Once You Go Black

Imagine this situation. After a long journey you've just landed in Lilongwe, Malawi. Your friend, a local that you've only ever met a handful of times before whilst on your home turf in Europe picks you up on the airport. She's not alone. A couple of her friends are doing the transport from the airport to where she lives. You and your friend are sitting in the back, she's beaming at you, happy that you kept your word and came to her turf.

Lilongwe is a planned city. After a while we - I'll take over the "you" from here but it'll still be situation description for another few paragraphs - arrive in a middle class residential area. The houses have a decent size yard around them and are gated and walled. Small compounds. Some - not all - do have a guard at the gate, but these are the old-man-needs-job guards, just to deter not to defend. The roads are dirt but there are clearly sewers and plumbing here. The car is driven inside the compound and the friends - that had been watching us in the rearview mirror all the way - say their goodbyes.

I don't understand the language - Chichewa - but it's clear from the animated chatter that they had expected some hanky-panky on the back seat. My friend, Joy, dismisses it with a giggle and something that must either have been "he's tired" or "he's shy" and of they go. I wasn't really paying attention to them though. I was looking at the biggest bed I have ever seen. Brand new. Solid wood. And it was standing outside of the house. The size... gigantic. I've seen some big beds. On occasion I've been living the life and I'm a tall man. I need a bed that's at least 2m20 long. This was easily 2m50. And it was a double bed. I'm not saying it was a full square, but if it wasn't it came very close. On top of it a mattress clearly made to fit it. In one piece. Wrapped with plastic still, brand new. And comparable with those thick boxspring mattresses you see today. This was not today, this was 2008 and I'm in a middle class compound in Lilongwe Malawi.

Joy sees me stare and says "that's for us dearest, some men will come later to take it inside". I am still staring openmouthed and reply "how is that going to get through the door?". She smiles and says "that's their problem, not yours". Fair enough I guess. The next moment Joy's mother - her sole remaining parent - comes out of the house with her grandson, Joy's 3 year old son. That was not a surprise, I did know about both the mother and her son. Joy is a single mom, the boy's father left her even before the child was born. There are also some other semi-related people living in the house, not servants but doing the menial tasks in return for having a roof and food. That's all fine by me, "it takes a village to raise a child" is not an empty sentence in Africa. What comes next is a bit of a surprise as Joy then leaves to collect the car - she had also bought us a I-don't-know-how-many-hands-down car - and I'm expected to stay put. Right.

Still with me? Imagine the situation then. You're sitting on a bench outside a house, not really feeling very fresh after about 14 hours of travel. You're sitting in between your potential mother-in-law and your potential step-son. Neither of which you've ever met before. In front of you the gigantic bed where you - if it ever can be moved into the bedroom - will be making out with respectively their daughter and mother. How is that conversation going to go?

How did I get there?

Well, Joy was another AdultFriender find. As I mentioned in another of my stories, not a fantastic place to find somebody then and a complete wasteland today. She was doing her master's degree in Antwerp, Belgium at the time. Whilst her mother raised her then very young child. I still remember her description line "Come on on boys". Never quite got what that was supposed to mean, but we got chatting. It quickly became clear that she wasn't there for a one night stand - very few women are actually, even on such sites - but open to a friends-with-benefits relationship. Which is my preference too.

I suggested a short meet-and-greet. I went to school in Antwerp myself, so know a couple of public locations where I could see her arrive - it's never a bad idea to play it safe - while at the same time providing the crowd to make her feel safe too. The statue of "Teun de Eierboer". I saw her arrive alone, no danger presented itself so I went to say hello. And that was that, we split up a few seconds later after both agreeing that what we saw was what we had expected and that we would continue chatting.

Our next meeting was a walk on the beach. I picked her up in the center of Antwerp. And I noticed that I wasn't the only one playing it safe, because initially two ladies stepped into the car, Joy had brought a friend. Not a problem, but the second lady was only there to register my face and then requested I brought her back. After which we got going towards Middelkerke on the Belgian coast. It's autumn and a regular week day, so there's practically nobody there. We walk along the beach and Joy lays out her story. All of it. That she's a single mother. That her son is being raised by her - also single - mother whilst she is getting her master's degree. I likewise give her my life story. There's a couple of times that we hug and hold each other, but when I raise my hands to her breasts she shrugs me of. A bridge too far. It doesn't break the mood though, we have a nice early dinner and I drive her back to Antwerp. We continue chatting.

A couple of weeks later she invites me to come spend some time with her in her student room. I'm not fully sure on what - if anything - is going to go down, but I do take a pack of condoms with me. I arrive at the doorstep at about 10 am. I only stagger out after midnight. What happens in between is without a doubt the best day of my life. She walks me up the stairs and again I notice how truly graceful she is. The typical movement of the hips that is almost - not quite - exclusive to African woman. Joy has that and then some.

As soon as the door of her room is closed behind us, she pulls me down for a kiss. A long kiss. Which ends with already most of our clothes strewn on the floor. Before I completely lose my head, I softly ask if she wants me to use protection, if she's on some anti-contraceptive. Her head shakes twice and a few moments later we are naked on her single bed. Joy is not a tall woman. Nice firm small titties. Nice hips. Sweet face with soft lips. The only thing she was a bit conscious about was the c-section scar on her belly, but I kissed it and she forgot about it.

You know what I love about African women? Sure, the dark skin is beautiful and it always feels warm to my touch. What I love best though is that there's so little frustration-with-self in them. Despite religion - and Joy is to this day very religious - despite being looked down on by men, all this very similar to the white-woman experience, almost all of them are in balance with their own body. And enjoy their own body. Having run into so many frustrated-for-whatever-reason white females, that particular fact is what brings me again and again to African women. A white female that enjoys sex is almost always either considered a slut or is a slut. A black female that enjoys sex is... normal.

The rest of that day went by in a blur. I first took her in the missionary position. She was tight and I filled her shaved little pussy gently until it accommodated me completely, my tip touching her cervix. I took my time, looking into her sweet smiling face, rubbing my chest against hers. I put my seed deep in her belly as she trembled in orgasm. Didn't even think about the fact that she might be fertile. I lay down beside her, but she wasn't about to let me rest and after sucking her juices and my sperm of my cock, gently put it inside sitting on top of me, cow girl style. Her pussy felt like a tight glove. Did I mention she can move her hips like no other? She can! I just moaned as she rode and milked me. I grabbed her nipples and twisted them, she moaned too but didn't miss a movement.

She came before she could get me there though and somewhat out-of-breath lay down on my chest, my cock still buried inside her. I cuddled her gently for a moment but then, considering she hadn't given me much recovery time either, slid out from under her. She lay on her belly, still recovering. I positioned myself behind her, pulled her behind up, opened her legs and entered her. Her slit was now well juiced but this different entry still brought on a moan her student neighbours definitely must have heard. It just encouraged me to fuck her harder.

And so it went all day long. We 69-ed, not caring about the earlier juices we were lapping up. She said she'd have to practice sucking me more so she could take me deeper in her mouth. I didn't say no to that, I loved being sucked. I still do. We showered together in a little single person shower cell and I took her between her ass cheeks while we did, shooting over her back as the hot water flowed down. At some point she made lunch for us in the communal kitchen. That gave us a bit of additional energy to continue. Lunch didn't take long and right afterwards I took her between her titties, sitting astride her, pushing my tip inside her mouth on every stroke.

Every time one of us seemed like giving up, the other would continue. Back and forth. Sucked her toes, so sensitive was her whole body by then that that too made her moan in pleasure. Finger fucked her when I couldn't get it up for a moment... those moments were never long though as she'd find another way to arouse me. Stopped counting the orgasms, what's the point if there seems no end to them?

Not sure who passed out first. Might have been me. I don't claim stamina-superiority, she completely wore me out.

But when I came by Joy was sleeping in my arms. I looked at the clock and it was almost midnight. I woke her up... and obviously I couldn't leave without gently - both of us quite sore - taking her one more time, now could I?

After that extraordinary - for both of us - day we floated apart a bit. I had the opportunity to go to India and I did so for six months. She finished school during that period and went back to Malawi and started working for a government organisation.

My last month in India was tough. The pace of work had dropped and that gave us expats the opportunity to look around us and see the reality of India. The local population despised us. And there's only two possible reactions to that. Either you start behaving like a colonial master or you go mad. I started doing the latter. There was nobody to talk to so I reached out to my Malawian friend. And she responded. She had missed me. And we took up chatting again and did some video calls that definitely rated 18+. At the end of the month I took the flight back to Belgium - never to return to India - celebrating new year 2008 in the plane home. I was very depressed. Little did I know that 2008 would be the year I would choose my wife.

Here's what I should have done. With perfect 20/20 hindsight vision what I should have done is see a headologist (that's what I call them) almost as soon as I got of that plane. Maybe do some time in a room with padded walls. That did in fact happen, but only in 2014. Instead I spent 2008 dallying with no less than eight different ladies. It was a very strange year. And I still don't know if it was my state of mind that did it.

The first thing I did do was clean up what remained of my LAT relationship that was about to go into it's sixth year. If that sounds harsh, what I did was even harsher. Called her, said that I didn't want to continue with her and if she could come and get her stuff that week while I was away for work or I would throw it out when I got back. O yes, and leave the key in the mailbox. That was it. She did as asked and I haven't talked to her again. The fact that I also didn't bring up the 40000,- euro "loan" I gave her to buy an appartment for herself may have helped a bit too.

The knock-on effect of that, as word got around of the break-up, was that I started getting proposals. Multiple proposals. I had never had proposals before. I'm not a social person. I lost my flower at 30!!! I found lovers on AdultFriender!!! And now I'm basically hot-bachelor material??? Several proposals from married women too. And what did I do? I took them ALL. Ever seen Magnus Carlsen play speed-chess against multiple opponents simultaneously? Insanely impressive, but in 2008 - and only then - I did better. I maintained eight relationships, all of which had a physical element and none of the ladies involved ever found out. I'm on speaking terms with most of them to this very day and one of them is my wife and mother of my child! But that's not the focus of this story.

Somehow I got it in my head that I was going to pick a wife from the potentials. That too was a mistake. And yes, I say that with the knowledge that I did pick one. Everything I did in 2008 was a mistake. Anyway, of the eight, four were eligible for that and Joy was definitely top tier. We had continued to chat and she was very pleased when I said I'd visit her in Malawi. Moreover, she was open to becoming my wife. I went twice that year, each time for three weeks. And on the first visit which must have been in February or so, the bed stood there, right in front of her house.

Some men did come to take it inside. Even on it's shortest side it didn't fit through the door unless it was slanted at an angle. But then the corner knobs wouldn't allow it through. After some discussion one of them got a saw out and cut of the knobs. None of the family blinked, so I didn't react either. After a lot more swearing and sweating they got it in the master bedroom in the back of the house. It filled most of that bedroom. And they spiked and glued the knobs back on. I didn't realize it just then, but the purpose of those things is to hold the mosquito-net, quite a necessary thing in Malawi.

Those first three weeks were a continuation of our day in her student room. With the exception that she did have to go to work during most of the day and did have other responsibilities. Every other moment though she was under me or on top of me. I put her on her back one time, her head tilted slight backward over the border of the bed. I was standing next to the bed and just slid my cock all the way into her mouth and down her throat whilst I squeezed her titties hard. Yes, she did learn to take me deep indeed.

One day her mom - who also worked in government - took me to see Joy at work. Joy was wearing a grey woolen dress with a belt that day, her hair done up. A very stern look. I had commented on it in the morning. As her mom pointed at her door and disappeared into the corridors, I went into Joy's office and closed the door behind me. She saw me - obviously - but was on the phone with someone and motioned - smiling - for me to sit down. I ignored that and stood behind her looking through the window for a bit. As the call seemed to go on and on, I closed the blinds, made 100% sure nobody could look in, raised Joy - still on the phone - by her shoulders, made her stand up and then pushed her front first down. I could hear her trying to finish the call, but I didn't care, I lifted the dress, undid my zipper and relieved my throbbing member from it's holding, pushed her legs open, pulled her underwear to the side and took her. She had the presence-of-mind to slam the phone down on the receiver as I did because the moan that escaped her mouth as I entered her - very - moist cave would have been pretty hard to explain. As the door was not locked I did it hard and fast and kept my hand over her mouth to keep her moans down. She was trembling in an orgasm that didn't subside for minutes when I shot her belly full. The situation and possible danger of getting caught had clearly done it's work. I did go over to lock the door then to give her time to recover her composure. After she did and sat back in her chair she beamed at me as I waved the stern looking government employee goodbye. My semen no doubt dripping down her legs.

All the while I was also trying to figure out if I could make it in Africa. And that would be the main focus of my second visit. The stress that caused me made it so we definitely had less "entertainment" in that second visit. Joy guaranteed me that she had plans for the future and that I wouldn't have to work if I didn't want to. She aimed at becoming a UN employee, taking further studies along the way. What an offer!!! In the end I decided against continuing the journey with her. Two things seemed unsurmountable. The first was the fact that I'm not social. Autistic does not seem to be a word anymore these days. My label - that I didn't ask for and only got when I was 35 - back then was "Asperger with high intelligence", the latter indicating how well one can compensate. Very well indeed, but that's in cold-hearted Belgium, not in the warm heart of Africa where everything, literally everything, requires a degree of social interaction. Appointment to get the car fixed? Might very well be but it ain't happening unless you put in half an hour or so of patter with the mechanic. Need a modem installed on your roof and connected? Sure. No less than five guys did show up on time for that but didn't even as much as take their gear out of the car before coffee was served and everybody's family to the n-th degree had been discussed. It. Drains. Energy.

Still, I might have stuck with it, but during that same visit I made the call back home that put the nail in that relationship-coffin. I called my parents. You know, the supposedly regardless-of-anything-you-do-loving-and-understanding pair of adults that have raised you. My father was not loving. He was not understanding. And nor was my mother that I could hear shouting racist slur in the background as the conversation was relayed to her. There was - in their opinion - a binary choice to be made.

A couple of days later I had made my sad goodbyes and was on my way back to Belgium. I have never been to Malawi again. I never will.

I still chat with Joy on occasion. She's still a single mom. Her son is about to graduate from a university in Canada. She herself is a PhD and works for the UN. Just as she had said. I wouldn't have had to work another day in my life. Perhaps.