced the lines of their abs with her fingers and dipped below the waistlines of the straw-looking skirts they wore. She tugged gently at the waistbands, using her fingers to slide them down to the ground. Suddenly their cocks sprang free, long, thick and throbbing hard. The men, together, lifted Lauren's shirt over her head and then undid her shorts, watching them slide down her long, pale legs.
Donna sat in the corner of the room, horrified at the scene in front of her. This woman -- clearly an intelligent woman of some class -- had boldly stepped between these two black men and was brazenly letting them play with her, as much as she was playing with them! And yet, as disgusted as Donna was by the whole thing, she couldn't tear her eyes away. Especially when the two cocks had been set free. They were, by any other word, gorgeous. As black as the rest of the men's bodies, apart from the heads which were almost purple in colour. They looked to be throbbing and this, combined with the massive pair of balls that swung under each cock, gave the impression that neither man had cum in a very long time. Something it seemed that Lauren was going to change very soon. She sank down to her knees between the two men, completely naked, with a cock in each hand. As she stroked them, Donna noticed that the cocks seemed to be getting bigger -- there's no way that was even possible! Both of these men were way bigger than her husband had even been -- again, another pang of guilt as she realised it had been a long time since she had thought of her husband, and she was only doing it now because she was faced with two men that were a lot more endowed than he was. Donna stared, open-mouthed, as Lauren glanced quickly over at her, before opening her own mouth and swallowing one of the cocks, taking as much of as she could in her throat. The man getting the treatment moaned and put his hands on the back of her head, pushing her down on his dick even more. Lauren rested her hands on his muscular thighs and relaxed her throat, taking more of his cock down. The man wrapped his hands in her hair and held her there, moaning gutturally as Lauren obviously struggled for air. Eventually she started to gag and slapped his thighs, silently telling him to let her go. He did and Lauren launched her head back, coughing and blinking back tears. The second man obviously wanted his turn and simply grabbed Lauren by the hair and turned her round. He shoved his cock in her mouth and assaulted her throat, shouting what sounded like obscenities at her. Lauren didn't pay attention to what he was saying, instead focussing on trying to get the entire length of the thick dark shaft in front of her down her throat. The other man was stroking his cock while his other hand groped Lauren's boobs, squeezing them with his big hand. He stopped every now and then and looked over at Donna, leering at her. Donna recoiled at the attention, but didn't stop staring, her gaze switching from his own thick cock that he was stroking, to the face-fucking that Lauren was getting. Eventually the man let his cock fall out of Lauren's mouth, strings of spit landing on her boobs and running down her body. One of the men stood behind her and pushed her down onto all fours with his foot. He then sank to his knees behind her and pushed his cock up against her pussy.
"Oh, fuck..." Lauren began to say, feeling the huge head slide inside her. She began to moan and scream as inch after inch of thick black cock stretched her pussy out, until her moaning was shut up by the second man now getting on his knees and forsing his cock back down her throat. Lauren willingly let him slide in and her screams were muffled as she swallowed the huge cock in front of her, while the huge cock behind her filled her up too. The two men started pistoning back and forth, but all Donna could see from her current angle was the back of the guy fucking Lauren's mouth. His ass was thrusting back and forth greedily and Donna couldn't help herself. She shuffled round the hut until she could see both men and Lauren between them. One of her hands was wrapped round the thigh of the man fucking her mouth and the other hand between her legs and she rubbed her clit furiously. The two men didn't care about her doing this, neither did they help her, instead just pounding away at both ends of her. Their thrusts seemed almost perfectly timed, one of them sliding out of Lauren as the other one slid in, meaning that Lauren was always full of big black cock. Between this and rubbing her clit, Lauren soon came, holding even tighter onto the man in front of her for support as her whole body shook. The man behind her kept on thrusting in and out of her, holding onto her body and fucking her through her orgasm. Eventually Lauren spat the cock out of her mouth to scream even louder.
"Oh fuck!" She cried out, looking back at the man behind her, "give me that big black dick, fuck this white pussy up. Take it, it's all yours, it's all yours, it's all fucking yours..." Donna could feel herself getting turned on listening to Lauren abandon any sense of decency as she got fucked. She'd never dreamed of saying anything like that to her husband -- but, then again, her husband had never given her any reason to say anything like that. Lauren turned back to the man in front of her who was eagerly stroking his cock. Lauren ducked underneath the long black shaft and began sucking on his big heavy balls, alternating between bouncing them off her tongue and taking them in her mouth one at a time and coating them in her spit. The man moaned at the stimulation, especially when Lauren took over stroking his cock with her free hand. Donna noticed that she was wearing a wedding ring on that hand and couldn't help but compare it with her own hand. What if that was her? Her own white hand, complete with the ring that showed how much she loved her husband, stroking up and down a big black cock like that? Even half an hour ago, Donna would have shuddered at the idea. Now, however, it turned her on. She could almost feel herself getting wet at the thought of taking Lauren's place. But, for some reason, the men would hardly look at her, never mind touch her or even fuck her. And Donna certainly wasn't going to go over there and take it.
The sound of more moaning brought Donna back to reality as she suddenly the saw the man whose balls Lauren was sucking on begin to cum. He pointed his cock right at Lauren's face and a huge rope of cum erupted out the end of his cock. Lauren closed her eyes and smiled while rubbing her clit again. Her whole body began to shake as she came again, perfectly timed with more and more cum flying out the end of the guy's cock. Donna sat there and watched, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. She had never seen so much cum in her life! Even in the porn videos she had started sneakily watching behind her husband's back, the guys never produced that much cum! It seemed like a constant firehouse was blasting onto Lauren's face, so much so that it was dripping onto the floor of the hut. Lauren stayed where she was, a look of satisfaction on her face as the man fucking her pussy started to cum as well. He pumped twice more, grunted and then rammed his cock all the way up inside her. Lauren gasped and moaned again as she felt him cum. Donna didn't doubt that there was the same amount of cum in her pussy as was on her face and she felt a pang of jealously at Lauren because she wasn't getting the same treatment. The man fucking her from behind stayed inside for a few more seconds, while his cock softened, before pulling out. Donna could see that, even though he was no longer fully hard, his cock was still longer, thicker and darker than her husband's. Both men were. They got off their knees and walked silently out the hut, leaving Lauren there. Donna could almost hear her purring to herself in satisfaction, as the cum started drying on her face. Donna could also see it start to drip out her pussy and pool on the floor of the hut as well. Finally, Lauren fell onto the floor and looked over at Donna.
"You wanna know why I've been here four years and not tried to escape?" Lauren said, "I think you got your answer..."
"What the fuck happened?" She said, half to herself, and half to anyone that might have been around. When she received no answer (unsurprisingly) she gradually got to her feet, wincing as she did so. She looked down at herself again and saw that her outfit was in ruins. The strings of her bikini top were nearly all frayed, only one or two strands keeping everything in place. Further down, her sarong skirt had been turned into nothing more than a series of ribbons that hung around her waist, though thankfully the bikini bottoms she had on were still largely all there, meaning her modesty wasn't too ruined. She looked back up and across the sand. Now that she was standing up and more focussed on what was in front of her, she saw that what looked like a large amount of debris had washed up. She started walking towards it, unsteadily at first, but getting more confident with each step. She reached the first piece of debris and saw that it was just driftwood, clearly part of a bigger piece of wood that had been snapped completely. What had brought all this up? A storm? Donna looked out over the ocean. The waves on the horizon were still looking quite vicious, it was certainly possible that was the storm in question. She kept on walking, passing cupboards that had had their contents spilled out on the sand, furniture that could only now be used as firewood (and even then, with a thorough drying out) and more smashed pieces of wood until she saw one that looked vaguely intact. She walked over to it and knelt down next to it. The wood looked like it had been shaped properly and so she ran her hand over it, to clear off the sand and seaweed, so that she could read it. The sign simply said Amazon. All of a sudden, Donna's memories seem to come flooding back.
The Amazon had been the yacht that Donna had spent the past week sailing on. With the k**s at college, both her and her husband had decided to go to the Caribbean on a sailing vacation. Donna could remember her husband selling the idea to her all over again and she replayed the memories as she kept walking along the beach.
"Baby, two weeks in the sun, going wherever we want -- island hopping, cruising, or just sailing out to where no one else is around us and enjoying the sun. All you'd have to do is pack as many bikinis as you want, lie back on the deck and the crew can bring you as many cocktails as you want while you top up your tan and the sea breeze helps you drift off to sleep..." he'd said. Donna had never had an interest in sailing before, but he had made it sound quite nice. Of course, things were different when they had arrived in Barbados. Craig, her husband, hadn't booked a crew at the same time that he had chartered the yacht and the only crew available at such short notice was incredibly expensive. Of course, he didn't want to pay that much money and was confident that he could sail the yacht all by himself. Brushing Donna's protests aside ("yes, I'll do the sailing, the cooking, the cleaning, and I'll bring you the Mai Tais"), the two of them had boarded a yacht that was too big for two people to live on, never mind two people to crew it. Craig had done an okay job as the sole crewmember for the first week or so, mainly because the yacht never really got up to speed and rarely ventured far beyond the safety of the marina. And, of course, the one time that they decided to risk it and venture out to the next island, the storm came along, blew them off course, smashed up their yacht and left her stranded on an island in the middle of god-knows-where. 'Well', she thought, looking at the sign, 'looks like we won't be getting that deposit back any time soon'.
The moment she said that, she felt a pang of guilt. Her first thought had been about the money she had lost on the yacht, not about her husband. She had no idea where he was, and if he was still alive. A lump formed in her throat as she thought about it, but she blinked her eyes furiously and ****** the lump back down. She wasn't going to sit here and cry about it. She was going to find him. No doubt he was doing the same -- eventually they would have to bump into each other, right?
"And when I find him," Donna said, quickening her pace up the beach, "he's going to wish he was dead." Her feet kicked up the sand as she walked, almost ran, up and over sand dune after sand dune. Each time she got to the top of one, she stopped and looked out over the land, trying to find her husband, or more debris that might lead her to him. But nothing came up, beyond the usual mess of wood and metal. Finally she climbed up the highest sand dune out of all of them and looked down at the scene of carnage below her.
Both halves of Amazon lay on the beach. She had been snapped right down the middle and been washed up, with about thirty yards between her halves. Her two propellers were half-dug in the sand and the engines lay next to them, water still pouring out of the turbines. How recently had this washed up? Something this big and loud was surely going to get her attention, she had thought. Suddenly she could see movement at the base of Amazon. Could it be Craig? She ran down the dune, getting closer to the person who was now climbing around the wreck of the yacht. Twice she almost fell, but she kept going until she reached the bottom of the dune and was no more than sixty yards from the wreck. Then she stopped, frozen. The figure (from this distance Donna could see that it was a man) had climbed down from the wreck back onto the beach, and was joined by two more men who had also emerged from the yacht. None of these men were her husband. They were all quite tall and lithely built, with very little body fat but also not a lot of muscle -- they looked like the long-distance runners Donna had seen at the Olympics. She started to back away slowly, when one of them noticed her. He pointed at her and shouted. Donna stopped where she was and tried to reason with the men.
"Can you help me?" She shouted, "this was my yacht! I am looking for my husband!" The three men looked at each other and seemed to be speaking to each other in a language Donna couldn't understand. It didn't sound like a European language, so maybe it was something more native? Donna had no idea, but the optimism that these men might be able to help her had rapidly disappeared. Especially when the three men looked at her and broke into a run at her. Donna screamed and turned round, running back up the dune, but she had no chance of getting away from three men who were built for running, especially when she was still sore from the storm. They bridged the distance between them and her easily and one of them tackled her into the sand. Donna screamed again and tried to get away, but the men wouldn't let her go. They turned her round so she was on her back. Donna looked up at them, terrified of what was going to happen next. One of the men reached for what looked like a set of vines on a belt round his waist and he pulled her wrists together, tying them together. He then did the same to her ankles, before saying something to the other two men. Between them, they picked her up and carried her off into the jungle. All the while, Donna tried to reason with them -- "please don't do this", "I just need your help", "please let me go -- I need to find my husband." All the cries and protests fell on deaf ears, however. Eventually all four of them walked -- or were carried -- in a tense silence. Donna took this as a chance to study her captors further. They all looked to be very young, perhaps barely nineteen, and they all had long black hair that went down past their shoulders. It also hadn't escaped Donna's attention that they were all black -- their skin was incredibly dark, much darker than Donna had seen anyone else's before. Donna stared at the men as they jogged through the jungle, each taking it in turns to carry her, until Donna could suddenly start hearing different noises. Voices, laughter, the sounds of a****ls -- were they getting near a village? Someone there must speak English!
Suddenly they broke through the dense jungle and came out into a clearing. Donna looked round (as much as she could while being slung over the shoulder of one of the men) and saw maybe twenty or thirty small wooden huts dotted around the clearing, with small fires between them. c***dren ran between the huts, playing chase and other games and women knelt, tending the fires, washing clothes and otherwise managing the camp. Both the women and the c***dren stopped what they were doing when Donna walked past, eyeing her with suspicion. At one end was a clearer space, where a series of large wooden tables sat in front of a huge stone throne. In one corner of the clearing there were about half a dozen cages, each of them sitting on the ground, but connected by a chain to a series of beams at the same height as the tree canopy, so they could be lifted up. Donna swallowed nervously as the men carried her over to the cages, but breathed a sigh of relief when they diverted at the last minute, instead throwing her inside one of the small huts. It was wooden, but looked to be crudely reinforced with metal. Donna guessed this was some sort of prison. She landed on the ground and turned round in time to see them shut the door in her face, before they walked off.
"Assholes," Donna spat at their backs, not daring to do it to their faces. She jumped when she heard a voice in the corner of the room.
"Took them long enough to bring you up here," a woman said drily. "news of a shipwrecked yacht reached the camp a few hours ago." Donna spun round and saw the woman sitting in the corner of the hut. She was wearing cargo shorts and a white t shirt. Donna noticed that neither item of clothing were especially dirty, especially when compared with her own ripped and ruined outfit.
"Who are you? You speak their language? How long have you been here? Have you tried to escape? Have you seen my husband at all?" The woman laughed at the deluge of questions.
"First of all, my name's Lauren," the woman began, "yes, I speak their language -- it's an amalgamation of West African languages which I know a fair bit about. I've been here four years, maybe -- you tend to lose track after a while. No, I haven't tried to escape. And no, I haven't seen your husband and if I'm honest, that's for the better -- the Tamawe tribe don't treat white men with the same care that they treat white women."
Donna stared at her in disbelief. "Four years?! Why have you been here so long? Why haven't you tried to escape?! And what do you mean about treating white women with care?"
At that moment the door to the hut was barged open and two men stood in the doorway, blocking out all the light. They stepped inside the hut and Donna saw that they were two different men from the ones who had captured her earlier. These men were a lot more muscular and taller. They were both sporting beards and their hair was cut shorter than the young men. They were clearly older, stronger, more powerful. Donna gulped as she started to back away from them. The men kept walking towards her, eyeing her up hungrily, until Lauren broke the tense silence.
"You're okay -- they're not here for you. They wouldn't dare touch you." She said, standing up. She walked into the middle of the room, where she met the two men, who stood either side of her. She ran her hands over their hardened chests while they hungrily groped and squeezed Lauren's boobs under the shirt. Lauren's own hands ran down their chests, idly traced the lines of their abs with her fingers and dipped below the waistlines of the straw-looking skirts they wore. She tugged gently at the waistbands, using her fingers to slide them down to the ground. Suddenly their cocks sprang free, long, thick and throbbing hard. The men, together, lifted Lauren's shirt over her head and then undid her shorts, watching them slide down her long, pale legs.
Donna sat in the corner of the room, horrified at the scene in front of her. This woman -- clearly an intelligent woman of some class -- had boldly stepped between these two black men and was brazenly letting them play with her, as much as she was playing with them! And yet, as disgusted as Donna was by the whole thing, she couldn't tear her eyes away. Especially when the two cocks had been set free. They were, by any other word, gorgeous. As black as the rest of the men's bodies, apart from the heads which were almost purple in colour. They looked to be throbbing and this, combined with the massive pair of balls that swung under each cock, gave the impression that neither man had cum in a very long time. Something it seemed that Lauren was going to change very soon. She sank down to her knees between the two men, completely naked, with a cock in each hand. As she stroked them, Donna noticed that the cocks seemed to be getting bigger -- there's no way that was even possible! Both of these men were way bigger than her husband had even been -- again, another pang of guilt as she realised it had been a long time since she had thought of her husband, and she was only doing it now because she was faced with two men that were a lot more endowed than he was. Donna stared, open-mouthed, as Lauren glanced quickly over at her, before opening her own mouth and swallowing one of the cocks, taking as much of as she could in her throat. The man getting the treatment moaned and put his hands on the back of her head, pushing her down on his dick even more. Lauren rested her hands on his muscular thighs and relaxed her throat, taking more of his cock down. The man wrapped his hands in her hair and held her there, moaning gutturally as Lauren obviously struggled for air. Eventually she started to gag and slapped his thighs, silently telling him to let her go. He did and Lauren launched her head back, coughing and blinking back tears. The second man obviously wanted his turn and simply grabbed Lauren by the hair and turned her round. He shoved his cock in her mouth and assaulted her throat, shouting what sounded like obscenities at her. Lauren didn't pay attention to what he was saying, instead focussing on trying to get the entire length of the thick dark shaft in front of her down her throat. The other man was stroking his cock while his other hand groped Lauren's boobs, squeezing them with his big hand. He stopped every now and then and looked over at Donna, leering at her. Donna recoiled at the attention, but didn't stop staring, her gaze switching from his own thick cock that he was stroking, to the face-fucking that Lauren was getting. Eventually the man let his cock fall out of Lauren's mouth, strings of spit landing on her boobs and running down her body. One of the men stood behind her and pushed her down onto all fours with his foot. He then sank to his knees behind her and pushed his cock up against her pussy.
"Oh, fuck..." Lauren began to say, feeling the huge head slide inside her. She began to moan and scream as inch after inch of thick black cock stretched her pussy out, until her moaning was shut up by the second man now getting on his knees and forsing his cock back down her throat. Lauren willingly let him slide in and her screams were muffled as she swallowed the huge cock in front of her, while the huge cock behind her filled her up too. The two men started pistoning back and forth, but all Donna could see from her current angle was the back of the guy fucking Lauren's mouth. His ass was thrusting back and forth greedily and Donna couldn't help herself. She shuffled round the hut until she could see both men and Lauren between them. One of her hands was wrapped round the thigh of the man fucking her mouth and the other hand between her legs and she rubbed her clit furiously. The two men didn't care about her doing this, neither did they help her, instead just pounding away at both ends of her. Their thrusts seemed almost perfectly timed, one of them sliding out of Lauren as the other one slid in, meaning that Lauren was always full of big black cock. Between this and rubbing her clit, Lauren soon came, holding even tighter onto the man in front of her for support as her whole body shook. The man behind her kept on thrusting in and out of her, holding onto her body and fucking her through her orgasm. Eventually Lauren spat the cock out of her mouth to scream even louder.
"Oh fuck!" She cried out, looking back at the man behind her, "give me that big black dick, fuck this white pussy up. Take it, it's all yours, it's all yours, it's all fucking yours..." Donna could feel herself getting turned on listening to Lauren abandon any sense of decency as she got fucked. She'd never dreamed of saying anything like that to her husband -- but, then again, her husband had never given her any reason to say anything like that. Lauren turned back to the man in front of her who was eagerly stroking his cock. Lauren ducked underneath the long black shaft and began sucking on his big heavy balls, alternating between bouncing them off her tongue and taking them in her mouth one at a time and coating them in her spit. The man moaned at the stimulation, especially when Lauren took over stroking his cock with her free hand. Donna noticed that she was wearing a wedding ring on that hand and couldn't help but compare it with her own hand. What if that was her? Her own white hand, complete with the ring that showed how much she loved her husband, stroking up and down a big black cock like that? Even half an hour ago, Donna would have shuddered at the idea. Now, however, it turned her on. She could almost feel herself getting wet at the thought of taking Lauren's place. But, for some reason, the men would hardly look at her, never mind touch her or even fuck her. And Donna certainly wasn't going to go over there and take it.
The sound of more moaning brought Donna back to reality as she suddenly the saw the man whose balls Lauren was sucking on begin to cum. He pointed his cock right at Lauren's face and a huge rope of cum erupted out the end of his cock. Lauren closed her eyes and smiled while rubbing her clit again. Her whole body began to shake as she came again, perfectly timed with more and more cum flying out the end of the guy's cock. Donna sat there and watched, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. She had never seen so much cum in her life! Even in the porn videos she had started sneakily watching behind her husband's back, the guys never produced that much cum! It seemed like a constant firehouse was blasting onto Lauren's face, so much so that it was dripping onto the floor of the hut. Lauren stayed where she was, a look of satisfaction on her face as the man fucking her pussy started to cum as well. He pumped twice more, grunted and then rammed his cock all the way up inside her. Lauren gasped and moaned again as she felt him cum. Donna didn't doubt that there was the same amount of cum in her pussy as was on her face and she felt a pang of jealously at Lauren because she wasn't getting the same treatment. The man fucking her from behind stayed inside for a few more seconds, while his cock softened, before pulling out. Donna could see that, even though he was no longer fully hard, his cock was still longer, thicker and darker than her husband's. Both men were. They got off their knees and walked silently out the hut, leaving Lauren there. Donna could almost hear her purring to herself in satisfaction, as the cum started drying on her face. Donna could also see it start to drip out her pussy and pool on the floor of the hut as well. Finally, Lauren fell onto the floor and looked over at Donna.
"You wanna know why I've been here four years and not tried to escape?" Lauren said, "I think you got your answer..."
