"Noooooo!" she groaned, louder this time from the combination of pain and humiliation, the plea tumbling from her lips in surprised protest. But he thrust harder, taking pleasure in hearing her noise of subjugation.
"Oh, please, Doug.. stop it!" she shrieked, trying to twist away from this indecent outrage against her cringing asshole.
Still, Doug worked his finger around inside, stretching the rubbery softness wider and wider as he ground into her. He slipped another finger in and felt the stubborn, tight resistance give way as it moved into the warm, rubbery depths. The deep guttural noises coming from her chest changed slowly into whimpers of pain for a moment and then began to be replaced by greater moans of pleasure as her anus became gradually accustomed to the strange, unnatural intrusion.
A smile of pure victory broke across his contorted face as he felt her begin to slowly screw her obscenely-used rectum back on his fingers, and he probed them methodically and more boldly around in the warm, finger-stretched depths. She was hopelessly impaled between his throbbing hard cock in her cunt and his fingers shoved deep up her asshole. And now, whimpering and moaning beneath him, she increased her twisting and bucking movements under the double ravishment of her loins.
He slid his other hand slowly up from the soft rounded globe of her ass to where his penis was sliding sleekly in and out of her pussy and could feel the wet, hair-lined folds clasping tightly around his rampaging cock. He could sense their softness pulling and giving with each long, hard, jack-hammer thrust he made.
Penny tried to push back even harder against the thick fingers digging into her from the rear, wanting more, more, as the hot lubricating cuntal juices now began to flow in torrents to ease the depraved entry. He knew that she was his now, utterly and completely.
The voluptuous young wife gasped incoherent phrases, her pride completely vanished as she lay impaled and naked under her husband's weight. She wanted him to cum, to match the glorious orgasm she was ready to have again, and yet he was holding back and fucking her with teasing, yet promising strokes, as though he were a spider toying with a helpless fly.
Then, swiftly, Doug increased the tempo of his lunges until the spasming liquid muscles of Penny's pussy pulsed on and off like a lust-lit neon sign, sending searing electrical signals through her nerves and building her excitement to a crest that seemed truly dangerous.
"Oh, I'm cumming, I'm cummmmming agaaain, AGAAAAAIN!" she cried shrilly as dazzling darts of light winked on and off in her head, causing her to blink as she grunted out her orgasm and wetted his hammering cock for the second time with her cum juices. He too could feel the hot load of his male sperm rising for an earth-shattering release, the huge head of his cock flexing and suddenly growing larger inside her ravaged cuntal passage. And then, at last, Doug grunted like a dumb beast and heaved forward, his hot liquid shooting deep up into her stretched and battered womb, mixing salaciously with the fluid of her own cumming. Her head whirled in utter sensuality as the burning, powerful squirts surged into her, filling her with its warm sticky whiteness. He felt her cunt jerk towards him several times, the lips working and sucking at his spurting cock as though, trying to milk him dry. Then, after a long moment of gasping sighs, Penny's perfectly sculpted young body was drained of everything, her limbs collapsing loosely on the sun-warmed stone as Doug's grip on her buttocks slowly relaxed and was finally released altogether. He rolled off her, breathing thickly in an effort to fill his lungs with air. Penny moaned at the loss of his thrilling cock and felt a cool draft of night breeze laying her spent, sweat-soaked body.
It was then that they saw them three dark figures outlined against the trees on the far side of the pool next to the waterfall the short barrels of their submachine guns reflected in the moonlight.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Portuguese claim to a certain liberalism of spirit towards their enterprises in Africa hasn't always been an empty one. Some forty-odd years of Dr. Salazar's imperial rule in Portugal have offered the world a face of implacable and blind authoritarianism. Extreme economic discrimination not only against the African, but of the lower class Portuguese peasant at home-has perhaps always been an inevitable attribute of the narrowly-based social oligarchies which have ruled that province the Romans called Lusitania since time immemorial. And yet, most likely because of Portugal's own long colonial experience at the hands of invaders from Italy and, later, North Africa, there has always been a degree of respect for their subject peoples that has been the envy even of the French. Respect, however, does not necessarily put meat on the table.
To the jungle-trained eyes of Sargento Agostinho Da Silva and his two companions, the young white couple writhing nakedly on the moonlit ledge across the pool resembled nothing so much as meat on the table. With the silent swiftness of a forest cat, the three Africans moved as one to prevent the possible escape of their quarry. Indeed, Doug and Penny had scarcely had time to grab their discarded clothing and hold it in front of their nakedness when the burly guerillas were encircling them with their guns pointed directly at their heads. Then, the rebel leader's teeth flashed white in the moonlight as he snapped in French that was even poorer than Doug's, "En Haut-up!"
Quickly, the young couple scrambled to their feet, Doug still holding his trousers up in front of him, Penny attempting to cover her frontal nudity with his T-shirt. "W-Who are you?" Doug stammered bravely in Mgoro. "What are you going to do with us?"
A pleased smile flickered across Da Silva's midnight face. Mgoro was closely related to Djambulu virtually the same language but for minor differences in elocution. He wouldn't have to bother with the burdensome French or the only-slightly more facile Guinea Creole with its large infusion of Portuguese words. "You are under arrest as political prisoners," he explained in his native tongue. "I am Sargento Agostinho Da Silva of the Partido Africano da Independencia da Guine e Cabo Verde-the P.A.I.G.C."
"But this is Senegal!" Doug protested.
"We're Americans!" added Penny.
Da Silva's smile dropped. "You, senhor, are a European pig!" he spat at Doug. "And you," he said, turning to Penny, "you are a naked white whore!"
Doug felt his face purple with rage, but the sobering sight of the three fully automatic weapons that were trained on them kept him rational. "What are you going to do with us?" he repeated.
The Guinean Sergeant's smile returned. "We will begin by taking turns fucking your sow wife," he responded. "Then, if you do not make such noise that will cause my friends to shoot you both, we will take you to the camp of the Djambulu to be held until such time as we can barter your imperialist asses for the release of our comrades-in-arms, being held by the neo-colonialist Senegalese Militia."
Penny understood all of the message but the word fuck, which wasn't normally part of the vocabulary taught at the Peace Corps language center. Doug, through contact with the Mgoro boys in his all-male carpentry class, understood it perfectly. What he didn't understand was what three P.A.I.G.C. soldiers were doing at the pool. It was miles from Djambulu territory, and the party wasn't big enough to stage an effective raid, even if there had been something worth stealing nearby, which there wasn't. He reasoned even in his fear and anger, that there could only be one or two possible explanations for their discovery: either Da Silva and his men had become separated from a larger party and had themselves become lost which in all probability didn't seem at all likely or, someone had tipped the Djambulu off that they were coming there that night. But, who? The only one who could possibly have overheard him talking to Penny about it was the houseboy, Ojike.