A British teacher's experience of early post-independence Zimbabwe - Part 4, a short story by GutterrhymesEsq. Date added: 2012-08-28. Times viewed: 7811.
- Please SEND FEEDBACK - Writers love hearing from you. You can view the Authors profile here
- Intro: Het, rape, anal, double penetration, rimming, oral; Heavily pregnant Julie is the victim of a "date-rape"
A British teacher’s experience of early post-independence Zimbabwe – Part 4
That day in the garden was special. I am neither spiritual nor superstitious but as Tibor came deep inside my cunt, I felt a kind of release. But unlike my usual kind of release, I felt I had gained a new strength. Up to this day my daughter Rudo, “love” in local vernacular, is my strength, she is my friend and my moral compass. Paradoxically her generation is much more conservative, sexually than we were and that is thanks to the wretched HIV/AIDS pandemic. I conceived Rudo on that Sunday morning. The morning I took Tibor into the garden for a fuck, initially to show the cunt-flashing Nancy that the man was mine, for me to fuck when and where I chose to.
When I told Tibor that I was pregnant, his reaction was very scientific.
“Give me a urine sample and I will do a B-HCG at work”
Later that day he appeared quite disturbed.
“You are pregnant Julie, what do you want to do about it…I have a friend who can do an abortion…if that is what you want” he said coolly.
“I will keep the baby Tibor”
From that day on, Tibor could not keep his hands off me, rather, he could not keep his long dick out of me. We enjoyed more fucks than we had done before I was pregnant, the bigger my belly grew, the more fucking action he wanted. I also found him so sexy. I appreciated the fact that I still appealed to Tibor.
Saturday night and I was alone in my room, heavily pregnant but still quite active. Tibor had gone to his parents’ farm in Chesa, Enkeldoorn. Two friends of mine invited me to Sarah’s Night Club, downtown, a club frequented by the local gay community and quite upmarket. Sarah’s had a bad reputation as a rather racist joint, the truth though was that the management discouraged mixed African gender couples, purely based on past experience that such people tended to cause ructions when they saw same sex couples kissing or otherwise demonstrating love openly.
After Sarah’s my two friends invited me to their old but tastefully decorated house in Belvedere, for some “night caps”. George was a Cambridge educated engineer and his love was Paul, a German doctor. George, a local Ndebele boy, was strictly gay, but Paul, the more muscular and handsome of the two was known to enjoy the odd cunt. They pampered and fussed over me the moment we entered their lounge. Soon we were having some weed, while Paul had other chemicals whose nature I never knew but which I nonetheless declined to have.
After my cup of coffee, I gradually started feeling calm and relaxed and must have blacked out because the next thing I remember, it was 9:00am the following day and I was lying alone on a small bed in their visitor’s bedroom. I felt truly shitty. I had a horrid taste in my mouth and my back ached so much I at first feared I might be in early labour, so my hand went instinctively to my crotch feeling to see if I had “broken waters”. But that was clearly not the case, I was not in labour. My jaws were sore as was my neck and my head felt like I had been kicked by a zebra!
My mind went back to the night before and I remembered when I had fallen asleep, it was after the coffee which I had taken in order to try and stay awake and enjoy the extremely interesting company of my gay friends . Then I clearly recalled Paul undressing me, starting with my maternity dungaree followed by George removing my white panty jumpsuit.
“I must have been dreaming” I thought.
I recalled nothing at all. It was like nothing at happened after the 2 lovers had undressed my. Up to this day I do not remember a word of what was said as I was being undressed.
Lying in that little bed, it felt quite eerie and I started to panic. But I had so little physical strength, I remained fixed in the foetal position, coiled up in the bed. As I started to relax a little, another vivid event form the night before came to my mind.
“The fucking bastards!” I gasped.
George was holding my mouth wide open with blocks of rubber foam on his finger tips as Paul inserted his circumcised prick into my open mouth. He fucked his dick against my cheeks as both of them shouted something and smiled and laughed. I tried hard to focus, trying to recall the words but up to this day I don’t know a word of what those twisted perverts were saying to me or to each other. What I recall is trying to say something but not being able to say anything as, for a long period, Paul shagged my mouth. To avoid choking on my secretions I had to move my tongue and in doing so, I licked his fairly thick pink dick.
Then everything went blank. No matter how I tried, I could not recall a thing about what happened at the end of that mouth shagging sequence. It just ended abruptly.
I was gripped by a fear that the two gay men would come and help themselves to my mouth again. Another event became clear in my mind. Paul was kissing my lips and my face as I lay on my back with my big belly exposed in all its gravid glory. I could not see George, Paul’s face and my impressive shiny belly obstructed him from my view. I could feel him though, as he licked my cunt, pushing the hair out of the way with his tongue and pushing his tongue deep inside. I do remember very vividly how that tongue felt so good yet so wrong. My body was shivering with a mix of fear and pleasure as George’s fingers violated my cunt. He had two of his fat fingers hooked inside my cunt, shafting in and out. Paul was saying something to him but I could not hear. When George offered his dripping wet fingers, covered in some whitish sticky goo and other “stuff” to Paul, Paul licked off all of it and swallowed. He then went on to kiss me deep into my mouth. And I had a good taste of my own cunt. From that point, another black void follows…not a thing.
I heard George’s voice down the passage from my bedroom, and I realised that I was fully awake. Through the gap in the curtain, I could see that the sun was up outside. I could hear the sounds of birds and particularly the loud “scream” of the “go away bird”. This was kind of reassuring in that I knew I was alive and still pregnant. Both Tibor and had made peace with the fact that we were going to be single parents, for the foreseeable future, we wanted our baby to come out in good shape.
It became clear to me that I had been raped and raped hard. My cunt was quite sore and that could not have been due to Tibor’s physical bonking, my vagina was quite used to that and it did not “make headlines” in my sexual diary, not any longer. As I shifted around, I realised that my anus felt heavy and that “twitching” my anal sphincter caused considerable discomfort. My hand instinctively swiped between my butt cheeks and the bung-hole sandwiched between them. I brought my hand to my nose, there was a strong fruity smell, perhaps admixed with some mint, camphor or such. Raspberry shit!
George had inserted some contraption; a long thick tube attached to a syringe, deep inside my anus and pumped in and sucked out some stuff as I lay paralysed on my side. Paul was holding a towel and wiping everything that flowed out. Both were laughing hysterically, I couldn’t hear a sound but they were animated, like wild dogs or hyenas after snatching a kill of some other luckless predator. It all became quite fuzzy in my mind. George was parting my butt-cheeks with his hands as he wiped off all the excess “raspberry-mint” fluid and licked the rest of it off my anus. I do recall his hot breath as he licked my pooper, gently. Then everything goes totally blank.
My next clear vision made me shout loud.
“They buggered me, the fucking bastards, they buggered me and did a double penetration. Oh my God..”
Indeed, they did. Very clearly what happened is they carried me onto a well cushioned sofa. George lay on his back with his long and rather thin dick pointing straight up. With much fumbling around, almost comical, they placed me on top of George with my bare butt on his crotch. Big Paul lifted me up and lowered me onto George’s dick and it slid right into my arse without much difficulty. Paul supported me around the belly as George’s prick disappeared into my bowels. I can see myself as I screamed loud but I do not recall hearing my voice. Having finished inserting his lover’s dick in my well-prepared anus, Paul crouched over the two of us. His strong German frame hovered over both of us and with amazingly agile flexibility, he gently inserted his fat five inches of thick meat into my wet pussy.
I was most uncomfortable. The two cocks were literally filling me up inside. This was the first and last time I was in such a depraved situation. The two homosexual lovers, kept striking “high-fives” and giggling non-stop. The self-congratulatory mood was hard for me to understand. I started sobbing. I was not enjoying this awkward outrage at all, not one bit. Then they started moving their pricks in and out of my two passages, back and forth. It was to me like they were fucking each other. I was sure all they could feel were their cocks rubbing against each other separated by thin membranes. They seemed to go on and on. I felt George’s tongue licking my back and his hands supporting my butt off his crotch, caressing my big belly and just touching me all over. My cunt juices were drying out fast as they both hurt and assaulted me. My anus fared better because of the copious amounts of fruits mint liquid they had pumped up my bowels.
No matter how hard I try. I have absolutely no memory of what happened to me for the rest of that night. How I ended up cleaned-up, in my own bed. Clearly, this was a well-planned “date-rape”. No doubt the homosexual criminals used me for some variety, no doubt they enjoyed it all. No question about the fact that I enjoyed parts of this sordid assault but the double penetration was not pleasurable at all. Men who enjoy double penetration enjoy fucking each other because that is effectively what happens in there.
I never confronted George and Paul until both died of AIDS one year apart in 1992-3. I did not want them to have the pleasure of knowing that I remembered their dastardly act. I avoided them like the fucking plague they were. I never told Tibor about this. I suspect he was going to murder the bastards and end up on the death row, convicted murderers do get hanged in Zimbabwe.
A few more episodes of Julie Jones story in Zimbabwe to follow.
End of Part 4
- Use for below to send feedback to author - View the Authors profile here
- The following form will send feedback to the author about this short story, please enter your e-mail if you wish a reply (which is obviously at the authors own discretion)