Gender: Male Age: 38 Location: NORTHERN KENYA WITH THE SAMBURU TRIBE please write shyamalovesblacks
|Introduction: Shyamala and Mohanlal met at Mumbai University. They were from the same Malayalam speaking Nair community. After graduating, they found it difficult to get a job. Mohanlal joined the family business and Shyamala did part time modelling in the Dharavi slums of Mumbai. The modelling ended up as prostitution for a black clientelle. Mohanlal died of drug resistant TB. Just before his death, Mohanlal narrated this story to his best friend Mohan. It is now published posthumously.|
This is a story about my first marriage in 1985. Shyamala, my wife and I were both students at Mumbai University when we met. I was in the 2nd year when she had started her first. We were both Malayalam speaking, so marriage was not going to be a problem. That was reinforced by the fact that we were also from the Nair community. While I was a city boy from Kandivili and she came from a tiny farming community in Kerala, Paravoor. At 21, Shyamala was 5' 3", natural beauty, fairly muscular, pert 34B boobs and when she smiled she had wonderful white teeth. A real knockout lady.
When we met, she was not a virgin, but I was only her third lover. For my last two years of school we were inseparable. We lived together the last year, and decided to marry as soon as I graduated. Both of us came from poor families, and knew that once married, we'd be on our own financially. We were madly in love, and got married that June. Shyamala was accepted to a Masters Degree program at Mumbai University and I joined the family business. We moved in with my parents to save on living cost. In 1987, jobs were not easy to come by, and I scoured the papers every day, worked with employment agencies, and went on many interviews, to no avail. As September approached, we were starting to get very concerned about money.
One day Shyamala noticed an ad in the “Mumbai Mirror” newspaper for Lingerie Models. We discussed what this meant, and thought that here was an opportunity for her to make some serious bucks as a part time model, after she had the good looks, figure and fair complexion for it. We both thought she'd be doing some print ads for newspapers or magazines. Boy were we na?? Here is what happened on Shyamala's interview, as she told me some months later. She had to go to a bad part of downtown Mumbai, in the Dharavi slums, to a club that advertised "Photograph Live Models".
Once inside, a tough looking Black guy named Ed said he was the manager, and beckoned her to come back to his office for the interview. Ed explained that in this club, guys came in and paid to take sexy pictures of the models. He told her "upfront" that any "extras" the models did, were their own business, he just wanted 20% off the top. Shyamala had no idea what he was talking about, but didn't want to turn down the job, we needed the money.
Ed went on to say that he'd have to see her in several outfits, take some Polaroids, to make sure she'd be okay for this job. He sent her off to the bathroom of his office, with a very skimpily red outfit.
After changing into it Shyamala came out, very shy, but she stood in front of him for the pictures. Ed explained that the pictures always came out better if the models were slicked down with Vaseline. So he moved close to her and started to rub Vaseline from a jar on her arms and legs. She felt his hand go into the waistband of her panties, and felt him gently feel her boobs and ass when his hands were in those regions of her scantily clad body. But because he didn't say anything, Shyamala assumed this was innocent touching as he applied the Vaseline.
Ed took a few more pictures, and had her change into three or four different outfits. The last item he gave her was a black see through dress without panties and matching Pierre Cardin shoes. She had only seen the name Pierre Cardin in glossy fashion magazines and never thought of wearing them one day! Shyamala was reluctant, but he promised he'd just shoot pictures above the waist, and below her chin, but needed to see her in the whole outfit.
Again Shyamala went along with the program. He had her sitting on a bar stool for more pictures, and moved in for a close up of her face. As he stood there, he suddenly put his free hand on her pussy, and inserted a finger before she knew what was happening. Shyamala said she pulled away, and told him to stop. Ed said, "I thought you might be a racist, I wouldn't hire anyone that hates Black people. I just wanted to see how you'd react. Most of my customers are Black men, who paid very well.”
Shyamala told him that race had nothing to do with, that she was married, that she would never cheat on her husband. Ed said he didn't believe her, and he bet she'd never in her life even kissed a Black man. Shyamala admitted that she hadn't, and with pressure from Ed, agreed to kiss him, just to show that she wasn't a racist.
Ed put his arms around her, and kissed her open mouthed. At first Shyamala said she kept her lips together, but slowly opened up, and let him put his tongue in her mouth. The kiss lasted a long time, and Ed began to finger her pussy again as they kissed. This time she didn't stop him, she wasn't sure how to react. She wanted that job and his kissing and fingering were making Shyamala more aroused than she thought possible with a strange man. As Shyamala later told me, they ended up making love in his office for over an hour. When she left she had the job and an advance on her first weeks pay. Shyamala claimed the next day she was determined to let Ed know the sex was a one-time thing, and that she would not let it happen again.
Poor girl, she still didn't know that her job was all about sex. The next day Ed greeted her and introduced her to Honey, a Turkish girl, who would show her the ropes. As Honey reviewed the charges for the "Extras", Shyamala discovered that the photographers were really there for sex. However she didn't say anything. After a while Ed came in to ask her if she understood what the job was all about. When she said she thought so.
Ed said, "Okay then give me a blow job, so I can see your technique."
I guess she paused at first, but Honey took her hand, as Ed sat in a chair, and they both got on their knees in front of him. Honey talked about ways to get guys to come quick, as she guided Shyamala through the blowjob. When Ed came in her mouth, Honey turned Shyamala's head towards her, and kissed her, sucking the cum from her mouth. So there were two new experiences, blowing a Black guy, and French kissing another woman... life was changing fast, she thought to herself.
And so Shyamala became a working girl. I never knew what was going on; she was very vague about her work. All I knew was that our money problems were over, and my beautiful wife was happy all the time. It might have gone on like that until she graduated, but one night I decided to leave the shop early and visit Shyamala at work.
As I got to the place, I was uneasy, for I did have some idea of what this was all about. I went in and was greeted by a woman in a totally see-through outfit. I asked to see Shyamala, and was told she's booked for the next hour, "Let me show you pictures of some of our other models." Enraged, I pushed past her, through a curtained doorway, and yelled Shyamala's name. A guy (turned out to be Ed) tackled me, and had me on the ground within seconds. I yelled, "I want to see my wife now!!!!!"
I looked up to see a naked Shyamala peeking out of a room.
Ed turned to her and said, "Finish your job, just come to my office when you're done." She gave me a scared look, but went back in the room and shut the door, her ass looked very round, I had never seen then like that before.
Ed then got me up and walked me back to his office, holding my arm in a hammerlock behind my back. Once in his office, he told me to sit down and be quiet, or else he's kick my Indian ass till I bled.
Ed told me that Shyamala worked for him, and that he controlled that part of her life. He told me she was a good money maker and his personal toy when she was in his place. "I don't care what she does with you," he said, "but you will not interfere with my business." At that point Shyamala came into the room wearing only a sheer see-through robe, beautifully decorated feet with exquisite henna, she walked bare footed.
He told her that he was just explaining to me about the way things worked, and now he intended to show me. "Take off that robe!" he commanded her.
As my beautiful wife stood before me, naked, next to this mean looking Black guy, he squeezed one of her tits, and said, "See these, I own them now." He took a finger and literally jammed it up her pussy, saying, "This is mine too."
Shyamala just stood there, but when he removed his finger from her pussy, and put it in her mouth she sucked it like she loved it.
At this point, Ed told me to get out, and never to come back to his place again, unless I wanted to be a paying customer. Shyamala just looked at me sadly, but never said a word. As I got up to leave, Ed said, "Wait a second." Then he said, "Shyamala, show your husband how you love my big Black cock."
Without any hesitation, Shyamala fumbled with his pants, pulled out his massive Black cock, and started to suck him off. I wanted to leave, but couldn't resist looking, and so I stayed and watched, until he pulled her onto his cock and shoved his massive cock into her ass, she squirmed as if she was loving it…..or pretending to. When it was over, I left without a word. What a humiliation???
That night, Shyamala came home and told me the whole story. She told me that while at first, she did it out of fear and the need to earn money, now she loved Ed, and loved the job too. She went on to tell me that if I went along with things, the money would be good, and she'd take care of me sexually whenever I wanted. But she also said that she had fallen in love with Ed, and would never stop pleasing him whenever he wanted.
As I said, money was tight, and I was young, so I agreed that things would go on as they were. They would have probably, but as you can guess things changed.
My sweet innocent Shyamala became more of a slut every day. With me, she was always bringing new things into the bedroom. She would French kiss my asshole, lick out my pee hole after I urinated, play with giant vibrators in front of me, and hardly ever wore any clothes at home in our room
One night we ordered pizza, and she wanted me to watch; she said it would be free tonight.
I stayed behind the bedroom door, and watched my wife give an unprotected blow job to this pimple faced, teenage delivery boy instead of paying for the pizza. It wasn't to save the money, she just wanted the adventure.
Another time, four of my friends, three guys and a girl were over for an audit of the shop’s accounts when Shyamala returned from work. She excused herself, and went into the bedroom, but came out five minutes later nude. She said, "Let’s have an old fashioned orgy," and she turned to my friend Rupali, my chief accountant, and said, "Come on, we can handle these four guys." Rupali freaked out and bolted, so Shyamala turned to me, and said, "You don't mind if I fuck your buddies do you?"
When I didn't say anything right away, Shyamala went over to the first guy and started to deep kiss him. Again, I couldn't stop watching as my wife, fucked and sucked all three of my friends.
The marriage lasted for about another six months. It ended, not because I couldn't handle things, but because Shyamala stopped coming home for days at a time. When I finally got the chance to ask her what was going on, she told me she'd become a "cum slave" for a group of Ed's friends, and that was now her first priority. Since I was at a loss for words, she gave me a video to watch. The video showed her with six black guys. It was two hours long and it showed Shyamala servicing these men, one at a time, or in different combinations. She told me that this video was going to be sold in stores in Europe, and that it was the first of many she'd be starring in.
All of this was about eight years ago. I moved on with my life, re-married Meenakumari, a hairdresser. I lost track of Shyamala, and after the divorce was final, I never saw her again. The last day in court, she sat not with her lawyer, but with this Black guy, and made out whenever the judge wasn't in the room. As we left, she asked me if I wanted one final alimony payment. With that, she pulled me into the men's room, and gave her Black friend a blowjob, which I watched along with about five other men in the toilet. When she was done she kissed my cheek then disappeared from my life.
I guess the one final confession I have to make, is that I kept the video Shyamala had given me. And to this day whenever I want to get really turned on, I'll play that video, and it never fails to get me off. Sometimes I just masturbate to it, but many times I watch it before joining my wife it bed. On those times, she never fails to say, "What got into you tonight, you're a wild man." So in a way, Shyamala helped to keep my marriage exciting.
However, it has become an addiction. If Meenakumari is in the living room, or we had visitors, and I was unable to get an erection, I found it impossible to satisfy Meenakumari. At that point, she has to resort to masturbation. She has found that a cob of corn is conducive for masturbation; its roughness stimulates her clitoris best.
After she reached her orgasm using the cob of corn, I usually roast it on the gas stove, and ate it. So we can both enjoy the cob of corn. We were never out of corn in our house. In fact Meenakumari would ensure that she brought home two cobs every day from work!!! I noticed that the cobs were getting bigger and bigger, but never questioned why. I assumed that she was going for “value for money.”
In 1996, I contracted a drug resistant form of Tuberculosis, and succumbed to the disease six months later. As I narrate this story to my friend and confidant Mohan, I have a matter of hours remaining to live. “My friend Mohan, after I’ve departed this life, please feel free to publish it.” I coughed, and gasped for breath then continued.
“I told Meenakumari that she was free to remarry after I had expired, if you can help her to find a life’s partner, please do so for my sake. Please do not say that I died of TB, or else nobody will want to marry her. Say that I died from alcohol abuse.” Still coughing, and wheezing, the voice getting noticeably weaker, Mohanlal continued, “I was told that Shyamala was taken to Cape Town in South Africa by Ed where she was making interracial porn videos, very explicit ones, of her having sex with primitive Black men.”
After Mohanlal’s cremation, friends and family gathered at the family home. Obviously, attention was focused on Shyamala. It was revealed that Shyamala told her friend Girly that as soon as she had made enough money, she was going to return to Mumbai, and live a religious life.
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