Sweat drips down my neck. Senegal heat clings like a lover. Hallway creaks under my bare feet. Door to bathroom ajar. Steam slips out. I push in, thinking she’s out shopping. Water hisses. Azou stands there, naked, soapy curves gleaming. Dark skin shines. Her eyes lock mine. No scream. Hands on hips. ‘No need to knock, boss.’ Heart hammers. I back out fast. Door clicks shut. But her laugh echoes soft.
Nights blur. She struts nude now. House our secret world. Village whispers close—neighbors’ huts peek through palms. Windows unshuttered. Risk buzzes. She buys tight dresses. Poses shy at first. Then spreads legs for my lens. ‘Not a whore, boss.’ But her pussy lips part teasing.
The Contact
One evening, toolbox clatters. She’s on me. Naked. ‘Lie down, boss. Massage.’ Floorboards groan. Her hands slide oil-slick over chest. Down. Short tents. ‘Spell’s hit you.’ Fingers grip cock through fabric. I burst, soaking shorts. Cum stinks hot. She grins. ‘Saved you.’ Daily now. Ritual.
Shorts off. She laughs. ‘White boy’s tiny hose.’ Sucks deep. Tongue swirls. Gulp. Swallows all. ‘Good seed, boss.’ Photos everywhere. Her tits, ass on walls. Jealous glare at my dates.
I flip her. Fingers tease clit. She bucks. ‘Your mouth, boss.’ Dive in. Pussy floods sweet. She cums hard, thighs quake. Village dogs bark outside. Did they hear?
Cousin Malou arrives. Tall, ripe like Azou. One bed drama. Azou claims mine. ‘Employees don’t fuck bosses.’ Lie. Champagne pops. Bubbles fizz. They dance nude, hips grind. Spell strikes. Malou sucks clumsy. Then expert. Cum jets. Her turn. Azou eats her out. Moans muffled. Floor creaks loud. Light filters through bamboo blinds—shadows of passersby?
The Indiscretion
Penis slides Malou’s thighs. Wet slit welcomes. Thrust deep. She tongues Azou frantic. Orgasms chain. Azou sulks later. ‘She’s assistant, not employee.’ Excuse.
Village trip. Return. Azou climbs me in bed. Cunt sinks on cock. Slow. Deep. ‘Marabout says okay now.’ Bullshit. She rides wild. Hips slap wet. Scream peaks. I cum inside. Walls thin. Neighbors stir?
Threesomes nightly. Pussies grind. Cocks buried. Whimpers choked. Creaks betray. Blinds rattle in breeze. Village eyes hungry. Heart races. Secret pulses. Cum drips floors. They ‘heal’ each other—tongues lap clits. I watch, stroke. Risk sweet poison.
Morning light slits door. Azou curls close. Wakes snarling Wolof curses. But clings. ‘No more, or eyes out.’ Lie. Cycle spins. Bodies slick. Breaths ragged. Village sleeps. We burn.