Cock-up at Cochem

Then she returned to her seat and waited for the landing at Ikeja.

She had, at the ready, some photos taken with her mother in Buckinghamshire that her husband would be anxious to see.

Hubby – who was very much older than she and a bit of a drag - would be even more anxious, after his long abstinence, to poke his swollen member – just as I had done - into her delightful little dooverlackie as soon as he could arrange it after her arrival.

She was prepared for that – it's only natural, she told herself. After the service I'd provided – all the way down to Accra – she didn't really need much more right now. However, thinking about what would be expected of her on arrival home, she told herself, "It's what girls and dooverlackies – especially when they're aged around 22 or so – have to put up with."

She was – for the moment, at least - content.

From the airport – and even before going to my hotel - I rang a beautiful girl I knew in Accra and, next afternoon, she took me down to a beach hut she had at the coast. I'd known her for quite a while, though I'd never made love to her.

When we got down to her hut, it proved to be not much of a day for swimming or sun baking. There was a haze over everything and the sea looked murky and uninviting. We did swim a little but not for long.

Rather it was a good time for talking and we talked about many things. Shortly, something special began to click between us and I leaned over and kissed her fleetingly – on the lips.

Suddenly, she became nervous and said, "It's so hot and sticky; I must take a shower."

She went into the hut and shortly, I heard her calling to me.

When I went in, she said, "Would you mind soaping my back, please?"

I soaped her back and she washed it off. Then she turned off the shower and looked at me.

She knew she had a lovely body.

Now, she didn't pretend to hide any of it.

She was, in effect, on offer.

I took her in my arms and slipped my swimming trunks down. I had what I thought was a very presentable erection and, as she touched it – affectionately, if not passionately - she seemed to think the same. Her touch was a confirmation of her invitation, so...

Gently, I held her and eased her backwards a metre or so until her back was against the wall.

She moved her legs apart to receive me.

She was quite small so I had almost to half-kneel to get into her and thrust.

It was like my congress with the dooverlackie girl in the little rococo church on the bank of the Mosel. Though this was only in a rather scruffy little African beach hut - and no heavenly lights embraced us - I felt a closeness of spirit with her as well as an intense delight in the union of our flesh. She squirmed and moaned just as Sara had done on that memorable day that now seemed so long ago.

We came together in urgent and beautiful harmony. She didn't ask me if it had been nice. She knew it had been – for both of us. We stopped the car to hug one another several times on the way back to her apartment in Accra. Later that evening, she suggested that, for a change, we try the missionary position. I said "Fine" and we did - and I lodged a vote of approval afterwards for that too....

I stayed with her overnight.

The next day I flew on to Sierra Leone....