25 Şubat 2024

Black Bottom Ch. 03

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Still relaying the reminiscences of my long-ago lover, Alan, here is the seventh, following on from ‘Pygiaphilia,’ ‘Semper Figura Chapters 1-3’ and ‘Black Bottom Chapters 1 and 2.’ In the two previous ‘Black Bottom’ chapters, he was setting up and inspecting a series of projects, designed to benefit the inhabitants of less developed areas in a newly-independent African country. The supervisor from the ministry, Dr Azuka, she of the impressive posterior, appointed her assistant to accompany him on his next round of the locations.


Alan collected Mrs Dzifa from her home, as arranged, early in the morning, opening the jeep door for her and stowing her luggage, a small suitcase, amidst the gear on the back seat. She was wearing a loose, greenish-coloured shirt, faded and floppy from much laundering, and a long, loose skirt, of the same faded shade, also washed-out. Over her closely-cropped hair she had a multi-coloured scarf, secured with a knot at the back of her head. She was clad for travel in the bush, down to socks and canvas boots.

As they left the city, he observed in his peripheral vision that she was sitting bolt upright, staring straight ahead, tense, holding a small leather bag on her lap. He surmised that this held her more immediate requirements. She might have her period, for instance – he had noticed that women often kept their handbags close at such times.

Digression 1: I avoided this by carrying a couple of tampons down my cleavage.

Alan attempted help the young woman relax.

‘This your first time upcountry?’

‘No. I’m from a small town a long way away.’

‘Are we going anywhere near it?’

‘No.’ He thought she shuddered a moment, and quickly went on.

‘Have you worked for Dr Azuka long?’

‘Three years and three months. She’s wonderful. She saved me.’

He understood that she had not meant to utter the last sentence. ‘If you need to stop for anything, let me know, and it’ll be a useful moment to check the engine levels, or make some tea.’

He caught her nod, and began to tell her about the sites they were to visit, but it quickly emerged she had studied her boss’s report and needed no briefing. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, before she asked him to stop and got out. She was clearly anxious to be out of his sight, but not keen to walk into the hinterland very far. He solved her problem by getting out and opening the jeep’s bonnet and burying his head in the engine compartment, enabling her to do whatever she wanted to do – perhaps a toilet break or a change of sanitary equipment. He waited until she got back into the vehicle before emerging.

After they had gone a distance, she said, ‘Dr Azuka said you were a considerate man.’

‘I hope so.’

‘She said you might be able to help me.’

‘I would like to.’

He made sure to face forward, so she wouldn’t have to look at him, and there was a lengthy silence, eventually broken by the sound of half-suppressed weeping. He said, ‘No need to talk now. We shall be together a couple of weeks. Take your time.’


She gulped, drew a large handkerchief from her bag to wipe her face, and said, ‘I’ve got to tell it now or I won’t be able. Dr Azuka says you can understand, but you won’t have heard anything like it. It doesn’t happen in England.’

‘Sounds like I might learn something, then. But, remember, I was born and raised in Africa, and studied the continent quite widely.’

‘It’s something tribal, and secret, something women do to young girls.’

‘Some kind of initiation?’

‘Something like that.’ She broke down again and mopped with the handkerchief.

‘Something terrible.’

‘Terrible.’ She scrubbed hard at her face. ‘The women cut…’

‘Yes, I do know. The women cut out the girl’s clitoris.’

‘How did you find out?’ She was so surprised she ceased crying.

‘Our maid told me when I was sixteen. She had run away to our town, and was saved from it when my parents took her in.’

This revelation shocked Mrs Dzifa into a rigid silence.

Alan explained, ‘She was always more a companion than a servant. Like a sister to me. We love her. She’ll always live with my parents.’ Suddenly he guessed what she wanted to tell him. ‘It was done to you, wasn’t it?’

‘No. No it wasn’t.’

There was a pause while he considered. ‘And that was a problem?’

‘Yes. When my husband found out he was furious. He didn’t want me anymore.’

‘He didn’t know before you were married?’

‘No. My parents let him think…he was much older than me, more…traditional. But he was important, and they wanted to be connected to his family.’

They drove on, while he considered whether he could or should ask more. Eventually, she shed further silent tears and said, ‘You wonder if I am still a virgin?’

‘I didn’t wonder anything, Mrs Dzifa. I only wondered if you wanted to say more.’

Again, she scrubbed her face. ‘He found out the third time. Because I showed I liked it. He had not known till then then, because…because…’

‘The Travesti traditional position meant he didn’t see.’

‘Your maid told you everything.’

‘She did, yes.’

‘He didn’t look till then.’

‘And he couldn’t adapt himself.’

‘He sent me back to my parents. I was disgraced. No-one would ever want me.’

‘But you got away from there.’

‘Yes, the minister and Dr Azuka came on a tour and I threw myself on her mercy. She took me back with her. She sent me to college, She is my second mother.’

‘And you haven’t met another man.’

‘I am frightened.. I do not trust African men now, and I cannot tell about myself.’

‘Though I know African men, like your minister, who hate and want to stop that dreadful custom.’

There is another thing, Mr Alan. What I found out with my husband.’

‘Shall I guess, Mrs Dzifa?’

‘Yes. You know. Dr Azuka said I could trust you.’

‘You discovered your capacity for sexual enjoyment.’

‘My husband took so long to finish for himself, I began to have feeling.’

They motored for a couple of miles. He felt she was calmer now her secrets were revealed, and that she was content to await whatever he proposed.

‘Mrs Dzifa, I am honoured you’ve confided in me. I know how hard it was, and I thank you for your trust. I take it Dr Azuka knows all about you?’

‘Oh, yes, that is why she sent me out with you like this.’

‘She thinks I can help you?’

‘Yes. I think so, too.’

‘Another question, then. Have you been left hanging, disappointed, in need?’

‘You are a tactful man, Mr Alan. Yes. Yes.’


It was evident, now, that Mrs Dzifa was almost certainly expecting Mr Alan to make love to her. A prospect both exciting and daunting. She was an attractive woman, but she was also, perhaps, expecting a tremendous experience beyond his capacity to provide. However, he was obviously committed to the attempt.

For the first time since they had shaken hands on first meeting, she laid her hand on his bare arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘I know about you and Dr Azuka.’ The good doctor had clearly reported favourably on his abilities, and Mrs Dzifa was therefore confident he would be able to ‘help’ her. Since she was still only one step beyond being a virgin, she was also yielding herself into his care as a tyro in matters sexual.

His next cogitation was about how to initiate her induction into activities beyond rear-entry penetration. But she cut to the chase, or the case. ‘We could stop now, Mr Alan, and perhaps have some tea? And get better acquainted? If you would like that, of course. You haven’t yet said what you think about how we could be together.’

‘Mrs Dzifa, you are a beautiful woman and I want very much to admire your beauty more closely. But I know it’s possible circumstances may not be favourable at present.’

She laughed. ‘So tactful. But circumstances are favourable, I assure you.’

The largely flat terrain, covered in scrub and trees, appeared deserted. He stopped the jeep, got out, hastened round to the passenger door, and opened it, as she swung her legs towards him and offered her hand. He skirt rode up her thighs as she moved and she made no attempt to pull it down. There was a glimpse of white gusset, then she was standing close to him, smiling into his face.

He fetched out the tarpaulin and spread it on the ground. She sat down. Then he got the kettle, tinned milk and water-can and walked away to seek kindling. But when he returned she said, ‘Perhaps we have tea later?’

‘Your wish is my command, dear lady. In the meantime…’

‘I am a little hot, Mr Alan. You know, you’ve seen, that many African women don’t wear clothes above the waist. If you don’t mind I’ll be a little more traditional, now we’re out of the city.’ She pulled the shirt off, and, was bra-less. ‘That’s better.’

Her breasts were below average in size, but they were flawless in shape. Firm, smooth, without folds beneath. The areolas were chocolate-coloured, the nipples little cones.

‘Beautiful,’ Alan said.

‘Not much beside Dr Azuka’s,’ she said, ‘But she thought you might like them.’

‘You and she seem to know each other very well.’

‘We have shared a room when travelling.’ She laughed a little.

‘Know each other very well, then.’

Digression 2: Africans tended to use formal forms – Mr, Mrs, Miss, Dr – even when being maximally intimate, the familiarity signalled in the use of first names as well.

He was still standing, with the fire-makings in his hands. He put them down, and held his hands for her to pull herself to her feet. When she released him he spread his palms across her breasts, nipples in the centre slowly circled his hands, relishing the resilience and texture, the hardening of those little turrets.

She said, some African tribes go entirely naked. Mine doesn’t, but there’s no reason not to borrow the custom, is there?’

‘Indeed not.’

‘Well, I know you white people don’t go naked, but you could borrow the custom, Ankara Travesti too. Especially someone like you, closer to us than most whites.’

‘Well, Mrs Dzifa, that’s a good an excellent idea.’ Unhurriedly he unbuttoned and removed his shirt, sat down and took off his boots and socks, stood and pulled off his shorts and underpants.’

She also sat to remove her boots and socks, stood to drop her skirt and stood before him in white knickers. ‘These are not traditional, as I’m sure you know. They’re borrowed from you whites, often enforced by missionaries, like the teachers in my local school.’

‘I suggest you take them off, then, Mrs Dzifa.’

She did just that, and he experienced a sharp intake of breath, because his whole attention was absorbed in the vision of a superb, African, woman, standing tall in her full beauty, which was spectacular beyond sexual attraction. He marvelled, and was overawed, partly because of her confidence, after the debacle of her marital initiation.

She glanced at his limp penis. ‘Perhaps white men don’t respond like black ones.’

He stepped close to her and said quietly, ‘Mrs Dzifa, you are so magnificent I feel unable to rise to the challenge.’

‘But, Mr Alan, I need you to rise, to rise, to the challenge. After all, I know you can.’

He sat down and said, ‘You know, Mrs Dzifa, I think white men have always been daunted by the impact on their minds and senses of an African woman’s body. Which is one reason they have behaved so badly in Africa.’

‘Oh, Mr Alan, let us live in the present and the immediate. Ah, but I think I know what might help you. Dr Azuka told me you have a taste for this…’ And she turned slowly and backed towards him so that his gaze was largely filled with, ‘…Black bottom!’

They both laughed, and he said, ‘That is a lovely bottom in any shade.’

‘I thought you’d like it. Does it help you at all?’

‘Please kneel down by me.’

‘Do you want to use the traditional method, Mr Alan? That would be fine. I haven’t been shocked out of it. Not if there’s more to it.’ She knelt before him and lowered her upper body onto her forearms. Her bottom was as firm, smooth and sweet as her breasts, almost as devoid of the fold underneath as her bosoms were.

Her posture opened her crack and her inner lips were parted enough to offer a dark-pink crevice. That sight sparked his erection at once. Instinct overcame awe and he moved forward to feel for her entrance.

‘I’m ready, Mr Alan,’ she said. ‘I have been for some time. Don’t hesitate.’

As he probed his way in there was a delicious sucking sound as the labia parted and he slid easily inwards, with another involuntary intake of breath. Once lodged within he reached round her hip and sought her clitoris, gloriously present, readily apparent within the little tangled jungle. Though not large, it was easy to locate, and he slid a fingertip against it, up and down the upper extremity of her vulva.

Yes, Mr Alan,’ she said, ‘That’s what it’s for, isn’t it? A woman’s most precious possession. Terrible that other women should want to take it away.’

He began to glide in and out of her, still caressing the clit, and she began to push back against him and breathe deeply. She said, ‘This is the way. I know this is the way. I could feel what should happen, and now it can happen. You can make it happen, can’t you, Mr Alan?’

‘Yes, Mrs Dzifa. I can, because you can. We can make it happen together.’

‘Oh, I want that, I want that more than anything I ever wanted.’

‘You’ll know when it’s going to happen. That’s part of it, you know it’s coming and then it happens.’

‘Will you know, too?’

‘Yes, I’ll know. You’ll tell me. Your bottom will tell me.’

‘Will it happen for you?’

‘It can, if you want it to, or we can wait to see if it happens again for you. I think we should do that.’

‘I’m in your hands, Mr Alan, in every way. You are holding my bottom.’

‘Do you like that?’

‘Yes, it makes me feel safe, with you taking care of me.’

There was no more to say for the moment. He increased the speed of his cocking into and out of her, slamming home against her limit with greater force. He felt her vagina stiffen around him as the walls engorged, and lengthen in that wonderful way that it does for many women prior to orgasm. He had to control the urge to splurge into her in concert with her coming, but he rejoiced in her tumultuous climax. She writhed against him, her cunt pulsating rhythmically as she rode the climax to its peak and its slow decreasing.

Eventually he said, ‘Not your first orgasm, I think, but your first with a man inside.’

‘Yes. I have helped myself, but there was something missing.’

‘This is a strange moment to say this, Mrs Dzifa, but your English is excellent.’

Abruptly she drew away from him, so that his penis flopped out, and twisted herself to lie on her back and look up at him. ‘It is a good moment to say that. Dr Azuka put me through college, you see, and we speak only English istanbul Travesti in the office.’


Alan gently lifted her legs apart and shuffled forward to be between them. Which was the moment he fell in love, aged 33, for the first and only time. He felt it happen, as if it were an orgasm in the soul. Looking down into her warm, brown eyes, bathed in the smile on her plump, chocolate-coloured lips, he felt tears of ecstatic anguish pricking behind his eyes.

She sensed that something was happening to him and lifted her upper body towards him. She said, ‘We Africans don’t kiss much, Mr Alan, but I think you would like it if we did. Show me how it’s done.’

He took her by the upper arms, bent towards her and sank his lips within hers, then opening his mouth to draw her lips within his. For some minutes, as she followed his lead, they plied and pleated their lips, eventually beginning to lick and suck, until at last he slid his tongue into her mouth and explored within. At the same time he felt for and caressed and palpated her breasts, pressing the nipples with his thumbs.

He was almost reluctant to go into her, feeling that would commit him inexorably, that there would be no retreat. Entering her from the rear had somehow not counted, just a preliminary. Now he was about to seal his love within her.

When they broke the kissing she said, ‘This is the famous missionary position, isn’t it? Not that any missionary ever tried it or told me about it.’

‘Almost,’ he said, feeling for her vestibule with his penis-end, and, as he pushed in the first inch or so, he said, ‘Now it is.’

‘New for me, of course,’ she said, ‘So far I like it.’

‘The joy of it is’ he said, ‘That I can study your face, look into your eyes, enjoy your breasts, like this, watch how you like me being inside you.’

‘You are looking at me with such feeling, Mr Alan,’ she said. ‘It makes me feel you like me, that you are enjoying me.’

‘You are beautiful beyond any woman I’ve ever seen,’ he said. ‘You are so lovely I’m almost weeping with the intensity of my being in your perfect vagina.’

‘Such new English language I’m hearing. And I like you in my perfect vagina. What a wonderful expression.’

‘It is paradise, Mrs Dzifa.’

‘It is nice for me, too, Mr Alan. I think the feeling will happen again soon…in my perfect vagina. Yes, it will. This time I want you to have it, too, I want us to go together.’

‘We usually say “come together,” in English.’

‘The orgasm is the coming?’

‘That’s right. I know it in Swahili – na mshindo – but not in Twi.’

They fell silent, concentrating on that perfect, and quite rare, organo-spiritual union in which penis and vagina sing close harmony. He was positioning himself, too, to compress the upper reaches of her crevice, to tease her clitoris. And after some minutes of this communication she began to murmur, ‘Yes, Mr Alan. Yes, it’s coming. Or do I say, “I’m coming”? It’s both. Isn’t it? Oh, Mr Alan, it’s coming inside me and I’m coming. Are you coming, Mr Alan?’

‘When you come, Mrs Dzifa, I will. And I will know it in your breasts. Please, let me also see it in your eyes.’

‘If I can keep them open…Oh, now, Mr Alan. I am, I am coming, coming.’

Her eyes widened and he felt as if he were not only spilling his essence within her but ejaculating into her soul, shooting stars into her warm firmament.’

.She pulled him down to her bosom. He felt its swelling against his cheek, confirming her orgasm, which filled him with satisfaction beyond his own.

He was awoken from a semi-somnolent state by her saying, ‘Perhaps there were some good things the missionaries brought to us.’

‘On the other hand, it would be a shame to limit the possibilities, wouldn’t it?’

‘Ah, Mr Alan, I think you have more wicked white man’s ways to teach me.’

‘Ah, Mrs Dzifa, I do indeed. If you turn away from me onto your side. Like that, yes, an draw up your upper leg…Accessible, you see, in several ways.’

‘And with plenty of black bottom.’

‘Indeed so, and you have a sweet, perfect, intoxicating bottom.’

Kneeling behind that delicious behind, he lifted the upper cheek, exposing her well-lubricated vestibule. The view of bottom and oozing vulva brought him fully erect and he moved forward to lodge his glans-end, then slowly sank his penis into her, released the buttock, to trap himself within, and reached over her hip and down her stomach to seek her clitoris with one hand, while the other fondled a breast.

She turned her head to look up into his face, smiled and said, ‘Do you think I can “come” again, Mr Alan?’

‘What do you think?’

There was a pause while she checked her responses to his attentions, then, ‘Yes, I think I can. Is that unusual. Am, an oversexed hussy?’

‘Where do you get your English. I can’t imagine they taught you that at college?’

‘We read a lot, Dr Azuka and I, and the college library does have English novels.’

‘Most women can come several times. Some a dozen or more, which means we men have to be resourceful, because two or three times, with intervals, is about our limit. We shall have great pleasure researching your potential while we are together.’ He could not resist adding, ‘And maybe after our on-the-road adventures.’

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