Cheating in A[F]rica

I was on secondment in a US Embassy in Nairobi as a contractor for the federal government in my early 20s. I was in country for a couple months at this point, and I had already seen a steady churn of NGO workers, contractors, diplomats and businesspeople cycling through, but…if you’ve ever spent any time in this setting, it is a pretty hard and fast rule that you do not want to be shitting where you eat, if you know what I’m saying. Not to mention that this crew is generally pretty homely.

Except for Sara. She came in with a blue chip international management consultancy looking to get the lay of the land in the business community in Nairobi so that they could shake all the right hands and grease the right wheels. Normally, these women were super buttoned up and professional—not to say she wasn’t—but there was definitely some liveliness to her that was totally absent from the rest of her team there. She was tall, with dark olive skin and thick, dark hair, with long, thin legs and a minuscule waist. She had a humongous, toothy smile, and laughed with her entire body. Her outfits were usually more casual—dress pants and a thin, flowy blouse that couldn’t hide the fact that she had an absolutely insane body. It was hard not to notice when she would reach back to tie her hair up in a meeting and her collarbones were visible.

We became pretty fast friends. The pool for after-hours socializing is pretty limited when your travel options are limited and your whereabouts are pretty closely circumscribed by the local Embassy security detail, but she was always up for a drink after work and loved to hang out in the local bars until late, when her company would pick us up and drop us off at our respective apartments near the Embassy. She had a boyfriend, and was up front about that, and I was by no means looking to get in the middle of anything or make problems for anyone. Plus, we actually got along and genuinely just enjoyed each other’s company. I thought we might even hang out when I was back in DC.

Every once in a while, someone would invent a reason to “go out,” which usually involved getting a table at some club nearby that was vetted. These events would get pretty fucking sloppy really quick—imagine a bunch of Jos. A. Bank-wearing DC nerds at the State Department trying to be cool for a night—but it was always a good time even if it wasn’t “cool.”

Sara was in Nairobi for about a month at this point, and her trip was coming to a close. She joined us for dinner and drinks before we moved to the bar, and we sat at one end of the table, drinking and making fun of our colleagues. She was flirtatious and animated whenever she spoke, so I didn’t really think anything of it when she would grab my arm while she was telling a story, or when she would grab my shoulder when she threw her head back laughing.

The group moved to the “club” phase of the night, which is usually equal parts hilarious and extremely cringe. The two of us kept drinking sitting on a. couch while our coworkers one by one revealed exactly how fucked up they were when they started dancing—by themselves (fine), with each other (not good), with obvious prostitutes frequenting the club for exactly this particular clientele (extremely bad). We watched in a mix of normal amusement and horror, and she actually had go to as far as running interference for one of her married superiors and corralling him back to the group when he seemed like he might be leaving with someone we didn’t come with.

After this incident, the night mellowed out a bit. Sara and I found ourselves dancing together, too—nothing I wouldn’t want my own girlfriend doing….at first. But then she started getting into it, tossing her hair around while she swung her tight, toned ass in front of me, and started giving me looks that suggested something more. I knew she had a boyfriend, and I knew she could have just as easily been having a good time, so I did my best to contain myself.

That flew right out the window when she leaned in and said “let’s get out of here.” We’d almost always shared a ride home with at least one other person in this extended group of people, so this would be a first. I gave the guy my address, and started to give him hers when she cut me off and said “no, just that one destination, thanks” and collapsed back into the backseat next to me.

She leaned against me. I figured she was just drunk—again, we’d been out all night, she had a boyfriend, she hadn’t DONE anything, and I thought that maybe she just wanted to crash on my couch for the night so she didn’t have to go to sleep alone in a foreign city when she didn’t necessarily have her wits about her. I stole a glance at her chest in the cab, heaving slightly with each breath. She took my right arm and put it around her, and snuggled up next to me while she played with my outstretch hand.

Again, I did…everything I could to explain this away in my mind. I didn’t want to make a move and ruin what was turning out to be a great friendship. I didn’t want to be complicit in her cheating on her boyfriend. But I couldn’t help myself and my mind started racing—are you really going to say no? Are you really going to pass this opportunity up? Is it…really cheating if you’re on a different continent?

We pulled up to my apartment building, paid the fare, walked past security and up to my unit. I opened the door and flicked the lights on, and went to the bedroom to grab the spare set of sheets and a blanket to set myself up to sleep on the couch so that Sara could have the bed. She got herself a glass of water, coughed, and said “what are you doing?” like I had just tried to drown her puppy.

“I figured I would crash here and you could take the bed”

“That’s not what’s happening here—follow me” she replied.

She had already kicked her shoes off, and she was a couple steps ahead of me, unbuttoning her blouse on the way into the bedroom. I stood in the doorway when we got there, and she sat on the edge of the bed looking at me, with a lock of her loose curled hair in her face and covering one side of her black lace bra. “Come here” she said to me.

I walked over sheepishly. She pulled me closer by the tie I had loosely draped around my neck, and kissed me deeply—I could taste the gin on her breath—and she said “I am not a cheater.” See, this is an extremely confusing thing for me to hear at this point, because all of the events leading up to this precise moment made me believe that she was, in fact, about to cheat on her boyfriend, with me specifically. “OK…” I said. “…and it’s not cheating if we don’t have sex” she said. Sure, Sara. Whatever you need to tell yourself.

She stood up to lazily rest her arms around my shoulders while we kissed. Softly at first, but slowly, her tongue began to explore my mouth, and mine hers. I was getting hard—the booze, the girl…the *cheating* was getting me extremely excited, and I was extremely turned on by the idea of becoming someone else’s indiscretion for a change. My hands began to wander over her soft skin, stopping at the small of her back to pull her closer to me, which she met with a deep exhale into my ear.

She turned me around and push me down on the bed and began to slowly unbutton my shirt. I kicked my shoes off. While she focused her gaze on each button as she undid it, she started listing her rules “One, we’re not having sex. Two, this is about me. And three, you will not cum in my mouth, on my face, or in my hair—deal?” I nodded—what the fuck else was I going to do, negotiate this with her? I was just going to let this happen however it played out. Plus, something told me that these rules were actually entirely negotiable if I played my cards right.

She finished unbuttoning my shirt, and then got to my belt. She curled her fingers around my waistline and used the leverage to meet her face with mine—”I mean it” she said, smiling, as her fingers gripped hard around my hard cock through my dress pants. We made out for a while longer and rubbed each other, and I unhooked her bra while I kissed her ears and neck, then down her collarbones, and down to her exposed tit and its hard, dark nipple, which I promptly licked and teased while she hummed in pleasure.

I continued for a brief minute, and decided to push my luck. If it’s about her, let’s make it about her. I kissed down the front of her while I held her wrists with one hand above her head. I slowly worked my way down her flat stomach, and used my free hand to undo her pants. She didn’t object.

I pulled them down to expose her legs, and I took my time taking her in. She truly was (and is) absurdly beautiful, and not in a “I cannot wait to fuck this girl” way. I slid down her body and grabbed her leg, kissing up the length of it, until I bit playfully on the inside of her thigh. She yelped a little, and I could feel the heat rising from her wet, translucent panties just inches from my mouth. I moved them to the side and gave her a quick, forceful lick from the bottom of her pussy to her clit, and she moaned while she gripped the blankets with one hand and the back of my head with the other.

She wanted it to be about her, so I made it about her. I went down on Sara like there was an apocalyptic meteor coming to extinguish all life on this earth. I slid two fingers inside her to press her g spot lightly while I licked her clit softly, lapping up all the juices that were readily flowing out of her. She writhed in pleasure below me and her breath started to get shallower and faster, so I could tell I was earning it.

I was licking her forcefully and consistently at this point, following the rhythm of her gyrating hips as she pressed my face into her pussy. She smelled incredible, and tasted even better, and my chin was soaked with her. “AHHH” she moaned, as she pressed my face deeper again into her pussy. “AHHHHHH” she moaned again. “AAHHHHHHH” she practically yelled, as she came, hard, with her thigh shaking around my head as she squeezed it between them while her torso bucked involuntarily with each orgasmic wave passing through her. I collapsed on the bed next to her proud of what I had done for her.

I figured we were done at this point—it was all about her, after all—but I was once again sorely mistaken. I did not have a second to consider any remorse I felt for making this taken girl cum harder than I assume her boyfriend could before she was moaning, satisfied in my ear as she swung her leg over mine, straddling my knee as she undid my belt. “DON’T cum in my mouth, face, or hair—I mean it” she repeated to me, as she pulled down my pants and exposed my hard, cut cock for the first time.

She immediately started to lick the length of me, base to tip, tip to base, taking the time to wire her tongue around the tip and flick it when she got to the opening of my penis. She started to jerk my cock assuredly with her hand that she wasn’t using to support herself, hair draping over it and obstructing my view. I grabbed a fistful of her thick brown hair to get a better look, and her dark green eyes met mine as she took me all the way into her mouth as she let out a low moan, as if to let me know she liked it.

There is definitely something about a girl who can confidently suck a cock that makes me weak. It’s not a chore for her at all, but she’s giving 100% effort and not wasting anyone’s time here. This is her main event, and she knows how to make a man’s toes curl. But again, this wasn’t about me. She built a steady rhythm with her hand and her wet, wet mouth, interrupting it only to throat me intermittently and slurp at the thick spit collecting on my cock when she needed to take a breath. I was melting. I lay my head down and closed my eyes, savoring the feeling while she worked my dick in a manner that made me both extremely jealous of and very sad for her boyfriend back home.

I could feel my blood pressure rising and my head getting hot—literally seeing stars from how good Sara sucked my cock—when suddenly I heard her lips pop off the head of my dick and she stopped completely. I cocked my head up and realized what was going on. She had gotten up off of me when I was just about to cum, and she stopped to watch my dick twitch in anticipation as I tried to hold back what felt like a gallon of cum. She bit her finger playfully with her hair covering half her face and laughed at me as a look of abject disappointment made its way to my face.

That’s when she straddled me and enveloped my cock between her pussy lips, pressing it up against my stomach as she rocked her hips back and forth on me like a bellydancer. “We’re not going to have sex” she repeated, more for her benefit at this point than mine. I pulled her closer so only her hips were moving on me while she jacked me off with her dripping wet pussy. Her breath was getting shallow again, but my pending orgasm had subsided after she edged me.

In the midst of this, my tip slid into her, and to this day, I swear this was no fault of mine. She gasped when it happened, and quickly backed off of me to reposition herself to resume sliding my dick between her pussy lips again. It happened again, and she yelped again, but this time with feigned worry. She repositioned herself, and then resumed her teasing again. It happened a third time, and this time she coyly smiled and said “it’s not my fault” with a mischievous smile on her lips.

She was still firmly in the driver’s seat here when she dipped the tip of my cock into her again. And again. And again. It was driving me insane, but she was clearly getting off on the power play, so I indulged her for a little while longer. “You’re not going to cum in me, right?” she asked when she slid me in for what felt like the 30th time. I shook my head, and she immediately lowered herself all the way onto me while she pushed my torso back onto the bed, taking the entire length of me into her pulsating pussy.

I grabbed her hips and guided her as she ground them into mine, isolating the movements of her ass and hips as she maneuvered my cock deep into her pussy. She was running her hands through her hair and I ran my hands up her rib cage and onto her tits as she rode me. I was not long for this ride at all.

I knew I was close, and I wanted this to theoretically last as long as I could stand it, but it was too much. I flipped her onto her back with her legs wrapped around my hips and started to fuck her as hard as I could, and I think it was hurting her a bit from how she sounded. I fucked her slowly, making sure she felt every inch of me as I went in and out of her. I tried to control myself, but it was too much. I knew I was ready to cum.

I told her I was close and I pulled out of her just in time. I jerked rope after rope after rope onto her slender frame, counting each rib as she inhaled in gratification and laughed that big toothy laugh all over again. She was coated, with cum racing down her sides and onto the bed, and proud of her accomplishment, and even happier that in her mind, she didn’t even cheat.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/o6pdr9/cheating_in_africa