The Merry Wives of Black Master Shango pt. 2


Real Person
Gold Member

Tim stepped out into the evening moonlight and walked in the direction of where he’d parked his vehicle. There was light coming from inside the vehicle and as he approached, he could make out shadows through the backseat window. It wasn’t until he got closer and peeked his head through the front window that he could breathe again.
Olu Shango lounged in the backseat, flanked by Monica on his left and his Italian friend, Tony’s wife, Franca, by his right. His shirt and jacket was open and his pant was pulled down his legs and both wives were fighting over his cock that protruded like a giant tent-pole from his crotch. Monica was pulling on his balls while Franca sucked on the tip of his cock, her other hand stroked his shaft. Olu indicated for Tim to hurry and get inside; both women didn’t bother taking their eyes off from their prize as he opened the car door and got into the driver’s seat. Olu took the car key from Monica—she too had earlier gotten it from Tim when they arrived—and threw it at Tim.
“There’s the key,” he said between groans. “Drive, white boy.”
Franca raised her head from Olu’s cock and sblackmaned. “White boy,” she turned to look at Tim’s direction. “I like the sound of that. I’ll have to start calling Tony that too.”
“You should,” Monica chuckled. “He’ll go crazy about it.”
“Franca, Tony is back in there looking everywhere for you,” Tim mentioned.
“Will you stop talking and get to driving, white boy?” Olu snapped at him. “Tony isn’t going to worry much once I give his ass a call. Now drive!”
Tim started the car and reversed out of the parking space. After they’d driven out of the gates, he glanced at the rear-view mirror and asked: “Where to, Master?”
“Where else do you think, white boy?”
Monica took her mouth off her lover’s cock. “Take us home, white boy,” she chuckled.
Tim drove in the direction that was home. It was a quarter to eleven and the streets were devoid of traffic. He arrived at his place in less time than it had taken them to arrive at the Consul; during the drive, Olu had called Tony to let him know whom his wife was with, and for him to come to Tim’s home if he wanted to. The guard recognised the sound of Tim’s car horn and let them into the compound. Olu held up his pants as he and both women came down and went inside while Tim went and parked the car inside the garage before coming into the house. Olu and both women were already at the top of the stairs when he came in.
“We’re going to need the bedroom for a while, white boy,” Olu said to him while both women struggled and fought over him. “Make yourself useful around the house till I call you up.”
All three of them crackled with laughter as they went into the bedroom and slammed the door close. Tim came halfway up the stairs, listened to the sound of their frolicking but didn’t venture any further step. Instead he went into the kitchen, loosened his bow tie and the top buttons of his shirt collar. He made himself some coffee then went and sat in the living room and turned on the TV. Even from there, he could hear bumping noises amidst what sounded like laughter coming from upstairs. A lot of fun was going on in there while he was stuck down here with himself.

More than a half hour later his cell phone rang. It was his friend, Tony calling to let him know that he was close to his house and would be there in the next five minutes or less.

The gate came open and Tony drove into his compound. Tony too was still in his tuxedo, except for his missing bow tie. They shook hands as Tim led him into his home; it wasn’t his first time of being here.
“Where’s she?” Tony asked him as they entered the living room, and right away, as if in answer to his question, there came further bumping noise and the unmistakable sound of someone—a female—moaning aloud and hollering out someone’s name. Tim pointed a finger at the roof for his friend to know where it was coming from.
“That’s where they are,” he said.
Tony couldn’t think of anything further to say. He swallowed his pride just like Tim and took a chair and listened to the crazed sound of fucking, along with that of the bed slamming against the wall, coupled with moaning voices raining down into their ears.

Finally Tony couldn’t take it anymore and got up and told Tim he was heading upstairs to see how well things were going; he couldn’t take the torture anymore of not seeing how well his wife was getting the black dick. Tim, unable to stop him, felt embolden too and went a few steps behind him, both of them going up the stairs till finally stopping in front of the bedroom door from where the sound of fucking prevalently coming from. Both of them stood there staring back at each other like two boys about to go pay the head principal a visit, contemplating who should go in first.
“You knock,” Tony urged his friend.
“Hell, no. You were the one that wanted to come up here, so you knock.”
“I would, except this is your home, remember? If and when such happens at my place, then I’ll be the one who gets to knock. Come on, go ahead.”
Tim grumbled, but eventually knowing he too would love nothing more than to see the action taking place in his bedroom, raised his hand and tapped on the door. The bout of moaning suddenly dropped to a low tremor. Both men stood there, tensed and afraid as they heard the lock turning and then the door was flung open to reveal Monica standing there naked. Tony brought his hand to his face to shield his eyes but it was too late. Tim stared at her with his mouth hanging open, shocked at her brazen look. His cock was pressing hard inside his pants.
“The fuck are you two standing here for?” she spoke with a harsh voice at both men. From behind her inside the bedroom, the sound of Olu fucking was coming loud and clear.

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