Surprising Discovery

I had been out in the Tongaland district of Zululand for just over 6 days when I stumbled upon a secret. I found out where the local women went to relieve themselves, I mean shitting and pissing. For a white woman it was quite a problem finding a suitably private place to bath, dunk and piss. The river was an option but, Northern Zululand rivers are notorious for their unforgiving crocodiles and I did not want to have my cunt bitten off by some ugly reptile. I had erected a small screen next to a rock, not too far from my tent and although I had a strange feeling of being watched from higher up the hill, I was not bothered as I had been assured by the local Chief Tembe that violent crime and rape were non-existent in this part of South Africa. Quite unlike the rest of the country.
From my vantage point in the bush, I watched as one big fat Zulu “mama” dunked. I could see the big brown-green turd twist on the ground as it emerged from behind her bushy cunt which was in my full view. She was literally full of shit, that Zulu matron; she seemed to have loads and loads of it. Halfway through the process she started spewing what must have been at least a litre of golden yellow piss. I had my mouth open as I appreciated the sheer size of her huge cunt, and the bush of curly black hair.
I didn’t realise that I had my hand in my dungaree overalls, cupped over my little cunt. When in Zululand do as the Zulus do, so, no panties for me! Although I was only 20 metres away from the Zulu woman, I took out my pocket binoculars and focused between her legs. I could clearly see the darkened skin where the fat woman’s thighs rubbed and chaffed. I never imagined I would be turned on by looking at another woman’s cunt, less so, a fat (probably smelly) rural Zulu cunt.
As she finished dunking her arsehole twitched to break-off the last little bit of hanging shit. It must have been a tricky sticky one because her whole pussy winked at me several times before that turd dropped on the ground, crowning the impressive mound of well formed, snail-shell-shaped shit. She stayed in the crouched position for a minute, one last gush of piss shooting out of her vaginal folds. She stripped a few leaves from a nearby bush and wiped her anus, taking time to look at the stains on the leaves until the last bunch showed no trace of shit “Kaka” as they call it in modern Zulu.
She turned around and bent right over, with her huge butt pointed towards me. She spread her cuntlips and wiped herself with the velvety leaves before going down the hill to the village below, gaily singing some tribal verse. The last view of that huge cunt is etched on my mind to this day; long and wide with lips large and disorganised, like an abstract art masterpiece. My cunt was on fire and I could feel a delicious heaviness in my lower abdomen. As my fingers played around my very wet mound, I could feel that my clit had grown to a size I never imagined possible and it was throbbing. I rubbed it hard, squeezing it between my thumb and index finger. I enjoyed the glorious feel of my slippery fingers on my over-sensitive clitoris and mourned loud as I enjoyed the feeling. I took my time, no hurry in Africa, they say.
I was sweating profusely from the excitement and from the coastal humidity. I knew I needed more. I unbuttoned one strap of my dungaree, unzipped the side and pulled my trousers to my ankles, literally dropping on my bum. I felt the warm granite rock under my bare butt. My whole hand was stuck in my tight little pussy as I dipped them in and out of my wet twat, stretching it beyond the limits of elasticity. I must have closed my eyes to savour the eroticism of being in the African bush, alone and enjoying the kind of sexual pleasure I seldom enjoyed in the concrete jungle that my distant home, Sandton is fast becoming.
“Hayibo, kwenzenjani!” (“What the fuck!” in Zulu)
I was too weak to jump as I realised that I had been caught with my pants down! It was a short little Zulu man with his traditional accoutrements, a knobkerrie in his hand and rubber catapults around his neck. He was wearing the traditional “skirt” made of squirrel tails with a shoulder cover made of leopard skin. He must have been coming from some ceremony as Zulu men don’t dress up like that anymore. I remained there, legs wide open and my fingers deep in my hot little cunt. I kept my eyes fixed on the little Zulu impi, not sure what he or I was going to do next. He looked away as a sign of the respect Zulu men have for white women, I felt disappointed to the point of panicking…what if runs away, scared.
“Woza” was all I could say, telling him to come to me.
“Hawu…(what…)” he said looking around to make sure we had no audience.
He towered over me as I lay on my back. I looked “up-skirt” and realized that he was wearing khaki shorts underneath. With my left hand I reached and pulled his shorts down revealing yet another surprise. For such a small guy, the man was over endowed, his dangling semi-erect penis reached mid-thigh. I reached for it with my right hand pulling him down to kneeling position. Within seconds I swear by my living god, his member was no less than 12 inches long. I let go for a few seconds and that dick sprang free, sticking through the dangling squirrel tails of his skirt.
“Bhebha…(fuck me)” I ordered in the little Zulu language that I knew.
Like the obedient African he was, he moved between my legs and plunged his bare uncut dick into my little crack, thrusting it all the way into my womb. I screamed in pain. It was definitely the biggest dick to rip through my middle section and still holds that record to date. Pain and pleasure are 2 sides of the same coin, I have been told. I was in a dizzy frenzy, humping onto the little fellows penis and feeling the bumps in its skin. One anecdote; North Zulus and South Mozambicans have dick enlarging exercises at a young age and the traditional medicine men cut the skin along the whole penile shaft, inserting large beads with the result that the penis is larger, harder and has a bumpy-cobbled feel to it. Every woman’s dream!
The little impi banged me with gay abandon, shafting as much of his dick in and out of my tight slot as he could. I wanted to sing praises for him but with my limited Zulu lexicon, all I could say was the crude Zulu phrase for “Fuck me, man!”
“Bhebha ndoda, bhebha….” Over and over again. As if he needed any orders. The real risk of getting HIV/AIDS infection was forgotten as I enjoyed my first “ethnic” shag. And he was brutal, like a man possessed with some Zulu spirit he savaged and ravaged that pussy of mine. The pain was intense as I felt him tear my vagina, but the pleasure was greater. He had surprising staying power.
I got up and offered my vagina from behind. Again he felt obliged to accept, immediately ramming his dick into my hot pulsatile pussy. I looked around in my dizzy frenzy and for the first time noticed what a beautiful day it was; clear blue skies, no wind, no dust, just African paradise all around.
Without warning, he grunted and I felt my insides flooded with hot semen. The Zulu man was coming inside my white cunt. I came also and it was beautiful, like synchronised choreography to some imaginary tribal chants.
Who says social anthropological research is boring!
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Thats is lovers, for more on my writing check out this Female Orgasm 101; Preparation, Building & Delivering it - https://exoticsex.home.blog/2020/04/30/female-orgasm-101/