My name is Samuel Blythe, and 20 years ago my aunt Mary left on an expedition to central Africa ad went missing. Despite her antics and her general demeanor which made her rather unpopular amongst our family and our social circle, I always enjoyed her company as a young boy. When she went missing, everyone assumed the worst, it was Africa after all, the odds of her returning are very slight. However the same adventurous spirit found it’s way to me and the feeling I had in my gut was she was still alive out there somewhere. At 25, roughly the same age as she was when she left, I boarded a vessel bound for the same port city she landed in. Aunt Mary left behind a copy of her notes and map in case something were to happen, but no one bothered to follow her till now. I’ve been on this ship for some time now, and I’m filled with the same excitement she must’ve felt. In 20 years however the city has grown and many of the villages may have changed as well, I hope her notes are accurate. Much like my aunt, I too have longer brown hair, a thick beard, and blue eyes. I stand taller than most men, and have been approached by several gentlemen who have daughters in need of a husband. I’ve only entertained one however, the father of Miss Abigail Longshore. An elegant woman, small frame, but very beautiful. Only 15 years old, she’s rather young to be married, but both her and her father wish it.
I agreed to the wedding only after my journey was completed. I’ve been waiting and planning for so many years, I’d hate to put those plans aside for my wife, especially when my aunts life may depend on it. So here I am, walking the streets of this port city, on the look out for the trail my aunt took years ago. I found myself surrounded more and more by the native peoples the further inland I went. Not surprising, but I had figured by now, our colony had made its way further inland. Village after village, I asked if they had ever seen a woman like me, even showing them her picture. All I got in response was she had traveled further inland but never returned. Reading her notes, she seemed convinced of some ruins that were hiding in the jungle here, but no matter where I went, or how far I traveled, there was nothing to be found. One thing of note that I did find for myself from her notes, is the local women’s custom of not wearing any clothing over their breasts. In England a woman’s reputation would be ruined, if nothing else, for showing her bare chest in public. Yet here the women walk around free as Eve in the Garden of Eden. Knowing my aunt, I wondered if this became a local custom she adopted to blend in more. The thought that after all this time I may come upon my own aunt and find her bare chested like this was of some concern to me.
I promised myself to Ms. Abigail, now here I am roaming through a sea of bare chested women. Some had barely a string of beads to cover their womanhood. It was as if nudity was expected of them, so the men could fall upon them at will. Finally I came through a village where the elder told of a pale skinned woman who crossed the river and vanished. He said the people warned her but she didn’t listen. I heard their stories and told them I mean to find her. With a great protest from the villagers, wishing me to stay, I grabbed my rifle and continued on. Through the valley and across the river, I climbed up the path through the jungle that my aunt had taken 20 years ago. I went quietly as I could, making as little noise as possible. I saw in the distance a village, and made my way closer. I was almost within earshot of the village walls when I felt something hit me in the neck. I pulled the dart out and before I knew it my vision faded.
I awoke some time later, I didn’t know how long, inside a thatched hut, tied to a post, with my clothes removed. I was unable to break free of the rope that had tied my wrists to this pole, and my attempts at resistance to the two men who came into the hut to grab me proved ineffective as well. Like me they were both naked. However there black skin contrasted with my pale white tone, and they stood just a few inches taller than I. I observed their faces and found them peculiar. Not only were these men not as dark as the locals I had encountered elsewhere, but their features were different as well. They seemed as if they were mixed. I didn’t have long to think as they pulled me through the opening and out into the road. The locals here lined the street as I was taken to the base of a temple staircase. So many of the men and women were lighter than the rest, who were the darkest I had ever seen. The common thing amongst them was that not a soul had any piece of clothing on. Man, woman, child, all were bare naked. I recall some years ago my friends tried bringing me to a brothel, and I resisted. Before setting foot in Africa I had never seen a woman naked, and now I had seen an entire village as nude as the day they were born. The men let their penises hang without concern as the women let their vaginas feel the open air.
Finally we reached the steps and I was untied and dropped. Soon, two women, both nude except for their jewelry emerged from the temple and came down to me. One was an old looking woman, as black as could be, no younger than 70 or 80 at least. The other, pale as snow with similar jewels however was much younger. No more than 45. When I saw her I knew it had to be her.
“Aunt Mary? Is that you?” I asked.
“My name is Mary, who are you?” she replied.
“I’m your nephew Samuel. I was only 5 when you left, we never received any word of what happened to you so we assumed you had died. I came looking for you and wound up here. What is this place?” I asked her.
“Come inside.” she told me, leading me into the temple.
“I sent a letter, hoping someone would follow me, I didn’t think it would take 20 years.” she said to me.
“I’m sorry, we didn’t get a letter. But I want to ask, what is this place and why are we naked?” I asked her.
“This temple as far as I can tell is all that remains of the ruins I set out to find. When I arrived the local men did to me what they did to you and brought me here. This woman believed I was some kind of prophet or something and made me stay. They made me into a “village mother” making me bear the children of all the men in the village. All those you saw out there with lighter skin are my children. Even more, they compelled me to relieve the men off their tension with my body, meaning I’ve had to lay with my own children for the past 20 years. I’m sorry to say, but with you here I know the same thing will happen to you. We can never leave, and we’ll be made to act as whores for these people until we die.” Aunt Mary told me.
“I can’t believe this, you mean you’re the mother of all those people out there? And they expect you to sleep with them despite being their own mother?” I asked in disbelief.
“That’s right, you’ll be made to impregnate all the women to ensure the village has “new life” as they call it. I just hope you brought more men with you.” she said.
“Unfortunately, it’s just me. However if I stay and gain there trust as you have, perhaps we can break free and escape this place.” I told her.
“It’s a possibility, but you will have to show yourself to them, most of all to the women. They expect to carry your children, as I have for the men. I see your well endowed. The first woman is waiting for you already. As the village mother, I have to watch over the encounter.” she told me.
Before I could ask more questions, a woman entered the room, which contained only a bed. She had nothing on at all, but her skin was glistening with oil, which she had been covered in prior to entering here. She was a lighter tone, but with a thin waist. Her breasts were rather large as was her ass. In fact a more well proportioned woman I don’t think I’ve ever seen. In between her glistening brown thighs was a pink slit, my first time with a woman and it goes down like this? If I ever make it out, I hope Ms. Abigail can forgive me. The young woman laid down on the bed, with her legs opening wide. The pink slit stretching apart revealing her vagina in it’s totality. In this moment I remembered my father’s drunken advice. When he’d come home drunk, he’s tell me of the many whores he had been with and how licking their pussy was his favorite part of the encounter. With this being my first time, and the girl looking no older than 17 despite her developed body, I decided I’d try such actions out for myself.
I got between her soft thighs and pressed my tongue against her entrance. Her sweet juices flowing out onto my tongue, making her twitch and buck against my mouth. As she screamed out, my aunt asked if this was something that had become commonplace back in England. “I can’t speak for everyone, but my father seems to enjoy doing it.” I said. I stood up and entered her pussy, the soft pink opening, for the first time. The feel of her around my penis was other worldly. Suddenly the need for whores, as well as the history of so many men conquesting others for their women made sense. If all pussy feels this good, then I might never leave here. As I made love to this girl, the old black woman came back in with at least a dozen more women. I couldn’t possibly impregnate all of them at once. But in her hands the older woman held a bowl which she made me drink from.
“What is this?” I asked taking a sip.
“It’s a magic potion. It makes you produce sperm, once you drink it you’ll be able to fill all the women here with your seed. Your “aunt” as you call her was once filled by her son seven times in one session after he drank this potion.” the woman told me.
After several minutes, I stopped feeling like myself. I went from a loving and compassionate partner to this girl I was inside of to an out of control sex crazed maniac. I was reduced to my base instinct to fuck at all costs. Somehow, in apparent defiance of known science. I shot my load of sperm into the first girl, and then moved on to the next, and the next, and the next. I don’t know how much of this potion she gave me, but after and hour I had fucked every woman she presented me with and had gone back for seconds. The room had been echoing with orgasms from the girls as I brutally fucked them and left them a present in their wombs. None had ever been with a white man before, nor I a black woman. Some were older women, mothers themselves, others younger about my age, and others still were no older than children. Without the mind altering liquid I might not have even touched her, but right now I only desired pussy, no matter the age. When a girl came in no older than 11, I threw her down on the bed and entered her virgin cunt. Holding the back of her neck as her body was laying face down, I fucked her like a rapist, desperately filling her pussy with cock as if I was about to die. Surprisingly, the girl not only took it like a whore, but began twerking on my cock as I fucked her.
I had learned the term twerking from the village mother as a local dance amongst women here to attract a mate. Many of the women did it on me but I never thought a girl so young would do it too. I flipped her around and fucked her tiny body in the most intense mating press I had performed so far. As the older women of the tribe stood around rubbing their swollen, aching, pussies as they dripped with my potent white cum, my balls pressed tightly against this girls pussy, releasing a torrent of cum like a flood from the heavens. Her pussy had been breed thoroughly, her entire cunt was filled with sperm. I got up and felt the potion finally wearing off, but had just enough left for one last pussy. I scanned the room. My primal hunter instincts looking for one last pussy to fill. I had fucked everyone here, all except one. My aunt Mary stood watching the sight, confident that her nephew would surely spare her. But I wasn’t in my right mind, and her pussy was still empty.
Before she could protest, I held her down, on her back with her legs up. I entered the pussy of the woman I had set out to rescue, and began to fuck her as intensely as the other women in the room. I had only the stamina for missionary, but I fucked her hard and deep regardless. “Please Sam, I’m your aunt! Please don’t fuck me!” she begged.
“You fuck you own children, what’s my cock going to do?” I replied. It seemed to get through to her, or at least her body, because she wrapped her legs around my back and held me against her large soft breasts as I exploded one last time inside her pussy. I knew something as soon as I emptied myself into her. That was that we would never leave, the promise of pussy here was better than anything Ms Abigail might give me. I hoped as I lay in a pool of sweat that every single one of these women not only carries my babies, but that they all give birth to girls. I want nothing more than to breed as many women here as possible, even if they’re my daughters.
———-
I hope you enjoyed this, it’s a second part to a story I wrote a few months ago. I know I haven’t posted in a while, I just haven’t had much ideas for new stories. I see you liked my mother’s story, it seems everyone in my family is a slut deep down. I’m about halfway through my pregnancy already and everything is going fine so far. In other news, I caught my son ( the one who caught me naked) with my 11 year old daughter. He was masturbating while they sat beside each other watching a porn video. I don’t know if he found it on his own or if he found out about my husband and I’s fantasies but he was watching the famous scene of Piper Perri with the five black men. When I caught them my daughter said, “Look mommy, that girl looks like me!” with complete innocence. It was hard to punish them since I was honestly laughing to hard about it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story and leave a comment. Attached is an AI generated picture of the women of the story, enjoy.
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