Amy in Africa

Amy had become increasingly concerned about the impending birth, expecting it to be excruciatingly painful in these primitive conditions. What she had not expected was that the constant fucking and stretching of her pussy by all those long thick cocks had kept it dilated and pliable. When her time came, the wives were there to help and it was all over with surprisingly little pain. It was a joyous event and much cause for celebration when a strong fair-haired son was brought into the world.

There was much food and celebration and everyone crowded around to see the baby and watch him suckle. He had a very healthy appetite and in no time he had Amy producing a large volume of milk to satisfy him. She soon found out that it was an honour to suckle one of the chief's sons and within a few days there was a steady stream of nursing mothers who came around to feed him. This, of course, left Amy somewhat engorged and in need of relief. That too was solved since almost every mother wanted her child to have the opportunity to suckle at the breast of the white wife.

Doctor Doyle was never far away. He took hundreds of pictures of Amy feeding various black babies as well as her own child. He was constantly taking notes and making comments about her truly being a part of the tribe now. He said they would never let her go back with him now. Now that she had given the chief a son and had suckled every baby in the village, there was no going back

He was right, of course. He had planned it all perfectly. Amy was no longer the pretty graduate student trying to get her masters, she was the chief's white wife. Mother of his interracial son. There was no going back. Doyle would write his thesis, publish his papers, not even mention Amy's contribution by name. She would simply be the white female subject who was integrated into a wild African tribe.

After Amy had given birth, the chief revoked the tribal privilege. He simply wouldn't take any chance that her next child wouldn't be his. After all those months of constant nightly sex with various men stretching her out, Amy was extremely frustrated. Hormones were still raging and she was intensely horny all the time. Of course Doctor Doyle offered to help her out in this regard, and Amy almost let him fuck her, until she remembered how nasty he had been and how unsatisfying his little cock was and simply laughed him off.

So horny all the time, Amy's sleep was fitful and haunted by recollections of all the men she had fucked. Young, old, muscular, thin, hunters, fighters, the only common denominator, the immense size of their cocks. She longed to feel them stretching her, stroking into her. Fucking her. It was about a month later that, as Amy tossed and turned in her bed, she felt a nudge. Surprised, she looked up and saw her husband standing there. He took Amy's hand and led her back to his hut where he gave Amy exactly what she craved.

Once again Amy was in heaven. The chief made love to her every night, sometimes twice. His large cock spreading her lips and stretching her pussy as he worked to impregnate her again. Fortunately, unfortunately, Amy missed her next period which meant that he had once again proven his virility, and signaling that her time with him was soon to be over. This time, however, she knew what was in store for her every night and, looked forward to returning to the wives' hut.

Of course Doyle tried several times to get Amy to lay with him, but she had no interest in his puny white cock. No interest in laying next to his pasty white skin. Amy's purpose in life was to give the chief his babies and to serve the men of the tribe. He had nothing to do with either of those things and so she simply ignored him.

As his year was coming to an end, Doctor Doyle began to make preparations to leave. Coincidentally, around that same time, things got very difficult for the tribe. The stream was reduced to a trickle by drought, the game moved away, what meager crops they had wilted and died. There had always been a cycle of feast and famine, but this was worse. The tribe was starving. Several of the oldest members died. Mother's milk began to dry up and babies started to get weak and sick.

The tribe had been in such terrible situations before. Once, even worse, and they knew what they had to do. The witch doctor and the chief spent several days making preparations, eventually they had everything ready. Bush had been cleared. The altar was prepared. The fire pit dug. It was time.

Doyle was caught completely unawares when they descended on him. He struggled as hard as he could, but even in their weakened state, the tribesmen easily overpowered him. Once bound to the altar, he screamed and wailed, cried and pleaded. He called repeatedly for Amy to intercede on his behalf to stop these savages from whatever it was they were going to do, but all to no avail. Amy was unmoved. She was part of the tribe now and the tribe needed this to survive. After an hour of chanting, praying, dancing, and still more praying, the deed was done and silence fell over the village.

Yes. Times were very tough. It was a situation of life or death. It was a case of the tribe together against the world. Survival of the fittest, and the tribe MUST survive. Amy was part of the tribe now. Had been for almost a year. Doctor Doyle was an outsider. He had never been part of the tribe. Without game, without the hunt, without food, they would never survive. Human sacrifice. It had always worked before. It would work again. And Doctor Doyle? Doyle had been very bad to her, but in the end, he had tasted very good. The tribe would survive, and so would Amy and her babies.