A Memorable Night in Africa
reverendhornibastard
Depraved Deacon of Degeneracy
While we lived in Africa Anisa became good friends with a woman she met there. Her new friend, “Lamai” was not an African woman. Like Anisa, Lamai was from Thailand.
Like Anisa, Lamai was cute … not as cute as Anisa, but cute enough.
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Anisa and Lamai had a lot in common. Each had become involved with a substantially older western man they met while he was working in their home country. Both of them ended up living overseas when their foreign boyfriend got a new assignment. The main difference between Anisa and Lamai was that Lamai’s husband, Jorge, was a Portuguese man who was much, much older than Lamai. The age gap between Jorge and Lamai made the age gap between Anisa and me seem trivial in comparison.
Given their similar backgrounds and personal histories, Anisa and Lamai quicky became good friends and frequently hung out together. Lamai was often at our home when I returned from the office. It was amusing to listen to them speak to each other. Lamai spoke no Indonesian and Anisa could not speak a word of Thai. So they communicated with one another with their broken English.
Somehow, they managed.
One afternoon Anisa called me at the office to ask if it would be OK with me if Lamai joined us for dinner. I didn’t mind and asked if Jorge would be joining us as well. But Anisa said that Jorge had left town on a business trip. Only be Lamai would be joining us.
A few minutes later, Anisa rang again to ask whether it would be OK if Lamai spent the night at our house. Lamai’s neighbors were evidently setting up to have one of those extraordinarily loud, all-night backyard parties and Lamai knew she’d never get any sleep. Anisa and I could certainly relate. Our neighbors also occasionally hosted the same sort of raucous all night parties. So naturally, I agreed to have Lamai spend the night at our place.
I had no reason whatsoever to expect anything more to come of this arrangement.
When I got home, Lamai was already there, helping Anisa prepare dinner. They were making Tex-Mex styled enchiladas. Anisa suggested that I prepare some of my hard to resist margaritas.
She thought margaritas would go well with the enchiladas.
I still had no inkling that anything out of the ordinary was in store for us and I certainly did not make the margaritas more potent in the hope that they would loosen inhibitions and spice up the evening.
At that point, I am confident that neither Anisa nor Lamai had any expectations other than dinner and some small talk.
The enchiladas were terrific. Anisa and Lamai both liked the margaritas. Anisa was already well acquainted with my margaritas but Lamai had never even heard of that mixed drink before. She seemed to like them because she was gulping them down like they were Kook Aid.
After dinner I retired to the couch to watch the news on CNN. Anisa and Lamai stayed in the dining room and kitchen to clean up. Eventually, they joined me in the living room. Anisa sat on the couch beside me and Lamai sat on the love-seat nearby.
Anisa and Lamai were busy with their broken-English two-girl, hen-party. It was all girl-talk which I was mostly able to tune out while I listened to the news on CNN. I was definitely not part of the conversation. But eventually their conversation got my attention. Lamai had started voicing concerns about Jorge and his health. She seemed worried.
I regarded Jorge as a friend and listened in to hear what his health problems were. But Lamai provided very little details other than to say that Jorge was getting old. Despite the limitations of Lamai’s English vocabulary, Anisa and I eventually understood that what Lamai was trying to convey was that Jorge had erectile dysfunction.
Lamai was clearly getting drunk. I’m sure these were not the personal health details Jorge would want her sharing with others.
Anisa didn’t seem to get the full picture. She insisted that Lamai just had to work a little harder to get Jorge in the mood for some love-making. Surely a hand job and/or a blow job would get him ready for some good, old-fashioned canoodling. But Lamai looked defeated. She insisted that she had tried all of these things and nothing worked anymore.
“Buy Jorge some Viagra,” Anisa insisted, forgetting for a moment that she has no medical training.
Lamai said that was out of the question. She had read about the adverse side effects that Viagra and similar products could induce and didn’t want Jorge taking any medications like that.
It was clear that Lamai loved Jorge and was very concerned about his health. But Lamai was only about 32 or 33 at the time and it was also clear that she missed the intimacies she had previously been able to enjoy with Jorge.
Lamai and Anisa had been refilling their margaritas all through this conversation. They are both small women and I wondered if they would be even able to stand up when they eventually had to go for a pee.
Finally, Anisa announced what she deemed to be the solution.
“Just have Jorge go down on you. Have him eat your pussy until you have an orgasm.”
Lamai laughed at the idea. “You don’t know Jorge,” she said. “He would never do something like that. He has never done that for me. I think he might find it disgusting.”
Anisa thought Lamai must be kidding about this. But, sadly, Lamai was not kidding. She then added, “No one has ever done that to me. I’ve been with Jorge since I was 17 years old.”
Anisa was dumbstruck.
“No one has ever gone down on you? Ever?” she stammered.
“Never!” Lamai confirmed. “I’ve seen it in porn films and it looks like it could be wonderful, but I have never had that experience.”
“Would you like to?” Anisa asked.
“Sure, but it’s not going to happen,” Lamai sniffed.
“Someday, if you’re in the mood, I will let you borrow my husband’s tongue,” Anisa generously offered. “He is crazy about eating pussy. He can’t turn it down.”
Drunk though she was, Lamai was clearly embarrassed by the outrageous suggestion. She glanced at me before quickly turning her gaze away.
I just laughed off the idea and the girls then embarked on another topic of conversation. It was more girl-talk that I immediately tuned out.
Eventually, Lamai decided she had to go drain some of the margaritas out of her bladder. She was unsteady on her feet but Anisa, who was also unsteady on her feet, helped Lamai to the bathroom.
Not long after they returned to the couch, their conversation returned to Lamai’s worries about Jorge’s declining health and to her disappointing sex life. Again, Mrs. Hornibastard ended up offering the loan of my tongue to at least satisfy Lamai’s curiosity about receiving oral sex.
Lamai was still embarrassed by the suggestion, but this time responded, “It sounds marvelous but you’re not serious!”
Anisa only responded, “All you have to do is show yourself to him. He won’t be able to resist.”
Lamai just laughed and had another big gulp of her margarita.
Anisa began hounding Lamai about this, insisting that she expose her pubes to me and then watch how quickly I would dive in face first. But Lamai was not ready to do anything like that.
Finally, to prove her point, Anisa stood up and dropped her shorts and panties. She was now wearing only a T-shirt that was slightly too big for her. Then sitting back on the couch, Anisa spread her legs offering me a good view of her lovely pink pudenda.
“Go ahead!” Anisa insisted. “I know you want to.”
Lamai laughed. It was hard to tell whether she was laughing nervously or whether her laughter was genuine.
I was not nearly as drunk as Lamai and Anisa, but I was definitely feeling a buzz. And Anisa’s pussy was calling out to me. So I got off the couch and got down on my knees in front of Anisa. Sliding my hands under her ass to lift her up so I could get a better angle of attack I began licking Anisa’s love cleft as Lamai sat no more than four feet away watching the proceedings.
But Anisa only let me eat her for at most 10-15 seconds before abruptly pushing me away and crossing her legs to deny me further access.
“See?” Anisa proclaimed. “All you have to do is show yourself to him and he will jump at the opportunity. Go ahead, try it!”
Lamai seemed to be ready to give this loony idea a try. She timidly hiked her skirt up a bit higher and spread her legs revealing some white cotton panties.
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“No!” Anisa squealed. “You have to actually show him your pussy!”
At this point, Anisa leapt into action, getting off the couch and assisting in relieving Lamai of her panties. To make sure I had a good view, she also unbuttoned Lamai’s wrap around skirt and removed it. Lamai was now nude from the waist down.
Anisa returned to my side on the couch. Lamai looked confused. Shyness, confusion, fear and eager anticipation mixed on her face. She reached for her margarita and took another big swig. Then, making uncharacteristically prolonged eye contact with me, she slowly spread herself revealing her cute but pathetically neglected pink parts.
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I looked over at Anisa, wondering whether she was really serious about this. Anisa raised her margarita and said, “Bon appétit!”
That was enough for me. I dove into Lamai tongue first.
Lamai was not terribly responsive to my attentions at first. But after just a few minutes, she relaxed, put her hands behind my head like virtually every woman does when you’re busy probing her pink parts with your tongue and lips. Then she splayed her legs as wide as they could possibly go and began grunting softly.
I kept her pinned to the couch with my face for about half an hour before seemed to reach her destination and no longer needed more of my attentions.
“Your husband did a wonderful job,” Lamai said to Anisa somewhat breathlessly. “You should give him his reward now.”
Anisa who had been sitting by less than four feet away watching my give Lamai a tongue lashing, was quick to respond. “Why should I give him his reward? YOU are the one who received the services! YOU should give him his reward!”
Lamai didn’t say a word. She just sat up, pulled me closer to her and began undoing my belt. Opening my trousers and pulling down my boxers, she began giving me a blow job.
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I thought it was a suitable reward – oral sex in exchange for oral sex. But no sooner than she had me at full staff, she reclined again on the couch and gave me a torrid come-hither look as she tucked her knees into her armpits.
I again looked over toward Anisa to see how she was reacting to the invitation I was receiving from Lamai. Anisa raised her glass again as if to bid me a bon voyage.
So again, I dove into Lamai, this time glans first.
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I had a wonderful time stretching out Lamai’s under-utilized koochie.
Afterwards, I had to help Lamai and Anisa upstairs so they could shower and go to bed.
Anisa woke me up in the middle of the night and demanded some of the same treatment I had given to Lamai earlier.
The next day when I got up for work, both Lamai and Anisa were still sound asleep.
And that was the last time I ever saw Lamai. She and Anisa remained close friends. Lamai often came to our home while I was at the office but she always left before I returned home. Anisa would tell me that Lamai had come over and relayed her best regards but, I am very sad to say, Lamai and I never crossed paths again.
I am certain that was Lamai’s intent.
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I had my share of wild times and then some. This is partly because I’m old (been a bad boy for a loooonnnggg time), traveled the world and spent many years living in some of the most pussilicious places on earth.
But I’m sorry to say, I think I’ve just about run out of scandalous stories.
The rest of my stories are a bit less salacious.
But I will write about what it was like to go on a love safari in Southeast Asia.
But not for a while.
I’m going to be extra busy for the next couple of weeks.