[A White Man in Africa Ch. 01](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/o6yhsf/a_white_man_in_africa_ch_01_mm/)
**Summary:** In chapter two I go back in time to tell you about my first introduction to black cock and how I changed from classic heterosexual to raging cocksucker.
Note: All characters are over 18 and consent.
Given my recent proclivities since arriving in Nairobi, often when I was in the office my curiosity won, and I’d find myself searching for porn online. The result was that a few sites (all interracial, white guys, ebony ladies) made their way into my daily list of favourite sites to browse.
**Discovery**
Before Nairobi, porn didn’t excite me much. White or black girls. No tingle, no stirring in the pants. Then, that changed to seeking daily discoveries of some of the most mind-blowing interracial porn that was online. What took it to a whole other level and made it so arousing—after 5 p.m., after work, I’d get to try out all the things I’d seen in Safari, in real life. Kenyan girls are the least inhibited and sexiest women known to mankind—there isn’t anything they won’t do. There is something about black women, Kenyan black women. I don’t know what it is. Don’t get me wrong. I can write a few hundred pages on all the things I love, but that won’t capture the intoxicating magic of being with a black woman. I was totally, wholeheartedly, irreversibly addicted. And daily, like a drug, consciously and subconsciously my levels of inhibition dripped away with the ever higher levels of addiction I was developing.
A couple of months after arriving in Nairobi, porn started giving me a noticeable tingle, a noticeable stirring in my pants. A quickness of breath. The black girl in Safari was Electra with large curvaceous-perfect boobs and a humongous, massive dick. I realised I was no longer looking at boobs and pussy but also… mostly… girls with dicks.
**Intrigue and Realisation**
I met Kate at the Florida 2000 club (sadly, no longer there today, I shed a tear when F2 closed). She was a bubbly, petite, mischievous, intoxicating pixie. We hit it off straight away. She was inexhaustible, while I was recharging ? she had me fist her. We also talked a lot (I don’t know where we found the time ?). I remember her describing her craving to suck dick, how she loved it so much, the taste, the feel of a dick in her mouth, being on her knees, doing deep-throat, swallowing. And, that she was happiest when thinking her purpose was to service cocks.
One day while I was online, and with a deeply profound understanding of what she meant, I imagined servicing Electra. From that moment my online activity focused on black girls with dicks.
Giving head to Kate (and Wambui, Annabelle, Wendy, Njeri, Clare, Njoki, and Soyen) changed. While I still enjoyed it so very much, in my mind’s eye I was also imagining what if they were Electra (or Raven, or Amanda Coxxs, or Vanniall, or Peachez, or Persuasion, or Kandi Kupkakes, or Alana Longcawk).
Nairobi doesn’t have girls with dicks, and soon my browsing started to include sites like Extra Big Dicks, Blacks on Boys, and some fancy filtering on Pornhub. I was spending a lot of time on Black-girls with dicks.
I was supplementing my unlimited daily dose of real-life pussy with regular virtual-life porn that featured cocks. And all those black cocks were starting to really turn me on, to the point I’d skip the action porn for pics of huge and large erect dicks. My growing stash of porn was all made up of black dicks.
And then it happened. On a rare and rainy evening while I was home, without a girl, I had my MacBook propped up on my knees with Photos open and set to Slideshow. As my boner grew with each new cock on screen, I unzipped my jeans and started to stroke, and almost immediately started to cum as I realised I had to start sucking black cock.
**Compulsion**
Picking up women in Nairobi is easy. The usual places—bars, clubs, but also restaurants, shops, anywhere actually. I’ve found friendly conversation and a smile can get you laid anywhere in Nairobi. And if you were the shyest, meekest human being, you’d get laid using Craigslist (those were the days ?) or Tinder. Even Facebook. Guaranteed.
After my watershed moment, I wondered how that would apply to men. I was in Africa, and with a subsiding erection and common sense rearing its head, I had brief flashes of stoning by enraged mobs, dirty and seedy jail cells, and deportation. So, I surmised I’d best feel for my footing online or talk to people I already knew were open-minded and fabulous people. People who might already have friends who held similar views to themselves.
Kate.
I used my t-shirt to wipe up the pooling puddle of cum in my belly button, a couple of stray strings off the leather sofa, then tucked away and zipped back up.
I texted Kate a quick, “Hey, what’s up, where are you baby”? Before I could switch from iMessage, I saw the three dots bubble…
“Bored, dorms, I have a paper to submit tomorrow”
We had known each other only a handful of weeks by then, but Kate and I already had a comfortable, informal, and polyamorous relationship. We shared stories of sexual exploits we’d had, texted what we had for lunch, what our weekend plans were. Neither of us clingy.
I texted back, “Almost done? When finished fancy a three-some?”
“??? serious?”
I knew Kate was bi. A couple of weekends ago we had taken a Friday evening flight down to Diani Beach. The next morning, lying naked on top of me in our beach hut, riding me with a sinuous slow-motion twerking movement that had me in seventh heaven, in her husky voice with that accent I loved so much, while I sucked on her nipples, she had told me.
“Yes, I’m serious, but you, me, another guy. A girl for another day”.
The three dots danced almost right away. “No, wait, for real?!?!”
“Yes, I want to try black dick”.
No dancing bubble, but 10 seconds later my phone rang.
**Addiction and Dependence**
“You’re crazy”, she said, and the combination of telling her I wanted cock, Kate, her voice, her accent, the fact that for the first time I had shared my secret passion with someone, I got a raging hard-on. Within moments of my earlier ejaculation, I was turned on again and fully erect.
“Yup, just like you. I have a hard-on!” I said, releasing my straining dick one-handed from my jeans.
“Don’t joke with me”, she said.
“Kate, I’m serious, I want this, no bs, I need this”, I said, my fist tight around my dick, hot, pre-cum leaking, throbbing.
“OK, give me an hour, I’ll be there”.
“Wait, what… what about your paper”? I asked.
“Fuck that, stop wanking, stay on your phone, I’ll text you”, and she hung up.
A moment of silence, I looked down at my hard-on, left fist tight around it, my mind calm, but horny as hell—was this really going to happen? Was it going to be as easy as this? It had stopped raining, a cool breeze blowing in off the verandah, the sun had set, and the nightjars were singing. My phone buzzed.
“I have someone in mind, checking if he’s free. Don’t back out on me!”, she had texted.
My MacBook, now on the coffee table, was still scrolling through black dick pics.
I texted back, “Not going to back out, I want this, can’t wait to see you here ?”.
Nairobi evening traffic is notorious, I doubted she’d be able to make it here within the hour. Her university dorm was across town from where I lived, then she had to meet with whoever she had enlisted. This was going to be at least a 2-hour hour. My quickening heart rate and the growing feeling of anticipation were not going to help. Or wanking, I reluctantly realised, as I tried to coax my dick back into my jeans.
I turned off my MacBook, tidied up, put on a clean t-shirt, put out some snacks—Pringles and peanuts—and opened a bottle of white wine. Cheese and crackers. I drew the curtains, but that blocked the breeze, so I opened them again. I had a Red Bull, tropical edition. My phone buzzed; it had only been 15 minutes since Kate’s last text.
“He’s free, we’re meeting, then coming over. ❤️”.
I texted back, “What’s with the ❤️? ?”
“You’re crazy, and I’m glad, and I’m crazy about you”, she responded.
An hour and a half later the doorbell rang.
•••
Kate as usual was beyond stunning. She had her hair in short braids, tight t-shirt, very tight very short shorts, low pumps. He was tall, a little taller than me, well built, dark. I ushered them in, or rather him—Kate was glued to my side.
We sat down, a little awkwardness. I looked for music on my phone, Chill Mix, and hit shuffle. Kenny G’s Songbird started playing on the Sonos. All three of us laughed. Awkwardness dissipating.
Kate peeled off her top and shorts and straddled me. Awkwardness was replaced with arousal. As usual she wasn’t wearing a bra or undies. Her warm body on top of me, her lips on mine, her tongue in my mouth, we made out. My hands were all over her, caressing, feeling her, I slid a hand between her legs. She was wet, soaking wet, and hot, my index finger slipped into her pussy, then my third and ring fingers followed. She leaned back, grinding down hard on my hand, pulling off my t-shirt.
She reached for my jeans, pulling on the top button, but not able to open it from her position. I reached down as she stood on the sofa, the heady aroma of her pussy filling my nose. I pushed off my jeans and boxers. She squatted, her hands guiding me into her…
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/o6ymuy/a_white_man_in_africa_ch_02_mfm
What thats B.S. to stop there!