Honeytrap

The writing of this story was inspired by various computer-generated images, available on a certain online forum, that shows pairings of distinguished-looking elderly black men with beautiful young white women. That's not my usual cup of tea, but these images show such affection and attraction between the man and women, despite the age gap - they're clearly gaga for each other - that it sparked my erotic imagination. I wanted to create a scenario for such a love affair. I guess I'm a sucker for an unlikely pairing, if there's real tenderness and commitment, as well as erotic heat, behind it. The man in most of these images strikes me as African rather than, say African-American, I couldn't say why. He's well-dressed (when he's wearing clothes), and I imagine him as an important public figure within some Central or West-African country. In this story, I've called this fictional country Ludamba, presumably a former Portuguese colony. The place names and language names are made up. The characters' names, and some of the cultural elements, are drawn from a mishmash of Central or West-African societies, or invented by me. No disrespect is intended towards any real-life country or its people. And of course, all sexually active characters in the story are well over the age of eighteen.

The woman in this story is named Bunny, appropriate for a wealthy prep-school graduate type, but also as a nod to the "snowbunny" trope: a young white woman attracted to black men. I acknowledge that this is morally tricky stuff. There's a lot of interracial porn and erotica out there that is deeply racist, even as it fetishizes black men, and I'm playing with some of these tropes here. I hope I'm subverting the racism, rather than perpetuating it. To be clear, I don't believe there's such a thing as anti-white racism in Western society. Racism is not merely prejudice, but a systemic asymmetry in social power, and unfortunately non-white people as a class don't currently have such power. If that viewpoint is something you can't handle, stop reading now and save us both grief.

The plot also contains elements of international espionage, a topic about which I have no real knowledge, and so these elements are perhaps wildly disconnected from reality. Or perhaps not. The people who know aren't talking. The happy ending is probably overly optimistic. We seem to live in a world now where extreme corruption has been normalized, such that a whistle-blower can no longer shock us into demanding honesty and transparency in economic and political affairs. Or if we do, the powerful can just ignore the public outcry. O tempora, o mores.

* * *

"Miss Bunny... please... we're here, you have to wake up now please."

The driver gently shook her.

"Mmph, get your hands off me!"

"Apologies, Miss Bunny."

"You don't touch me, ever," the young woman snarled.

"No Miss Bunny."

Where was she? Oh... yeah. Africa.

A hangover sat like a lead weight on her brain. Her mouth felt like the Sahara desert after vast flocks of diarrheal buzzards had flown over. Bunny Gwinnett stumbled out of the back seat of the air-conditioned limo and stood up. The heat smacked her in the face. Shielding her eyes from the sunlight, she took in the sight of the white stone villa before her.

Then she threw up onto the courtyard driveway.

"Shithole," she muttered to herself.

"Some water, Miss Bunny?"

She took a sip from the cup offered to her, then wiped her mouth and chin on the handkerchief he gave her.

"Thank you... what did you say your name was?"

"Mbala, Miss Bunny. Don't worry about the mess: I'll clean that up. You go on in, please; I'm sure your parents will be eager to greet you."

Yeah, right.

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you, Mr. Mbala. I'm really jet-lagged right now, but that's no excuse; I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course, no worries, Miss Bunny."

It had not been a pleasant flight - are they ever? Departure had been scheduled for an ungodly 5:10 a. m. - then delayed for nearly two hours to resolve some mechanical issue. From San Francisco to Lisbon, then an Air Portugal flight to Ouasumzi, the capital of Ludamba, she'd been in transit for nearly a day and a half now. Her first-class seat, and liberal imbibing of complimentary negronis (she had turned twenty-one the previous month), had not insulated her from the squall of crying babies in coach class behind her. So sleep had eluded her during the flight. Instead she'd fallen asleep on the ride from the airport to her parents' villa on the outskirts of the city, this sweltering shithole destination where she would have to spend her summer vacation, far from her Stanford friends.

Bunny's father was high up in Tetratech. (Though not quite high enough, it seemed, to fly her over in a private jet.) Yes, that Tetratech, the company that owns half the software and most of the hardware in your phone, and many other electronic appliances you use on a daily basis. Ryan Gwinnett was VP of something or other. Or was the Tetratech position merely his diplomatic cover? Bunny had long suspected that her father actually worked for an entirely different "Company." In any case, he'd been based in the US embassy here for the past two years, working on rare-earth mineral trade deals or something.

The house-boy (did they still call them that here?) came out and took her bags, ushering her inside. At least it was air-conditioned. A few minutes later, she was welcomed into the tepid embrace of her mother.

"You need a shower, dear."

"Nice to see you too, mom. I've been up since the wee hours of yesterday morning, and it's hot as hell out there. So, yeah, I need a shower. Why did you have to bring me here at all? I begged you to let me stay in Palo Alto."

"You'll have to take that up with your father. He's at the embassy right now." As usual, her mother was semi-out-of-it, on downers or alcohol, or both. "Afonso will show you to your room. Dinner is at eight."

A shower, a few large glasses of mineral water, and a few hours of sleep later, Bunny felt a bit better.

Her father took her aside into his study after dinner.

"Glad you're here, Bunny. It's about time you come see where we live now. It looks like I'll be stationed here for the indefinite future."

"You threatened to cut off my allowance if I didn't come; it's not like I had much choice."

"No, I don't suppose you did," he grinned.

"So why am I here, father?" She never called him dad.

"Is it so odd that parents should want to see their daughter from time to time? Besides, this will be an education for you -- invaluable experience, should you choose to go into a career in... international relations, shall we say."

"You got me an internship? Why didn't you say?"

"Oh, nothing so bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed as that," he chuckled, sipping his bourbon. "No, what I had in mind for you was just a bit of socializing, attending some embassy parties - there's usually something going on several times a week. You'll help spruce up the atmosphere a bit, add a note of feminine charm. You'll meet people, some key Ludamban figures. Get to know them. Cultivate relationships. The contacts could be quite useful."

Her blood boiled. "Un-fuckin-believable! You want me to use me as a honeytrap. Your own daughter!"

"That's an unnecessarily crass term for it, Bunny. And an exaggeration. You don't actually have to go to bed with anyone. Just, you know, smile and flirt a bit at some parties. Help the embassy staff with the entertainment. Meet people for drinks, if you get the opportunity, and listen to what they say. Is that so onerous? Anyway, it's what you do naturally, my dear, left to your own devices. You're what my generation called a 'party animal.'"

"Un-fuckin-believable!" she repeated, but now with a tone of resignation.

"Oh please. Don't try to wrap yourself up in moral outrage, Bunny, it doesn't suit you. You haven't exactly been living as a nun in Palo Alto. And as you say, you don't have much choice. Don't forget who's holding the purse strings."

* * *

Koffi glanced at his watch. 21:30. He would stay another half hour, no longer. Then he could make his excuses and head home. He was not a young man anymore, with the energy to stay up half the night. He didn't enjoy these diplomatic events on the whole... but the hors d'oeuvres tonight were exceptionally tasty.

The men were in black tie, the women in cocktail dresses, in an era, location and climate where such clothing made no sense. He knew very well that the whole point of these embassy soirees was to draw Ludamban public figures into the orbit of the US government or US corporations - as if there was any difference between the two. It was expected, even obligatory, that an undersecretary such as he would attend these do's, ostensibly to represent the Interior Ministry to the neo-colonial powers that shaped the international world order, the harsh trade ecosystem in which his poor country struggled to survive. It was expected that one would become corrupted in the process, a little or a lot, even by his colleagues in the Ludamban Peace and Justice Party, which now formed the government. Koffi was resolved to keep his own corruption to a minimum. He knew to avoid the copious alcohol, the cocaine, the women, and the suitcases of cash, that the Americans made freely available to the weak-willed. But a few more lobster canapes would not compromise his soul too badly, he hoped.

"Koffi Ngwede, glad to see you here this evening."

"Mr. Gwinnett," he shook hands with the slimiest of the Americans. A true crocodile of a man.

"Please, call me Ryan."

"Ah, the famous American informality," Koffi smiled tightly.

"Well, if we're to be famous for something in the world, I suppose there are worse things than informality," Gwinnett chuckled.

"Oh, you Americans," he smiled, "are famous for many things. Hot dogs, baseball..." Coups and assassinations, he mentally added.

But at that point, a beautiful young woman sidled up to the two men. Ah, here comes the honeytrap, Koffi thought. This Gwinnett fellow moves fast; no subtlety at all.

"Koffi, allow me to introduce our daughter Bunny. She's visiting Sally and me for the summer. Just arrived a couple of days ago."

"Welcome to Lubanda, Ms. Gwinnett. I hope you do not find the heat too oppressive." Daughter? Yeah, sure: a CIA-trained call-girl, more likely. How do I brush her off without appearing rude? This one was a real stunner, though. Koffi had trouble taking his eyes off her, to be honest. Even though she was young enough to be his daughter, and then some.

"So far, I've been spending almost all of my time inside air-conditioned buildings," Bunny responded. "But I don't suppose most people here can afford air-conditioning. How do they handle it, I wonder?"

"To a certain extent, if one is born here, or lives here long enough, one becomes used to the heat. As a young man, I studied at London School of Economics, and I found the cold intolerable at first, though my British friends assured me that the weather was unseasonably warm," Koffi laughed. "But our cities and villages are built along rivers, Ms. Gwinnett. Back in the day, whenever the heat got bad, one could just take a dip and cool off. But then the foreign mining companies came, and the rivers became polluted."

An awkward silence followed.

"That's... so sad," Bunny said at last. "It's an outrage, really." Her apparent vehemence surprised him. Was it genuine?

"The price of progress," shrugged her father. "Those mining companies have substantially raised the GDP of your country. And built your roads. We've done a helluva lot more for you than the Portuguese ever did, that's for sure."

The Undersecretary of Mining could have answered Gwinnett, that the GDP increase had gone straight into the pockets of a few corrupt politicians, and done nothing to benefit the country as a whole. But there was no point in goading the crocodile.

"Couldn't the rivers be cleaned up?" Bunny asked.

Against his will, Koffi's eyes were again drawn to her loveliness - her light-brown, shoulder-length hair, her hazel eyes, her almond-shaped face, her slender but curvaceous body, a few centimeters shorter than him. Looking at Bunny and Ryan together, he could see enough resemblance - maybe -- to buy the idea that she really was the crocodile's daughter. But experience had hardened Gwinnett's features into a look of cagey malevolence, whereas Bunny was lovely as a sunrise. Looking at her, Koffi felt that old stirring in his loins, for perhaps the first time since his wife had died.

"That is the Interior Ministry's most fervent hope, Ms Gwinnett. But we are a poor country, and large-scale clean-up projects cost money. The only way to raise money, it seems, is to allow more mining. It is a dilemma."

"That's what I'm here for, Koffi my friend: to help you find ways out of your dilemmas," Gwinnett laughed. "I just need you to bring the mining royalties back down a few points. Then all kinds of possibilities open up. We should talk soon. You know how to reach me."

"Indeed." Over my dead body. "But... excuse me, I must be getting home," he yawned. "I'm not much of a night owl these days, I'm afraid. Good to see you again, Mr. Gwi -- Ryan. And I'm delighted to have met you, Bunny."

Unfortunately, the last sentence was all too true. He mentally berated himself on the ride home. Ordinarily, Koffi was not attracted to foreign women. His wife Marceline had been the only woman he looked at that way, ever since meeting her as an undergraduate. He still missed her terribly, felt lost without her... she had died five years previously, of a brain tumour. His sister was right: he should remarry. Remaining single like this left him vulnerable to temptations, like this American girl. A stupid temptation. Whether or not she was really Gwinnett's daughter.

There were plenty of Lubandan women who would be happy to marry him. Even much younger women: in Lubandan society, it was quite normal for a man in his position to take a wife twenty or even thirty years his junior. In the top rung of the civil service, with a generous, secure salary, a tidy savings, plus a pension upon retirement, and an impressive herd of cattle back in his home village - most Lubandan women would see him as quite the catch. His children - three sons and two daughters -- were grown up and out of the house. They would not be underfoot, getting in a new wife's hair. He was fifty-six, still in excellent health, still with all his hair, though it was mostly gray now. He didn't drink heavily, or smoke. His waistline was still reasonably trim, with just a slight grandfatherly potbelly. And as he was reminded tonight, his baby-maker was still in good working order. In fact, with thoughts of Bunny still going through his head, his erection hadn't subsided yet. He would have to take care of that when he got home. If he still remembered how.

* * *

"Oh Koffi, that's such an OUTRAGE," her father threw the words back at her mockingly. "Your task was to lightly banter with him, not reinforce his whacko environmentalist position. This new government is absolutely killing Tetratech on royalties for the minerals we need for our semiconductors. But you just undermined everything I was trying to get him to see."

"Look, I agreed to go to your parties. But if you turn me loose in a roomful of people, I'm going to say what comes into my mind. That's how I cultivate relationships, which is what you say you want me to do. Tip for sociopaths: that's how normal human beings interact with each other."

"So I'm a sociopath, is that it? Well, tip for people who want successful careers: use your fucking brain when you're talking to targets; you don't just vomit out the first thing that comes into your head."

"Ugh. Whatever."

To Bunny's mind. the contrast between her father and Koffi Ngwede could not have been starker. Ryan Gwinnett saw other people as targets. To him, Bunny was a mere tool, perhaps a weapon, to be used to get what he wanted. And if his only child got injured in his games of intrigue... no biggy, he'd find other tools.

But although she had only exchanged a few words with Koffi, he had made a strong impression on her. In fact, over the next few days, Bunny couldn't stop thinking about him. She kept showing up for the embassy soirees in hopes of running into him again.

There was just something so fuckin' dignified about Koffi Ngwede! Like one of those heroes of the African independence movement from the 1950's and 60's come to life. Last year at Stanford she had read Frantz Fanon and Césaire Aimé; she had studied about Kenyatta, Lumumba, Nkrumah, and Mandela. Now she had met a living exemplar of the distinguished, silver-haired African statesman. The way he cared about improving life for his people; he wasn't just out for himself - it stirred her, inspired her. She had been living a pretty self-centered life hitherto; but meeting Koffi gave her a glimpse of something nobler. Her university readings on anti-colonialism suddenly snapped into focus.

His square steel-rimmed glasses made him look professorial. The neat white beard against the dark skin of his face was strikingly handsome. He was not a tall man, maybe five foot six, an inch or so taller than her. But still, he carried an imposing aura. His eyes were intelligent but kind; his manner gentle.

Maybe he represented the protective father figure that she craved -- that her own father clearly was not. Her mother wasn't much help either: she was too passive, too self-medicated to pay any attention to her daughter. Koffi made her feel safe. He made her feel... something else, too. A thrilling tingle, a moistening in a certain anatomical region. She wasn't normally attracted to older men, and Koffi had to be in his late forties at least. But in the days following that first meeting, it dawned upon her that Koffi was HOT. She had a full-blown crush on him. Every day, Bunny prayed: Please God, let Koffi be at the embassy party again tonight. Please let me see him again.

Her father noted his daughter's regular attendance at the embassy do's, noted how she had settled well into the embassy's social structure. Bunny was being more cooperative than he had expected. Maybe she could be taught the tradecraft after all.

* * *

For a week and a half, Bunny's prayers went unanswered. Then, Friday night, her heart leapt to see him in a corner of the room, eating hors d'oeuvres and talking to the Nigerian ambassador. A local band was playing, and people were dancing. She knew nothing about African music, but it had a strong, exuberant beat, easy to follow. When the Nigerian turned away, Bunny pounced.

"Mr. Ngwede, there you are. I was hoping you could show me how to dance to this music."

"Ms. Gwinnett - Bunny, I'm delighted to see you again. This is not traditional Lubandan music; this is what we would call Afro-pop. So you don't need to know any traditional dance steps, one just... improvises."

"Please, Mr. Ngwede, Koffi," she gave him an imploring smile, "would you 'improvise' with me, just one dance?

Koffi inwardly sighed. He ought to keep away from this girl; she made him want to do things against his better judgement. And her aggressiveness in asking him to dance seemed distinctly honeytrappish. But it would be rude to refuse. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

At first, they danced at a distance from each other. Koffi moved with confidence, skill and energy, and Bunny tried to follow along. Fuck, he really is hot! Damn, her pussy was drooling. Bunny could not imagine a white guy Koffi's age, or any age, dancing half so well.

Meanwhile, Koffi tried not to stare at the bounce of Bunny's breasts, or the sway of her thick bottom.

The music changed to a slow dance. Bunny moved in closer, and Koffi did not pull away.

"Koffi... I need to tell you something," she whispered into his ear. "My father wants to use me as a honeytrap, to get to you. Or any other Lubandan officials he can manipulate. He's probably watching us right now. We shouldn't talk long."

"Why are you telling me this, Bunny?"

"Because I don't want to be used that way. Because you seem like a decent guy and I don't want to hurt you. Because my father is a piece of shit."

"I see. So he really is your father? I wondered if you were merely a... hired hand."

"I wish I had a different father, but no, it's true."

"In that case... I suppose we ought to stay far away from each other. That would be safer for both of us."

"No! I mean, then he'll just push me onto someone else... and he'll find other ways of getting at you. But if he knows we're seeing each other -- from time to time, I mean - I could pass on useless information, and he'd think --"

"He'd think you're cooperating with his plans, and that I'm falling for the honeytrap."

"Exactly!"

"Whereas, in fact, we'll know exactly what we're doing. We'll hoodwink the old crocodile."

"Yes! Crocodile: that's my father exactly."

"Bunny," he looked into her eyes, his heart pounding, "do we know what we're doing?"

"We'll figure it out. You're smart; I can tell. A lot smarter than him. We can start with meeting for dinner sometime soon. So we can really talk, somewhere my father and his minions won't be watching us."

"That's a marvellous idea." His cheek brushed against hers, making her shiver with pleasure.

The slow number was coming to an end. His hand moved lower on her back, almost to her ass. She pressed her body into his... and felt a surprising length of hardness against her lower belly. Bunny was no stranger to men and their hard-ons, but this was beyond all her experience. She could not help looking down at it. Her eyes confirmed what her belly had felt. Her distinguished African statesman was hung. And he was completely hard for her. She looked up into his eyes.

"Forgive me Bunny. I am mortified."

"Don't be. It's wonderful." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was grinning ear-to-ear. "Text me. Soon."

She slipped him a piece of paper with her cellphone number, then disappeared into the crowd.

Koffi turned towards the wall, thinking hard about polluted rivers and negative trade balances, till his erection went down.

An hour later, Bunny received a text, inviting her to a small restaurant in a poorer section of Ouasumzi, where foreigners rarely went. Tuesday at 19:00. "Don't bring your phone," he added.

* * *

A few nights later, Koffi and Bunny sat down to a generous platter of Jollof rice, with chicken and okra stew. The restaurant was not air-conditioned, but Bunny wore a very light cotton sun-dress. It was slightly cooler now that the night had fallen, with a breeze coming down from the mountains to the north of the city. There were a few other people in the restaurant, but Koffi and Bunny's table was apart from the others, giving them some privacy.

The food was deliciously spicy.

"Why didn't you want me to bring my phone?"

"They can be used by your father's intelligence people to listen in on our conversation."

"Ah, I didn't know that."

"We're playing a potentially dangerous game here, Bunny, and it pays to take precautions. What did you tell your father?" He sipped his beer.

"That you invited me out to dinner. I didn't mention where. That you seem to like me. I think he's pleased with my 'progress'."

"I do like you, Bunny. Very much. You're a remarkable young woman."

"Thank you. But I don't deserve your high opinion. You don't know much about me. "

"I know you've shown a lot of courage, being honest with me, refusing to go along with your father."

"I'm a spoiled, rich white American."

"And by local standards, I'm a spoiled rich African. I was born into privilege. My father had many cattle. I was able to get a higher education, here and overseas. Congratulations: we can both flagellate ourselves for being privileged. Does that help anybody? No. The question is what you do with your privilege."

"I've done nothing helpful, for anybody."

"Bunny... you're young, barely out of childhood. You're still in university, a mere undergraduate. Don't be so hard on yourself. I know you're going to do great things with your life."

She broke down, and began sobbing into her napkin. This was exactly the kind of caring and supportive thing that her parents had never said to her, but she so badly needed to hear.

"Thank you, Koffi," she sniffled.

"Hey, now. I didn't mean to make you cry." He moved over to her, enfolding her in his arms. She melted into his embrace. God, he felt so good. He smelled so good. She never wanted to let go of him. Then, in the dim light of the restaurant, she looked down and glimpsed it again, straining against the leg of his trousers. Discretely, she put her hand on it, feeling its heat. Its girth. He quietly groaned.

A stout, elderly woman burst out of the kitchen, eyes blazing.

"Dis man make you cry, child? I smack him good!"

They moved apart, but Bunny took his hand in hers, on the table.

"No, no. He just said something very kind, and it moved me. He's a good man. A very good man."

"Ah. OK den." The woman went back into the kitchen, looking vaguely disappointed.

"I like you too, Koffi. You've got integrity. You're sweet, and you're smart. Not to mention," she grinned, "devastatingly handsome."

"Ah, now you're just flattering this foolish old man," he laughed. "Are you sure you're not a honeytrap?"

"Oh I do hope my honey can trap you, Mr. Ngwede," she giggled. "But not in the interest of Tetratech."

"In whose interest then, Miss Gwinnett?"

"In the interest of... us? I'm still figuring this out, but... I want to help you, Koffi. If you'll have me. I want to be on your side. Whatever that looks like."

"I'd like that. Very much. We'll be a team, yes?" He thought for a moment. "Here's what we'll do. Next meeting, I'll give you a burner phone, untraceable to you, so we can communicate without your father or his people knowing what we're up to. Don't let anyone else know about it: use it only to contact me. As for your father, tell him we're getting to know each other, just light social stuff. Tell him I seem to be sexually interested in you, but I haven't put any moves on you yet. Nothing about the minerals royalty issue he cares about. We'll take it slow."

The cook re-emerged from the kitchen to check on things. Koffi still was holding her hand. They were looking at each other that way.

"You want room? Clean bed. Tousand francs by hour, or ten tousand for de night. Cheaper dan hotel."

Speaking Ki-banda, Koffi politely declined the woman's offer.

"Bunny, let me drive you home. I shouldn't keep you out too late on our first date."

* * *

"He didn't try to fuck you? Really? What kind of African man is he?!"

"That's an unnecessarily crass term for it," she shot back. She didn't bother responding to her father's racism. "But no, he didn't make any advances on me." Then she added, "I think he wants to, though." I hope he will, soon! she thought.

"Did he say anything about rare-earth minerals?"

"Do you actually think that's what people talk about on dates, father? We just made small talk, for fuck's sake."

"He wants to see you again?"

"Oh yes. He was clear about that."

"Well, next time, see if you can work it into the conversation. It's what his career is about, after all. Men in his position like to talk about their jobs to women, to brag about how important they are."

The next few dates took place in various restaurants and bars around the city. Bunny had her burner phone now. They called and texted on the Signal app, so their communications were secure. At their meetings, or on Signal, they got to know each other better. Bunny told Koffi about her messed-up childhood, about getting into Stanford, and her studies the last three years, majoring in history. Koffi told her about growing up in a small Lubandan village. About getting his PhD from LSE. About his life with Marceline, and his children and grandchildren. About his work in the Ministry of Interior. He explained the difficult economic situation his country was in. Bunny passed on bits of innocuous information to her father, in drips and drabs: hints of what Koffi might be thinking, just enough to keep Ryan Gwinnett on the hook, hoping for an eventual payoff.

From day to day, the sexual tension between them kept mounting. But by an unspoken understanding, the take-it-slow directive applied to their nascent relationship, as well as to the development of their plot against the "old crocodile." They held hands or kissed each other's cheek, but nothing more: no mouth-to-mouth kissing, no sexual touching, no sex talk. No more brushing her hand over Koffi's magnificent cock, even when it was rock-hard, and she could see the outline of it, and she yearned to take it out and worship it.

She and Koffi were figuring things out, thinking things through -- and it wouldn't help to lose their heads, plunging into the intoxicating delights of sexual intimacy before the plan had taken shape.

But in the meantime, Bunny did some internet research on how to prepare for taking a really big cock. Here in the middle of Africa, she couldn't just order a bunch of sex toys from Amazon; so she improvised with local materials. Coconut oil, readily available here, makes a good lube, she learned, as long as you're not using a latex condom. In the open-air market of Ouasumzi, she shopped for appropriately shaped squashes and gourds of varying sizes. The matronly women running the vegetable stands understood exactly what she was looking for, and cheerfully helped her out. She had free time in the mornings, and spent it getting herself off, thinking about Koffi and his cock, working her way up the vegetable-dildo hierarchy, stretching her vagina out, till she could take something that maybe approached Koffi's length and girth. She practiced deep-throating them too, as well as taking them in her ass. Be prepared, that was Bonny's motto.

Inwardly, Bunny was floating on air, happier than she ever remembered being. She had to work hard to maintain her old snarky, nihilistic persona around her parents, and the other embassy people. From time to time, she reflected on what her Stanford friends would think of her having an affair - or something even more serious - with an elderly African gentleman. She decided she didn't care. She'd had a number of boyfriends and more casual hookups already in her short life, but no other man had ever turned her on more, or made her feel happier inside, than Koffi did. No woman either, though she'd had a couple of them too. She had been with enough average-sized black men to know that the Big Black Cock, as a generalization, was a myth. Nevertheless, some men were exceptionally well endowed, and Koffi happened to be one of them. Yes, the age gap, and the culture gap, were major things she would have to navigate. But navigate them she would, for Koffi Ngwede's sake.

* * *

One night, when her father was out at a meeting, and her mother was, as usual, staring catatonically at one of her American TV shows, she went to his study and opened his personal laptop.

If her father was indeed a spy, he had become one post-Cold War, when the US no longer had any serious opponent in the world, and the espionage world had gone soft. Adept at surveilling and compromising other people, it seemed Gwinnett hadn't considered that anyone might turn the tables on him. His computer security was laughable: his master password was still "Raffles," the name of their old dog, gone these ten years - probably the only living creature her father had ever felt any affection for.

She poked around in his email correspondence. She found his porn stash - ick, some ugly simulated (?) rape shit there; she didn't want to think about that. Then she looked at his financial records. Aha, interesting. She copied them onto a USB drive. She was back in her room, texting Koffi about what she had found, by the time her father returned home.

Koffi laid the groundwork for their plan by contacting a number of foreign journalists that he trusted. The trap took shape in his mind, informed by what Bunny had told him. The story, when it came out, would have to get uptake outside of Lubanda, in the US and Europe.

* * *

"Can you get away for a few days, or even a week?" he texted her a few days later, about a month and a half after they had first met. "It's time, Bunny. I want you to see my apartment. I want to show you my home village. I want you to meet my children. And my darling, I want you in my bed, if you're ready for that."

"OMG, Koffi, I am SOOOOO ready!!!!" she immediately texted back. "I've been ready for a long time. And BTW you just made me drench my panties!"

She added, "I'm afraid your children will hate me. I'm just a snotty little white girl."

"Don't talk about yourself that way. I've told them about you. They will accept you; it will not be a problem. They know you make me happy."

"If you think you're happy now, just wait till I get my hands on that sexy body of yours, boo. Oh, by the way, I'm on birth control, and we're both disease-free, so no need for condoms."

Nonchalantly after dinner, she mentioned the proposed get-away to her father.

"Mnnh... I don't like the idea of you going off into some remote jungle area with him. We don't have any of our people out in the hinterland, if anything goes wrong. There isn't even cell phone coverage out there."

"Why, if I didn't know any better, father, I'd almost think you were concerned about my well-being."

"Ha-ha. Has he even told you what part of the country it's in?"

"It's somewhere in the southwest, I think. A few hours outside of Ouasumzi. He told me the name of the village, but I can't remember it now. I can tell you when I get back. But I think this is going to lead to, uh, the next stage in... cultivating a relationship with him. I think I can get him to open up about his work, finally. He seems less on his guard around me lately."

"Well, I'll be damned. So much for moral outrage. You're gonna let the old gorilla fuck you after all?"

"That's none of your business, father. You'll just have to wait and see if any useful information comes out of it."

"Damn, you really are a Gwinnett. Cold-blooded as fuck. I love it!"

* * *

Koffi advised her to pack light. Just toiletries and something cool to wear for the drive. The women of the village would want to give her appropriate local clothing when she arrived. The next afternoon, Koffi came by in a Range Rover to pick her up. They would spend the night at his apartment, then set off for the village in the morning.

As soon as they were inside the door, Bunny pulled off her T-shirt and shorts.

"You told me to pack light, boo, so I skipped the underwear."

Before the startled undersecretary even had a chance to register the fact of her nakedness - her full breasts, her dark triangle of pubic hair, her shapely hips, all right there in front of him -- she launched herself into his arms, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his hips, as her mouth found his.

Koffi and Marceline had had a very active sex life, over many, many years; but never had he kissed a woman with so much hunger before. Devouring Bunny's lips, her tongue... her tonsils if he could get at them, he staggered towards the bedroom, still holding her naked body, cupping her plump ass-cheeks in his hands, as she clung to him like a barnacle.

He set her down on the bed, and she sat up, quickly helping him out of his shirt and slacks.

"Can I see it, please, Koffi?" she begged. "I've been waiting like a good girl for over a month now... please!"

Grinning, he dropped his boxers, and out it sprang. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. His cock was nearly as long as her forearm. Circumcised, stiff as a post, sticking straight out in front of him, with a slight leftward curve. She had underestimated: he was bigger, by a few inches, than the biggest of her squashes. His balls were like two large ripe avocados. Aside from a cute little manly beer-belly, he was trim and muscular, perfectly proportioned, his skin like dark chocolate all over, except for his pinkish-brown palms and the head of his cock. Bunny's pussy was leaking like a busted faucet.

With a squee of delight, the young woman flew off the bed, dropping to her knees in front of him. Taking his stout flesh-pole in her hands, kissing it, nuzzling it with her face, licking it, taking the big pink mushroom head in her mouth, tasting the pre-cum that dribbled from the tip, she then slobbered her mouth up and down the length of it. She moved down to his avocados, sucking them into her mouth, one after the other.

"Bunny... you are a sorceress!" he gasped.

"No, I'm a sword-swallower," she giggled. Angling her head just right, she guided the tip into her mouth, then pressed forward, taking it deeper inside, breathing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, blowing warm air around his cock. "Mmmmm..." she began humming. Her gourd practice paid off now, as she swallowed, taking him into her esophagus, gazing up at him adoringly with those hazel eyes. Then she backed off to catch her breath.

"Bunny, never have I --"

"But you will now," she cut him off. "You're mine now, boo, and you're gonna shoot that man-milk into my stomach. I want it, every drop of it!"

She moved forward again, taking him in deeper, resuming her humming, swallowing him into her gullet; but now she kept going, till her lips encircled the very base of his cock.

"You are Oshun! You are a goddess!" he cried. She bobbed her head up and down on his cock a few times. Then the orgasm overtook him, and, bellowing like a bull, he gave her his cream, just as she had demanded, in spurt after spurt.

Koffi collapsed onto the bed, and Bunny pounced on him, showering his face, his chest, his belly with kisses, licking his nipples. He removed his glasses and put them on the night table.

"You will be the death of this old man," he panted, grinning from ear to ear. "You will give me a heart attack, my darling."

She froze. "Do you have a heart condition? I'm so sorry, I can be much gentler."

"No, no. I'm just speaking rhetorically," he chuckled. "Sorry to frighten you. My heart has never been better. That was amazing, Bunny!" He turned to her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply, and she responded, melting into her lover's body, rolling on top of him. As they kissed some more, his hands roamed over her shoulders and back, then they moved down to her ass, which he gently kneaded, till she was moaning into his mouth.

"Let me love those beautiful titties now."

She rolled off him, onto her back, and he took her ample breasts in his hands, kneading them they way he had just done with her ass-cheeks. Then he began kissing them.

"Suck them, Koffi, please!"

"So lovely," he murmured. Marceline had been a heavy-set woman, with breasts even bigger than Bunny's. He had loved Marceline's curves, her heft. But Bunny was much slimmer, so proportionally her breasts seemed larger. He loved that too. Her nipples were thick and puffy, coral-pink against the pale skin of her breasts. Stunning. He took a stiff nipple in his mouth and sucked hungrily for a while, while she mewled and moaned, cradling his head in her arms like a baby. He switched to the other breast, while his strong hands kept up the kneading. Going back and forth between her breasts.

"I... I think I could come like this. Just from you sucking on my tits. I'm really close, boo."

"No! Bunny, I want to taste you now," he growled. "I want you to come on my tongue."

He scrambled down between her thighs and began kissing and nuzzling her hairy mound, savouring the womanly smell of her. Then he moved lower. His mouth opened and she felt his tongue gently gliding over her labia, parting them, slurping up her juices, penetrating her honeypot.

"FUCK! Amadooouuu... oh my Godddd!" she wailed. "I'm CUMMIIIINNNNNG!"

Writhing and mashing her blossoming pussy into his face, keening, she erupted in a spray of hot female ejaculate.

"Bunny, you are so beautiful. I knew that already, but seeing you come like that... tasting you... making you gush like that... it's a whole level of beauty beyond... I had no idea... I need to see that again."

He resumed his pussy-kissing and licking, gently at first, then more hungrily, lapping at her stiff little clitoris, sucking it into his mouth. Again, she began to climb the hill of pleasure, bucking and writhing against his mouth, whimpering, grunting and gasping. The sight of his ebony face and shoulders between her ivory thighs took her breath away. Then she felt him trying to press a finger into her anus, but it was too dry.

"Mmm. Wait a second, Koffi."

"Sorry, do you not want that? Marceline used to --"

"I do want your finger there. I love that. But let me get my coconut oil."

"Ah. Yes. Lubrication, good idea. You'd make a good engineer."

She retrieved the jar from her backpack and handed it to him.

"Lube up your finger, then put it in me."

This time, his finger slid into her anus easily, penetrating all the way to the base. She gasped as he resumed eating her pussy, now with the added stimulation of his thick finger moving in and out of her asshole. Soon, she was on the verge again.

"Put another finger in my ass. Oh YES!"

Again, she gushed her fresh, sweet feminine fluid into his mouth, and he slurped down most of it, but still his chin and cheeks were dripping. He withdrew his finger from her ass and lay back in bed. She moved on top of him again, licking her juice from his face, then kissing him on the mouth.

* * *

"Bunny, let's talk. About us."

"OK..."

"You made me very happy just now. But this is not just my baby-maker talking, you understand? I've thought a lot about this. Bunny... I love you. My feelings for you are serious, and strong. I didn't think this could happen to me again after I lost Marceline. At my age. And with such a beautiful young woman, from the other side of the world. It's highly improbable, but... here I am, feeling like the luckiest man on earth. I don't think I could bear to give you up. What are your feelings?"

She snuggled into his arms, laying her head on his chest, taking his flaccid cock in her hand and lazily caressing it. Even in its softened state, its size was impressive.

"I love you too, Koffi. I think I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. I want to learn about your world, your culture. As for the age difference, I love your maturity: I feel there's so much I can learn from you. You make me feel safe, and loved. Maybe I've got father issues... with my family background, how could I not? But so what? You're good for me. I'm the lucky one. I know I want to be with you, for the long haul. I want to keep enjoying that sexy body of yours. And your beautiful mind. I want to make you happy. I don't have to go back in September. I could put off finishing university."

"Or I could take a leave of absence from my post, and live with you in California, till you graduate."

"Wow, you'd do that for me?"

"I am an old-fashioned man in some ways, darling; but Marceline taught me that a partnership must be fifty-fifty. But before we make long-term plans, we must lure the crocodile into our trap."

It would have been nice to keep lying there, snuggling together, or to go for another round of sex. But it was past dinner-time by now, and Koffi and Bunny were getting hungry. They got up and went to the kitchen, not bothering to put on clothes, though Koffi put his glasses back on. He cooked American-style hamburgers with potato salad for dinner, wanting to make Bunny feel at home. (She had come to prefer spicy Lubandan cuisine by that point, but she could explain that to him some other time.) He ate more slowly than she did, and as he was finishing his meal, she dropped to her knees in front of his chair, and began kissing his cock.

"Girl, you'll be the death of me," he laughed. "Again, not literally, just as a figure of speech. How am I to finish my dinner if you carry on like this?"

"I want my dessert," she replied. "I want some more of your man-milk."

"No. Bunny, I am an old man; I can't come ten times in one night like when I was in my twenties. I need to conserve my resources. When I said I want you in my bed, I meant I want to make love to you - properly, with my baby-maker in your pussy."

"That could be arranged," she smiled up at him.

"Then let me finish dinner, girl."

"Just let me kiss it then. I won't suck you off again. You can eat while I do that, can't you, boo?"

He resumed his meal, and she resumed kissing, nuzzling and stroking his cock. By the time he finished, Bunny had gotten him fully hard again.

"There, see? Perfect timing," she smiled. "Your baby-maker, as you call it, is ready for action. Let's introduce it to my honeypot." She led him back to bed. "I'm pretty wet right now, but I've never taken anything this big inside me before. Let me put some coconut oil on your cock, to get you nice and lubricated."

"Ay, that feels TOO good! Careful, or the snake may spit already."

She slowed down her stroking, applying the oil liberally to his cock, all the way to its base.

"There, now you put a big glob of it inside my vagina." She sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide. "Mmmm, yesss! That's it. Give me three fingers now, smear it around in me. Fuck yeah! Mmm, kiss me some more. Mmm, Koffi, you are the best kisser ever! OK, I'm ready for you now."

"How do you want to do this?" he asked.

"To start off, let me be on top. That way I can control the depth, while I get used to you."

He lay back. His cock, sticking straight up, was too tall for her to straddle him on her knees. So she started off standing, then carefully lowered herself to a squat, as she guided the head of his cock between her labia. Wiggling her hips, she lowered herself further, to one knee, taking several inches of his thick love muscle inside her body.

"I forgot how good it feels to be inside a woman I love."

"I've been with a lot of guys, and a few women, but I've never really been in love with anyone before, Koffi. And I've never had such a magnificent cock inside me. You're barely in, but you're SO THICK: already it's blowing my mind, boo!"

She lowered the other knee, as a few more inches slipped inside her. She was now kneeling over him, rotating her hips. Coconut oil, mixed with her pussy honey, ran down over his cock.

"My God, Bunny, you feel so good! So tight and warm around me."

"Ungh, unghhhhh, ahhhhh..." She let her pelvis sink steadily down, inch by inch, still wiggling it around him.

"Smack my ass, boo. Please?"

He did. She sank down another couple of inches.

"Harder!"

He did. Another couple of inches went in.

"Fuck... you're stretching me out so good, boo. Omigod, here I go..." She sank down the final few inches, impaling herself on his mighty pole; he was now balls-deep inside her. She leaned forward and they resumed kissing.

Then he leaned forward, sucking her breasts, as she wiggled her ass up and down and around on his cock. Her eyes were shut, her face scrunched up.

"Am I hurting you, darling?"

She shook her head. "I had no fuckin' idea making love could feel this good. The fullness... oh my God, you're stretching my pussy... it's mind-blowing. I'm feeling pleasure sensations I didn't know were possible, boo. I'm yours now."

He gripped her ass tightly, sucking on her tits, and began thrusting up with his hips, jack-hammering into her, fast and furious, claiming her body. He was in her more deeply than any man had ever penetrated - deep in her heart. Wailing, keening, roaring... she CAME!

She collapsed forward, catching her breath, as he kissed her face, her ears, her hair.

"You didn't come too?" she sighed disappointedly, once she caught her breath.

"I'm not done yet," he growled. "And neither are you. I'm going to make that sweet pussy come again on my baby-maker, and then I'm going to come inside you. But... can we try a different position?"

"Absolutely: any way you want me, boo, now that we know my pussy can take all of you."

"I like giving it to a woman from behind. Like I said, I'm an old-fashioned Lubandan man."

"You got it, boo. I'd love to be on the receiving end of that. Especially if you could finger my ass a little while you're pounding me."

He chuckled happily.

Carefully, they turned onto their sides so she could dismount from his still-hard cock. He got up. She turned over, kneeling with her ass up near the edge of the bed, head buried in a pillow.

"I practiced, you know, to get ready for this. I used gourds and squashes to stretch myself for you."

"Ah, so that's how you got used to me so quickly. I was wondering. With Marceline, it was two weeks before she could take all of me. But now." he chuckled, "you can throw out all those vegetables. I'm going to be the one filling you up, from now on."

She gasped as the head of his cock parted her labia, then plunged smoothly inside her, like a hot knife into butter.

"Oh my God, boo... so GOOD!"

"I love your ass, Bunny. So pretty. You're not a heavy woman, but you have a perfect, chubby ass."

He dipped his middle finger in Bunny's coconut oil again, and slipped it deep in her anus.

"Such a sexy little asshole. I'm going to love kissing it."

Then he began to give it to her, hard - his huge cock plowing into her, as his finger played in her anus. With his other hand, he gave her left buttock a stinging slap.

"FUCK YES!" she screamed. "Again... please, boo?"

He smacked her again, several more times. He was pounding into her even harder now.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she keened.

Her orgasm pulled him over the edge too. Grunting fiercely, he shuddered as the climax crashed over him, his testicles tightening, his cock twitching as a strong spurt of hot semen hit her cervix. Then another spurt, and another, until at last his hardness broke.

Her legs were still trembling uncontrollably. Planting a lingering kiss on the back of her neck, he slowly pulled his tenderized meat out of her, followed by a big gush of his semen, that ran down the inside of her leg. Gently, he caught her up in his arms, and she turned to kiss him, as he carried her to the shower. His apartment was air-conditioned, but still they had worked up a sweat, not to mention other bodily fluids. After the shower, they changed the sheets and crawled into bed.

* * *

They left at seven the next morning, after a night of blissful sleep in each other's arms, their first night together. Contrary to what she had told her father, Koffi's village was two hundred fifty kilometers to the northeast of the capital, in the department of Labomo. The Range Rover made good time on the first hundred fifty kilometers, but then they left the paved road, and it was slow going on rough dirt roads leading into the Mbere mountains. At last they reached the village of Kaountcha around 13:00.

As they pulled into the courtyard of the village school, which also served as the community center, the Ranger Rover was surrounded by a throng of exuberant relatives, each wanting to be the first to greet their illustrious kinsman Koffi. Bunny had learned a few words and phrases of Ki-banda by then, but they spoke a completely different language in Kaountcha, called Ki-ndeu, so she was lost. Only a couple of the villagers, aside from Koffi, spoke even a smattering of English.

Nevertheless, the women of the village greeted Bunny warmly, five or six of them dragging her off to a separate building. As Koffi had predicted, they wanted to dress Bunny up in proper clothing, not the American-style shorts she was wearing, that scandalously exposed her legs. (Though shorts, with a T-shirt or bare-chested, were perfectly fine for a man, as an alternative to the traditional kilt.) Proper apparel for a woman in Kaountcha was simply a large square of brightly printed cotton cloth, wrapped around her body. The women showed her how to tuck the corner securely under her armpit to keep it together, covering her from her breasts down to mid-calf. The cloth felt cool and breathable, especially with no underwear. It helped that they were in the mountains, now, and the temperature was not as hot as in the capital city. She couldn't understand the women's words, but she could sense their radiant approval, in their facial expressions and affectionate gestures.

Then she was reunited with Koffi - he did a double-take, eyeing her hungrily in her new wrap-dress -- and then everyone sat down together for the mid-day meal. A few questions, about where she came from and how many cattle her father owned, were directed at Bunny, with Koffi serving as amused translator. But mostly their attention was on him, their golden boy. For nearly two hours, the whole village sat there over the meal, as speeches were made and stories were told. Periodically everyone, including Koffi, erupted into raucous laughter - and Bunny understood none of it.

But at last, as the afternoon drew on, the gathering dispersed. Koffi took her hand and led her down a path away from the school and the main cluster of round thatched houses.

* * *

"That must have been really boring for you. Thanks for your patience. Most of what was said was inconsequential, and impossible to translate anyway... references that are only meaningful to people who live here or grew up here. The gist of it was just that they're happy to see me. And they're happy to meet my, um... my new woman."

He hesitated. "Look, this area is not very Christianized. The idea of a church wedding is kind of foreign to us. Here, a boy just discusses his intentions with a girl's parents, and if the girl agrees, they start living together. So when I told them you're my woman, it's really the same as saying we're married. Is that OK, or do I need to set the record straight?"

"I am your woman now, Koffi," she beamed. "And you're my man. No need to set anything straight. The Christian ceremonies are something we can think about, post-crocodile."

He grinned broadly. "In that case, your man wants to tell you, you look like the goddess Oshun herself, at her most radiant, in that kzumu you're wearing. It does something powerful to me to see you dressed like that."

"Why thank you, boo. And is that a giant gourd you're carrying around inside your shorts?" she smirked.

"You'll see my gourd again soon enough, girl."

They continued down the path.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Down to the river. In this part of the country, our water is still pretty clean. I want you to see it. The river is Oshun's domain. We can bathe and cool off before bed. I want every river in Ludamba to be this clean again."

"I don't have a swim suit."

"You don't need one here," he laughed.

"Do you really believe in this Oshun goddess, boo? You keep mentioning her."

He shrugged. "I believe she is a metaphor. But metaphors can be powerful. She is the force of love and regeneration. She is the force of female sexuality. She is the force of the river. I love this metaphor."

"Then I love her too."

As they reached the river bank, Koffi stripped down. Sporting a whopping hard-on, he scampered onto a rock and then jumped into a deep pool in the river, just like an eight-year-old boy. Then he turned back to her.

"Are you going to stand there all day, girl, or are you coming in with me? Let Oshun embrace you."

She unwrapped her kzumu, folded it neatly, and put it beside Koffi's clothes. Then she climbed naked onto the rock, and jumped into the cool, refreshing water, swimming to his side.

"Jump into my arms, darling. That's it, wrap your legs around me. I've been missing your sweet pussy all day. And seeing you in that kzumu made me want to... um, to do this."

He guided his hard cock inside her.

"That's right, sink down on me, girl. All the way. Yes, good girl!"

"Oh fuck, Koffi, it's even better than last night!"

He began bouncing her on his cock, up and down, vigorously, while his hands kneaded and groped her ass. She would have shrieked as the orgasm hit her, except that Koffi's open mouth was glued to hers, muffling the sound. Then her mouth, in turn, muffled his grunts of excitement, as he once again blasted her cervix with his come.

"I love you, Bunny," he murmured tenderly. "Thank you for coming here with me. It means a lot to me."

She kissed his chest and shoulders. "Love you too, boo. I loved seeing you jump into the river. I could picture you as a young boy. But I bet your baby-maker wasn't so big, back then."

* * *

Koffi's house was a simple, one-room round hut, just like all the others in the village. It had a double bed, which is what Bunny was waiting for. She flopped down on it immediately.

"I want some more of the baby-maker," she said cheerfully.

But someone else had entered the house. It was a stout elderly woman, holding a pot of something steaming.

"Um, Bunny, this is my sister Seuda."

She got up and held out her hand to the woman, who didn't seem to understand that they were supposed to shake hands.

"Nguda nayit," Seuda said, nodding and smiling, setting down her pot on the table.

"She's saying 'good night'." Koffi explained. "Her English pronunciation could use a little work."

"Ah. Good night, Seuda," Bunny replied. She turned to Koffi. "Do you not shake hands here?"

"Well, actually," he blushed, "the socially appropriate thing would be for you to kiss her feet." (Yes, despite his very dark skin, Bunny could detect the blush.) "Since our mother is no longer living, she's the head of our extended family. As my new woman, it would be polite for you to show respect to the family."

Bunny knelt down and kissed the tops of Seuda's feet. The old woman smiled even more broadly, drawing Bunny up and hugging her warmly, while chattering away a mile a minute.

"Seuda approves of you," Koffi beamed. "Thanks for doing that. I approve of you too, by the way."

"I thought it was the men that were the head of the family, in this country."

"It varies from group to group. Lubanda is quite an ethnically diverse country. But here, the men own the cattle, which is how wealth is reckoned. But women control absolutely everything else."

"Can you tell her that I'm grateful to be here, and I'm honored to be part of the family."

"I said all that already, at the feast earlier. I assumed you would want me to handle the social niceties on your behalf."

"Well, then tell her I look forward to learning Ki-ndeu some day soon, so that we can talk to each other, like an older and younger sister."

Koffi translated this, and Seuda hugged her again, beaming and nodding.

"What's in the pot?"

"That's millet porridge, for our evening meal."

"How do you say 'thank you' in Ki-ndeu."

Koffi told her, and Bunny repeated it. But the brother and sister burst into laughter.

"What?"

"You just said the word for bird-shit, darling. You got the tones wrong. But it's OK, she knows what you were trying to say."

After Seuda left, and they had their porridge, Bunny asked where the latrine was: she had to poop. Koffi showed her the outhouse, a hundred meters or so away. There was no toilet paper. Koffi explained how to wash oneself, with soap and a large bucket of water and a gourd dipper that were kept there. Bunny found she enjoyed the extra-clean bum feeling afterwards. She remembered that the toilet in Koffi's apartment had a bidet, but she hadn't thought to use it. Next time she would.

* * *

When she returned to the hut, she found Koffi had removed his clothes already, and was lying back on the bed.

Grinning, she doffed her kzumu and joined him.

"As I was saying, I want some more of your baby-maker." She began stroking and kissing it. "Or did I wear you out at the river? Do you need to conserve your resources?"

"You know, being around you," he grinned, "I begin to feel like a younger man again, darling. It seems I have plenty of resources."

"So I see," she giggled. His cock was fully hard already. "Koffi?"

"Yes?"

"Um, there's something I'd really like, that we haven't done yet; but I'm a little embarrassed to ask for it."

"Please tell me. You don't have to be embarrassed about anything with me."

"OK. Um, I want your baby-maker in my ass. Since I just pooped, there's no risk of a mess. And my pussy's a bit sore right now. But also, I really like anal sex."

"There, see," he grinned, "that wasn't so difficult. I'd be delighted. Marceline and I enjoyed anal love-making regularly, especially when she had her monthlies."

Bunny got her jar of coconut oil and applied it liberally to Koffi's cock.

"OK, boo, you know the drill. Lube me up, pack my ass with it, the more the better." She rolled onto her stomach and reached back, spreading her bum-cheeks apart, laying bare her anus.

"Hang on a minute. I want to enjoy your beautiful little asshole a bit first."

He began kissing it. Then licking it. Bunny had had anal sex with guys before - and once with a woman. But nobody had ever wanted to eat her ass before.

"This feels so delicious, boo, in a very naughty sort of way. God, you're making me shiver!"

He paused to cover her bum-cheeks in hot kisses, giving her gentle love-bites.

"Mmmm, I LOVE your ass, darling," he growled.

Then he resumed licking hungrily at her anus. She had assumed he would do a few light kisses and licks back there and that would be it, but he kept going. And going. Like he was worshipping her ass now, not just licking but sucking on her asshole, with loud suction pops. Then he pressed his tongue firmly against her sphincter, and she opened to him; his tongue plunged inside.

"Oh my God, boo! What are doing to me?! This feels so different... but I love it. Ohhh, don't stop!"

As his tongue moved in her bowels, she felt deeply loved, physically cherished. She felt intense anal pleasure she had never known before, that was quickly bringing her to the verge of coming. She reached underneath herself and began frantically rubbing her tingling clit.

"Oh yeah! Ohhh, here it comes... my ASS is coming on your TONGUE... oh FUUUUCKKKK!"

She drenched her fingers with her own juice.

"Heh-heh, I loved that, Bunny. I'm going to eat your sweet ass like that every night, from now on."

"I won't say no to that," she grinned.

"But now, my baby-maker wants to get in there. Looks like I got you nicely opened up and ready, heh-heh."

She lay on her stomach, holding her cheeks apart, as he knelt astride her thighs. Then he began packing coconut oil into her anus with his fingers.

"That should be enough. God, I'm so ready for you, boo! C'mon, give it to me! Uunnghhhh! Fuck yesss!"

"I'm not hurting you?" The head of his cock was through her sphincter now, but there was most of his length to go yet.

"Hoo! It hurts a little, but it hurts good! Give me a minute." She took several deep breaths. "OK... give me some more now.

Slowly, slowly, as she gasped and shuddered, his thick tool sank into her, filling her rectum.

"That's it, darling. I'm in all the way."

"Hold me, boo. Hold me tight. My ass is yours now. All of me is yours."

He withdrew ten centimeters or so, then forcefully slid it home again.

"FUCK, boo!"

"Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "It's the best fuckin' feeling in the universe."

He began pistoning in her. She was tight, but with all that lube inside her, she was delightfully slippery, and he could move in her easily. She reached underneath herself again, to play with her clit. He picked up the pace now, thrusting harder.

"Oh yeah! Unnnghhh!" she came loudly. He slowed down for a while, but continued pistoning in her. Then he resumed fucking her forcefully, churning her ass. In this manner, he brought her to orgasm two more times.

"Boo, I need... to conserve... my resources," she panted.

He guffawed. "You want me to stop?"

"No! I want you to fill my ass with your hot cum. Then you can stop."

"That can be arranged," he chuckled.

Keeping his cock buried inside her, he raised her up on her knees, as he knelt behind her. Whap, whap, whap... his loins smacked hard into her thick ass, making it bounce and ripple.

"Are you close, boo?"

"Mmmm, so close, darling!"

"Me too. Come with me boo, give it to me! OH FUCK YEAH!!!"

He hissed and grunted. She felt his cock twitching and jumping inside her, then felt a torrent of hot nut-milk shooting into her guts, flooding her, as he groaned his pleasure in her ear.

Koffi kissed and held her for several minutes, keeping his softening cock in her ass. At last he withdrew, with an outpouring of his semen running down her legs.

Tenderly, he cleaned her off with his T-shirt, and mopped up the puddle of cum on the bed as best he could. Within a few minutes, both were sound asleep.

* * *

Bunny's bottom was sore the next morning, but in a very good way.

Around noon, Koffi's children arrived. Well, most of them. His oldest son was on a business trip in Johannesburg, and his younger daughter stayed home to care for her mother-in-law, who was recovering from a stroke. There were five grandchildren along, ages two to eleven - Bunny couldn't remember which child was whose.

They all lived in Ouasumzi, and regularly visited their father for Sunday dinner. These larger family reunions in Kaountcha happened only two or three times a year. It was an occasion for the men to inspect the herds, and discuss cattle management practices, while the women worked together in the yam, millet and vegetable plots, and everyone renewed family ties. Koffi's children were polite toward Bonny, and respectful to their father. But there wasn't the same warmth she had felt from Seuda. Mostly they spoke Ki-banda, only occasionally switching into English, at Koffi's insistence, to include her in the conversation.

Bunny could understand their aloofness; she didn't take it personally. They had history together that she was still an outsider to. She could never replace their mother, Marceline. The love that was growing between Koffi and her, the thrilling sexual intimacy they now shared, meant nothing to his children: how could it? It would be on her shoulders - with help from Koffi of course - to gradually build her own relationships with them; but that would take time.

Nevertheless, it warmed her heart to see Koffi playing so happily with his grandchildren. Bunny had never thought much about being a mother before. But now the idea began to grow on her: how lovely it would be to give Koffi another child, in his golden years. A child for her to love and care for, a piece of Koffi that she could hold on to after... well, obviously, given the age gap between them... painful as it was to think about that.

Three more days were spent in Kaountcha, feasting together, harvesting yams, smiling a lot at the other women since she couldn't talk with them. There was drumming, singing and dancing - the real traditional music, not Afro-pop. She tried to join in the women's dancing, and her efforts were well received, even if her steps were a bit clumsy.

And she spent time with Koffi, in and out of bed, starting to feel like they were a real couple. She was walking a bit bowlegged from all the fucking Koffi was giving her, several times a day, vaginal and anal, but the orgasms were definitely worth a little soreness. The thought of having to go back to her parents' villa was distinctly depressing. At least she'd have another day with Koffi at his apartment before her father would expect her return.

* * *

"So, what have you got for me? Was it productive?" Ryan Gwinnett didn't bother with any words of welcome for his daughter, after her week away.

"Well, it's not going to be what you want to hear, father. On the mining royalties, Koffi says his hands are tied. The new government is committed to the current rate schedule. He doesn't have authority to contravene it."

"That's not an acceptable answer. He could use his expertise to persuade the elected officials that they HAVE to lower the rates. And it seems you're on a first-name basis with him now. How touching."

"Oh, that's just my American informality, father. But he says he's willing to meet with you: I accomplished that much for you, at least. He says he's got some kind of alternative proposal he wants to make."

"About what, exactly?"

"I don't know, father! I'm not a mining engineer, or an economist. I'm sure I wouldn't understand even if he did explain it to me."

"Well, I'll give him a listen. He knows where my office is."

"He wants to meet you on neutral territory, he says. Just a tête-à-tête with you. No other Americans or Lubandans around." She gave him the address and time.

* * *

"Mr. Gwinnett, how gracious of you to meet me here." They were at the same restaurant Koffi had taken Bunny to on their first date.

"This is a real hole in the wall, but I thought I'd humor you. I heard you've got some kind of proposal, but I'm not really interested in anything but the royalties coming down. Look, Koffi, on these mining royalties, I don't think you understand. You really don't have a choice in the matter."

Gwinnett pulled a folder out of his briefcase and tossed it onto the table. Koffi opened it and examined the contents, pictures of him and Bunny on their various dates, at restaurants, cafés and bars around Ouasumzi, holding hands, kissing each other on the cheek, smiling at each other. Of course the Americans had been surveilling him; he had expected it. It was almost comical, that with all the sex he and Bunny had been having, Gwinnett only had these innocent pictures to confront him with.

"It would be a terrible shame if your family, or your colleagues in the government, were to see you've been carrying on like this with an American, so much younger than you, so close to Tetratech. Shockingly unprofessional. I'd venture to say your career would be finished."

Koffi felt a wave of nausea, not that he was worried about exposure; just a feeling of disgust, that this man could use his own daughter so vilely.

"I'm afraid I don't see the relevance of these pictures, Mr. Gwinnett."

"Really? You want to play it that way? You surprise me, Koffi... Mr. Ngwede if you prefer. I'm sorry it comes to this. But I think you know what can happen to individuals in your sort of position who refuse to cooperate with the kind of interests I represent."

"I'm fully aware, Mr. Gwinnett, that you could call your 'wet-job' crew and have me assassinated before nightfall. You could make me vanish without a trace, or make it look like an accident."

"Well, you seem pretty cool about the prospect, I must say."

"Yes, because I know you won't do that. It's not in your interest, Mr. Gwinnett."

"Ah, here comes the alternative proposal. OK, I'm listening. I'll give you two minutes."

"You know that in the past, significant amounts of money have gone into the Lubandan treasury, and then mysteriously evaporated. The accounting system was deliberately set up to allow this, under previous governments. This is how public funds ended up in the pockets of corrupt officials."

"I don't see what that has to do --"

"Bear with me, Mr. Gwinnett. What if the corrupt official, so to speak, was you? Forget US interest; forget Tetratech. I could arrange it so that a portion of our rare-earth minerals are sold to a holding company that is owned solely by you. You know the price of these minerals is rising. That holding company in turn, could sell the minerals on to Tetratech at a substantial profit. Of course, with a nested structure - anonymous holding companies within holding companies, like layers of an onion - so that the actual ownership of the company doing these deals can't possibly be traced to you. The money simply ends up in an anonymous Swiss bank account, which you can draw on at your convenience. If anyone else in Tetratech inquires into the arrangement, it will look like a typical corrupt Lubandan politician is behind it, a mere cost of doing business."

"Now look here you piece of African shit, you think you can buy me off, for a few million of your worthless francs --"

"No, of course not. I'm talking BILLIONS... of US DOLLARS, Mr. Gwinnett. And of course, I'm making the same arrangement for myself. I must see to my comfortable retirement. Why shouldn't you do likewise? And perhaps it's the case, just speaking hypothetically, of course, that your financial position isn't very strong at the moment. Perhaps your investments have not panned out as you had hoped. Indeed, perhaps they've completely tanked. Perhaps you've been siphoning off funds from the 'Company' you work for - and I don't mean Tetratech - to keep yourself afloat. But those borrowings of yours are certainly traceable: it's just a matter of time till the auditors notice, and you're called to pay the piper. Your career will be over. You may forfeit your pension. You might even go to jail. Whereas the arrangement I'm proposing is completely untraceable. Your financial headaches will go away, Mr. Gwinnett. In fact, you'll be farting through silk."

"How the fuck did you --"

"It really doesn't matter how I know, does it? You can assume I don't know anything at all about your finances. I'm certainly not going to tell anyone if I do. The US government accountants will find out all on their own, sooner or later. Probably sooner."

Gwinnett exhaled. "OK, I'll bite: let's say I go for this deal."

"Uh-uh-uh, I haven't quite finished presenting it, Mr. Gwinnett. There's a further condition. You may call it a vanity project of mine, but I have my heart set on cleaner rivers for Lubanda." Koffi pulled out a thick spiral-bound document from his briefcase. "This is a set of environmental standards that will be met in any future Tetratech-affiliated mining developments in this country. Compared to the vast amount of mineral wealth Tetratech is extracting from this country, the cost of compliance is a pittance. And this..." he pulled out another thick document, "is a schedule of river clean-up projects. Again, a pittance. I expect you to obtain Tetratech's agreement to these documents. You are, after all, Tetratech's man in Lubanda, so you have the authority. And it will be paid for by Tetratech, not you: no skin off your ass, as you Americans say. You'll be comfortably retired, at a Tuscan villa, let's say. You'll be so rich you can afford to keep a different mistress for each day of the month if you like."

"There's no fuckin' way --"

"Mr. Gwinnett, I don't think you understand," Koffi smiled sweetly. "You really don't have a choice in the matter."

Gwinnett said nothing.

"I expect Tetratech's formal acceptance of these proposals by the end of the week, delivered to the Interior Ministry, or the deal's off. It will take a few weeks for me to set up all the other arrangements. I'll get you the Swiss bank account number by the end of the month. The first billion dollars should be in it by then, with an additional billion every quarter, for the next four years. Can I hear an amen, Mr. Gwinnett?"

"Fuck... OK, Amen."

"One more thing, Mr. Gwinnett. Bunny's not returning to your house. In fact, she never wants to see you again. After the despicable way you've treated her, I don't blame her. Bunny has agreed to marry me, I'm delighted to say. It's ironic... technically, you're going to be my father-in-law. Though you're not invited to the wedding."

"That fuckin' BITCH!!!" Gwinnett was rendered speechless for a moment. "Good God! You turned my own fuckin' daughter against me. Of all the fuckin' ingratitude! Well, you can tell her she's not gonna see a penny of my money, EVER!"

"She wouldn't take your filthy money, you loathsome CROCODILE. Fortunately, I have sufficient means to care for her."

At that point, the cook emerged from the kitchen, raring to restore order to her establishment by giving the shouting, snarling white man a good smackdown. But Koffi motioned for her to calm down and go back to her cooking.

"I hope, someday, for her own sake, Bunny will be able to forgive you, Mr. Gwinnett. You could help with that healing process... but I doubt you will." Koffi rose from the table. "I'll keep these pictures, if I may. We might want to use them for the wedding announcement."

* * *

The environmental standards and clean-up agreements from Tetratech arrived a few days later, as agreed. Of course, Koffi never set up the holding companies he'd talked about, nor the Swiss bank account. Not for Gwinnett, nor for himself. Instead, he delivered the recording of his conversation with Gwinnett to his journalist contacts around the world.

The Guardian was the first to go to print: "Rare earth, pervasive corruption" was the headline. Then other newspapers in Europe and North America took up the story. The focus was not on Gwinnett per se, though he was named. Rather, it was on the prevailing practices of American and European corporations, looting the Global South of its mineral wealth, dumping toxic pollutants, and corrupting or intimidating public officials in these countries to get their way. The Tetratech-Lubanda affair just served as a particularly shocking example of this, where the details of the corruption had all come out in the open. Cabinet ministers and Congressional or Parliamentary committees launched public inquiries into the business practices of Tetratech and similar corporations. Tetratech had been all set to launch a PR campaign, lauding themselves as environmentally enlightened for their agreements with the Lubandan government. But after the story broke, that became impossible: Tetratech would have been hooted off the stage. It was equally impossible to rescind the agreements.

The role of the "Company" wasn't mentioned. It never is. Some things journalists, and editors, know to stay away from, for the sake of their health.

Once the story broke, Gwinnett was immediately suspended from his position in Tetratech, pending an investigation. Presumably a similar thing happened with respect to the other "Company" he may or may not have worked for. He may have fantasized about killing Koffi Ngwede in revenge for his downfall, but he no longer had access to a "wet-job" crew to do his bidding. Besides, he would be the prime suspect, if any harm befell the Undersecretary of Mining. He was allowed to keep his pension. He did not go to jail. Guys like him usually don't, even when they're obviously guilty as hell. He and Sally retired to a modest ranch in Idaho. It wasn't a Tuscan villa exactly, but they were relieved to be surrounded by white people once again.

Meanwhile, in Lubanda, Koffi Ngwede was now a national hero. Everybody who was anybody came to his wedding in Ouasumzi - even a few of Bunny's friends, all the way from Palo Alto. Key figures in the Peace and Justice Party tried to recruit him to replace their somewhat lackluster Prime Minister. But Koffi preferred to remain in his role as Undersecretary of Mining, to oversee the river clean-up projects.

But first, he would take a year-long sabbatical in Palo Alto, California, at half-pay, with his new bride.

* * *

It was October 3, a month after their wedding, and they were still in Lubanda. When Koffi arrived home from work, Bunny met him, as usual: running naked to the door and leaping into his arms, wrapping her legs around him, covering his face with kisses. Her homemade chicken and okra stew simmered fragrantly on the stove.

"Let me help you out of those clothes, boo. Oh... good news," she said, as she unbuttoned his shirt, "your US visa arrived today... finally. We can go ahead and book our flight now."

He didn't answer her; he just moved in for a deep kiss, carrying her into the bedroom.

Bunny had missed the start of the fall semester, but she could resume classes in January. That would give them some time to settle in: time for Koffi to see some sights in and around San Francisco, with Bunny as his tour guide. Then her classes would begin, and he would start to work on his book.

"How do you want me, boo?"

"Mmm, I think I want to start with licking that beautiful pussy for a while."

"You got it," she said cheerfully, lying back and spreading her thighs.

"Mmm, such a delectable honeytrap you've got here, Bunny. I can't get enough of it. You've trapped me so sweetly: I don't ever want to escape."

She wrapped her calves around his shoulders. "Eat my honey, boo. It's all for you."

* * *

A year and a half later, they were back in Koffi's apartment in Ouasumzi, having returned from Palo Alto the previous month. Bunny had graduated from Stanford, cum laude, with a BA in African history. She now had a part-time position with the Ministry of Education, helping to modernize and decolonialize the history curriculum for the country's middle and high schools.

But at the moment, Bunny was breastfeeding their eight-month-old son, whom they had named Mbala, after the driver who had shown her such kindness when she first came to Ludamba. Conveniently, Mbala was also the name of Koffi's maternal grandfather. The baby was dark-skinned and beautiful, like his father. But he had her hazel eyes. Koffi too had reduced his work to part-time, so he could do his share of the child care.

After the birth, Bunny tried phoning her parents to tell them they had a grandson, but her mother hung up on her.

Bunny rewrapped her kzumu, covering her breasts. She burped her son, then put him down for his nap. After that, she did a little tidying up of the living room, getting ready for the weekend visit of the (other) children. She got the toys out for the grandchildren.

Koffi would be home from work soon. She couldn't wait to tell him about her day, and hear about his progress on the river clean-up campaign, as they ate their evening meal. After their home-from-work afternoon love-making session, of course. Thinking about her husband's impending return got her pussy dripping, and her asshole tingling. Ordinarily she was happy to let him choose, but today, she thought, she wanted him in her ass first.

She heard his footsteps in the apartment hallway. Excitedly, she removed her kzumu, wanting to greet him naked as usual. The door opened.

"Darling, I'm home..."