Black Royalty in the Zulu Empire
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The Zulu And The Vampire free porn video
THE ZULU AND THE VAMPIRE
Hi. Let me begin by telling you a bit about me. My name’s Morris Dee, and I’ve got an angular sort of face, with good cheekbones, a straight nose, and greeny-grey eyes, all topped off with a mop of dark, curly hair. I’m 5’9”, and of medium build, apart from my thighs and bum, which are quite beefy (I cycle). I’m OK with that, as I like dragging up, and girls’ clothes look better on you when there’s a bit more sand in the bottom of the hourglass.
During my time at college, one of my fellow students was a South African hunk called Samson Djubuthi. When I tell you he was six foot two, and handsome, with a commanding air (he was, in fact, a real Zulu prince, eldest son of his tribe’s chief), you won’t be surprised to hear that he caused quite a few panties to get moist (including mine). I remember especially the time he came to a Halloween party in his traditional tribal outfit. It was strangely chorus-girl like, with fluffy shin guards and armlets, an ostrich feather headress and some beads, and nothing much else but a short skirt of leather strips, leaving his thighs and torso bare. I had come dressed as a sort of tarty Goth vampire, with heavy eyeliner and scarlet painted lips over plastic Dracula fangs, in a clingy black dress that showed off my bum nicely. It was my first time in public in drag, and I was a bit nervous, but everybody was extravagantly complimentary.
Samson, though, paid me the best compliment of all - he spent a good ten minutes chatting me up, before he realised it was me! And when he did, he laughed out loud, head back and teeth flashing, saying "Brilliant! brilliant! I thought you wear a real girl! Hahahahaa!!" I was glad he took it so well, (you never know with straight boys), but when he offered to share some ganja with me, I noticed how pink his eyes were, and I twigged - he was stoned out of his box. That could turn out to my advantage! He suggested we sneak off to the basement to smoke it, which I thought boded well. The central heating boiler was down there, so it was warm and dry and, with only one dim light bulb, seductively dark. We both leaned against the wall side by side, and Samson pulled a ready- rolled joint out of the black boxer shorts he was wearing under his Zulu kilt. He handed it to me,
saying, with a sheepish grin,
“Sorry, man - no pockets. Hope you don’t mind?” I ran the spliff under my nose, smelling the trace
of his crotch, and said,
“Oh no - I don’t mind at all!” I closed my scarlet lipsticked lips around the end in the most suggestive way I could, and took my lighter out of my bra to spark it up. As I exhaled the smoke, I put my high-heeled foot up on the wall behind me, so that the slit in my skirt fell open, showing suspenders, the tops of black fishnet stockings, and a glimpse of my pale thighs above them. Samson’s eyes were almost closed, but I could see him ogling me under his lashes. After a couple of tokes, I handed the joint to him. He said,
“Thanks, man.” Then, after a deep drag, “So ... you a sort of vampire, is it?”
“Yes.” I said, smiling to show my plastic fangs, and licking my lips. Sampson sniggered lewdly. “So you like to suck mens’ blood, yah?” He asked, with a big sexy grin.
“Oh no,” I said, “It’s not their blood I like to suck!” Samson chuckled delightedly, reaching down, and groping his crotch. His eyes, were locked on mine, but they dropped for a moment to his bulge, before coming back. I needed no second bidding! I moved round to face him, then sank slowly to my knees - making sure to take out my vampire teeth as I did so!
That still remains one of my sweetest sex memories - how my excitement mounted as I knelt there, slowly unbuttoning his pants: how, when I scooped his tackle out, it looked so edible, like a meaty black salami, topped with a nice juicy peach, and two dark heavy plums hanging beneath: how it felt to cup his hard, round buns in my hands, as I guided his dick into my mouth: how I wrapped my lipsticked lips around it and feasted on it for what seemed like hours until I heard his breath begin to quicken, and his peachy knob to ooze juice. Knowing he was close, I swallowed him right to the root, until my mouth was mumbling the base of his beautiful big phallus, and my nose was buried in his musky pubes. His panting and moaning increasing in speed and volume, until with a roar, he
pumped his spunk down my guzzling throat. It makes my mouth water just remembering it!
After a moment or two he sank down on his haunches, his back against the wall, and smiled a lazy, droopy-eyelid smile at me.
“Mm, yeah!” He said, “You gobbled down my umboko so good! Awu! Best blowjob ever!”
I blushed with pleasure, and smiled back at him. He took the joint from behind his ear, and lit it. I gazed at him, as he squatted there, his thick dick still half-hard and throbbing, his beautiful big balls hanging almost to the ground. In his beads and feathers, he looked like some potent magical image I was kneeling before, a humble worshipper. The joint went back and forth, and we both got more and more stoned. I could still taste his cum in my mouth, and in my imagination I could feel it, coursing through my veins, like a powerful aphrodisiac. My dick began to stir in my panties. All this time, he had been gazing at me in a dreamy, speculative sort of way. Finally he said,
“I am straight. I only fuck girls.”
“Oh?” I replied, wondering what on earth made him say that. He went on,
“Also I only let girls suck me off.” I puzzled for a second, then my heart gave a jump, and my cock
came up hard, as I saw where this might be going. Sure enough the next thing he said was,
“So you must be a girl.” He nodded to himself a couple of times. “Yes - you a girl.” After a moment
he told me,
“Stand up, girl.” He didn’t raise his voice, but there was no mistaking the tone of command. He was
a prince after all, a future chief. I obeyed.
“Now take off the dress.” I unzipped the dress, and slipped out of it, turning my back, and pushing
out my bum as I did so.
“Mm, yeah!” He breathed, “Nice and FAT! Now take off the bra and panties.” I did as I was told. Once I was down to my stockings, suspenders and high-heels, he reached out to grab me by the hips, and pull me towards him, so my butt was inches from his face. I could feel his hot breath on it, and his strong fingers digging into the flesh, as he crooned
“So soft - so plump.” Then he spread my buns, and began to lick. My head reeled with the unspeakable pleasure of it - his thick, wet tongue slobbering between my buttcheeks, and probing deep into my rectum. As he grew ever more passionate, he began nibbling and biting my fat booty, sometimes sinking his teeth in so hard, that I squealed with pain and pleasure. In the mists of my stoned fantasy, I become a young doe, panting and trembling in the grip of some huge muscular big cat, as it ravages her tender rump.
I was drifting off on cloud nine, when he stood up and wrapped his arms round me, with his big boner pushed hard against my ass. He began to rock me gently from side to side, leading me in a sort of slow dance, gradually circling round, until I was facing the wall. Putting his mouth against my ear, he murmured,
“Do you want me to show how the police arrest a gay boy in Jo’burg?” I suppose I should have found this a bit bizarre, but I was too stoned to care. An image drifted through my head of a muscle hunk in uniform, wielding a long thick truncheon. My breath was coming short and shallow, as I whispered,
“Show me.” Samson put on a heavy Afrikaaner accent, and said,
“OK, boy - put your hends on the wall.” He pushed me forward, and I did as he said. “Now, sprid your ligs.” I spread them. “Agh nah!” He said, slapping my bum, hard, “Wider then thet! WIDER!”. I spread them so wide, I could feel my asshole gaping. “And then ...” continued Sampson, in his own voice, “ ... they beat him with their big sticks.” He laughed loudly, as if this was a really good joke.
I thought this a bit weird, until he began to whack my butt with his hefty hard-on. My ass, still tingling from the slap, started to glow under the hard dick-beating. After a while he began to smack his wood-hard erection between my buns, right on my butthole, which made me moan and whimper with arousal.
“You like my big stick, boy?” Samson growled, thickly, still as the Boer cop.
“Oooh yes!” I moaned.
“Yes Sir!”
“Yes SIR!”
He changed tack, and started to rub his knob, oozing with precum, up and down my buttcrack. I looked over my shoulder. He was staring down at my ass with a look of intense concentration, until he saw me watching, then a wide, wicked grin spread across his face, and, back in his own voice, he said,
“And then this what those police do, if the boy has a nice fat bottom ...” lodging the tip of his dick against my hole, he pushed hard against my ring, and after a couple of thrusts, he popped his knob. I inhaled sharply as I felt a jab of pain, but it soon subsided. Samson waited a moment, then began to feed his big beauty into me, inch by inch. Once it was buried up to the hilt, he leaned forward, and breathed in my ear,
“You like that, girl?”
“Oh yes, yes!” I moaned.
“Do you want me to fuck you like a bitch?”
“Yes - oh yes please!”
“Then tell me. I wanna hear you beg for it.”
“Please, please, Chief! I want you to make me your bitch! Please fuck me, Chief! FUCK ME!” He laughed, low and lewd, and began to pump. Oh God! He was so expert, penetrating me with smooth strong strokes, building the intensity until he was pounding my ass like a jackhammer, his hard belly banging against my bum with each lunge, making my buttcheeks quiver like jellies. It seemed to go on for hours, but I didn’t want it to stop! Higher and higher we flew, closer and closer to climax, until my cock began to shoot spunk, and Samson let out a mounting howl of pure lust. In the frenzy of his orgasm, he clamped his teeth hard on my neck, and hoisted me right off the ground, squirming and kicking, literally impaled on his spurting phallus, so that I felt once more like a helpless prey in the jaws of a lion.
After we had come down from the high, Sampson turned me to face him, and slipped his tongue between my lips, kissing me long and deep. When we finally separated, he reached behind me to cup my buttcheeks in his big hands, murmuring wetly into my ear,
“Thanks, girl. You a good bitch.” then, with a quick grope of my bum, he headed for the door. I slid to the floor, with a wide, well-fucked smile on my face, and watched him head to the door. He paused in the doorway, and looked back at me for a moment with a slightly puzzled expression - like someone who has enjoyed a conjuring trick, but can't quite figure out how it was done. Then, with a half-smile and a slight shake of the head, he was gone.
Hi. Let me begin by telling you a bit about me. My name’s Morris Dee, and I’ve got an angular sort of face, with good cheekbones, a straight nose, and greeny-grey eyes, all topped off with a mop of dark, curly hair. I’m 5’9”, and of medium build, apart from my thighs and bum, which are quite beefy (I cycle). I’m OK with that, as I like dragging up, and girls’ clothes look better on you when there’s a bit more sand in the bottom of the hourglass.
During my time at college, one of my fellow students was a South African hunk called Samson Djubuthi. When I tell you he was six foot two, and handsome, with a commanding air (he was, in fact, a real Zulu prince, eldest son of his tribe’s chief), you won’t be surprised to hear that he caused quite a few panties to get moist (including mine). I remember especially the time he came to a Halloween party in his traditional tribal outfit. It was strangely chorus-girl like, with fluffy shin guards and armlets, an ostrich feather headress and some beads, and nothing much else but a short skirt of leather strips, leaving his thighs and torso bare. I had come dressed as a sort of tarty Goth vampire, with heavy eyeliner and scarlet painted lips over plastic Dracula fangs, in a clingy black dress that showed off my bum nicely. It was my first time in public in drag, and I was a bit nervous, but everybody was extravagantly complimentary.
Samson, though, paid me the best compliment of all - he spent a good ten minutes chatting me up, before he realised it was me! And when he did, he laughed out loud, head back and teeth flashing, saying "Brilliant! brilliant! I thought you wear a real girl! Hahahahaa!!" I was glad he took it so well, (you never know with straight boys), but when he offered to share some ganja with me, I noticed how pink his eyes were, and I twigged - he was stoned out of his box. That could turn out to my advantage! He suggested we sneak off to the basement to smoke it, which I thought boded well. The central heating boiler was down there, so it was warm and dry and, with only one dim light bulb, seductively dark. We both leaned against the wall side by side, and Samson pulled a ready- rolled joint out of the black boxer shorts he was wearing under his Zulu kilt. He handed it to me,
saying, with a sheepish grin,
“Sorry, man - no pockets. Hope you don’t mind?” I ran the spliff under my nose, smelling the trace
of his crotch, and said,
“Oh no - I don’t mind at all!” I closed my scarlet lipsticked lips around the end in the most suggestive way I could, and took my lighter out of my bra to spark it up. As I exhaled the smoke, I put my high-heeled foot up on the wall behind me, so that the slit in my skirt fell open, showing suspenders, the tops of black fishnet stockings, and a glimpse of my pale thighs above them. Samson’s eyes were almost closed, but I could see him ogling me under his lashes. After a couple of tokes, I handed the joint to him. He said,
“Thanks, man.” Then, after a deep drag, “So ... you a sort of vampire, is it?”
“Yes.” I said, smiling to show my plastic fangs, and licking my lips. Sampson sniggered lewdly. “So you like to suck mens’ blood, yah?” He asked, with a big sexy grin.
“Oh no,” I said, “It’s not their blood I like to suck!” Samson chuckled delightedly, reaching down, and groping his crotch. His eyes, were locked on mine, but they dropped for a moment to his bulge, before coming back. I needed no second bidding! I moved round to face him, then sank slowly to my knees - making sure to take out my vampire teeth as I did so!
That still remains one of my sweetest sex memories - how my excitement mounted as I knelt there, slowly unbuttoning his pants: how, when I scooped his tackle out, it looked so edible, like a meaty black salami, topped with a nice juicy peach, and two dark heavy plums hanging beneath: how it felt to cup his hard, round buns in my hands, as I guided his dick into my mouth: how I wrapped my lipsticked lips around it and feasted on it for what seemed like hours until I heard his breath begin to quicken, and his peachy knob to ooze juice. Knowing he was close, I swallowed him right to the root, until my mouth was mumbling the base of his beautiful big phallus, and my nose was buried in his musky pubes. His panting and moaning increasing in speed and volume, until with a roar, he
pumped his spunk down my guzzling throat. It makes my mouth water just remembering it!
After a moment or two he sank down on his haunches, his back against the wall, and smiled a lazy, droopy-eyelid smile at me.
“Mm, yeah!” He said, “You gobbled down my umboko so good! Awu! Best blowjob ever!”
I blushed with pleasure, and smiled back at him. He took the joint from behind his ear, and lit it. I gazed at him, as he squatted there, his thick dick still half-hard and throbbing, his beautiful big balls hanging almost to the ground. In his beads and feathers, he looked like some potent magical image I was kneeling before, a humble worshipper. The joint went back and forth, and we both got more and more stoned. I could still taste his cum in my mouth, and in my imagination I could feel it, coursing through my veins, like a powerful aphrodisiac. My dick began to stir in my panties. All this time, he had been gazing at me in a dreamy, speculative sort of way. Finally he said,
“I am straight. I only fuck girls.”
“Oh?” I replied, wondering what on earth made him say that. He went on,
“Also I only let girls suck me off.” I puzzled for a second, then my heart gave a jump, and my cock
came up hard, as I saw where this might be going. Sure enough the next thing he said was,
“So you must be a girl.” He nodded to himself a couple of times. “Yes - you a girl.” After a moment
he told me,
“Stand up, girl.” He didn’t raise his voice, but there was no mistaking the tone of command. He was
a prince after all, a future chief. I obeyed.
“Now take off the dress.” I unzipped the dress, and slipped out of it, turning my back, and pushing
out my bum as I did so.
“Mm, yeah!” He breathed, “Nice and FAT! Now take off the bra and panties.” I did as I was told. Once I was down to my stockings, suspenders and high-heels, he reached out to grab me by the hips, and pull me towards him, so my butt was inches from his face. I could feel his hot breath on it, and his strong fingers digging into the flesh, as he crooned
“So soft - so plump.” Then he spread my buns, and began to lick. My head reeled with the unspeakable pleasure of it - his thick, wet tongue slobbering between my buttcheeks, and probing deep into my rectum. As he grew ever more passionate, he began nibbling and biting my fat booty, sometimes sinking his teeth in so hard, that I squealed with pain and pleasure. In the mists of my stoned fantasy, I become a young doe, panting and trembling in the grip of some huge muscular big cat, as it ravages her tender rump.
I was drifting off on cloud nine, when he stood up and wrapped his arms round me, with his big boner pushed hard against my ass. He began to rock me gently from side to side, leading me in a sort of slow dance, gradually circling round, until I was facing the wall. Putting his mouth against my ear, he murmured,
“Do you want me to show how the police arrest a gay boy in Jo’burg?” I suppose I should have found this a bit bizarre, but I was too stoned to care. An image drifted through my head of a muscle hunk in uniform, wielding a long thick truncheon. My breath was coming short and shallow, as I whispered,
“Show me.” Samson put on a heavy Afrikaaner accent, and said,
“OK, boy - put your hends on the wall.” He pushed me forward, and I did as he said. “Now, sprid your ligs.” I spread them. “Agh nah!” He said, slapping my bum, hard, “Wider then thet! WIDER!”. I spread them so wide, I could feel my asshole gaping. “And then ...” continued Sampson, in his own voice, “ ... they beat him with their big sticks.” He laughed loudly, as if this was a really good joke.
I thought this a bit weird, until he began to whack my butt with his hefty hard-on. My ass, still tingling from the slap, started to glow under the hard dick-beating. After a while he began to smack his wood-hard erection between my buns, right on my butthole, which made me moan and whimper with arousal.
“You like my big stick, boy?” Samson growled, thickly, still as the Boer cop.
“Oooh yes!” I moaned.
“Yes Sir!”
“Yes SIR!”
He changed tack, and started to rub his knob, oozing with precum, up and down my buttcrack. I looked over my shoulder. He was staring down at my ass with a look of intense concentration, until he saw me watching, then a wide, wicked grin spread across his face, and, back in his own voice, he said,
“And then this what those police do, if the boy has a nice fat bottom ...” lodging the tip of his dick against my hole, he pushed hard against my ring, and after a couple of thrusts, he popped his knob. I inhaled sharply as I felt a jab of pain, but it soon subsided. Samson waited a moment, then began to feed his big beauty into me, inch by inch. Once it was buried up to the hilt, he leaned forward, and breathed in my ear,
“You like that, girl?”
“Oh yes, yes!” I moaned.
“Do you want me to fuck you like a bitch?”
“Yes - oh yes please!”
“Then tell me. I wanna hear you beg for it.”
“Please, please, Chief! I want you to make me your bitch! Please fuck me, Chief! FUCK ME!” He laughed, low and lewd, and began to pump. Oh God! He was so expert, penetrating me with smooth strong strokes, building the intensity until he was pounding my ass like a jackhammer, his hard belly banging against my bum with each lunge, making my buttcheeks quiver like jellies. It seemed to go on for hours, but I didn’t want it to stop! Higher and higher we flew, closer and closer to climax, until my cock began to shoot spunk, and Samson let out a mounting howl of pure lust. In the frenzy of his orgasm, he clamped his teeth hard on my neck, and hoisted me right off the ground, squirming and kicking, literally impaled on his spurting phallus, so that I felt once more like a helpless prey in the jaws of a lion.
After we had come down from the high, Sampson turned me to face him, and slipped his tongue between my lips, kissing me long and deep. When we finally separated, he reached behind me to cup my buttcheeks in his big hands, murmuring wetly into my ear,
“Thanks, girl. You a good bitch.” then, with a quick grope of my bum, he headed for the door. I slid to the floor, with a wide, well-fucked smile on my face, and watched him head to the door. He paused in the doorway, and looked back at me for a moment with a slightly puzzled expression - like someone who has enjoyed a conjuring trick, but can't quite figure out how it was done. Then, with a half-smile and a slight shake of the head, he was gone.
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