Karim al-Zib - A Helpful Wife

Curt came into Harriett's receptive pussy and the rest of the party was not close behind. Moans, groans, and grunts filled the air. Sue was filled with Bernard's sperm and, panting, collapsed over his powerful, black form. Stud finally finished coming and backed off from Kim's uplifted ass.

The blond bride melted to the deck in exhaustion, the cooling air washing between her open thighs. Stud licked up the creamy sperm that bubbled from her gaping hole and then curled up in the V of her splayed legs, resting his big head contentedly on the buttocks of the girl he loved.

And for a long, long time, no one on the yacht said anything, and there was no motion other than the movements of deep breathing.

Everyone seemed to be asleep when the phone rang and a short time later Henry Manson came thundering out onto the deck, his belly shaking like jelly.

"Everybody up, quick! We've got to get off the boat!"

Ike rolled off the body of the girl he had been sleeping on and sat up.

"What's wrong?"

"They intercepted one of the transport boats," Manson wheezed. "There was a leak. The FBI is onto us. We've got to get off this yacht fast. The Coast Guard is on the way."

There was suddenly a general flurry of movement. Bernard had his pants on and was giving orders to the skipper and Big John was running about trying to find his regular clothes. Curt and Harriett came awake slowly and blindly followed the herd. Something was wrong and they knew they had to get away. The redheaded secretary helped him dress. Sue sat on the chaise, groggy, rubbing her eyes.

Kim lay as if dead, completely unaware of what was going on around her. Stud had raised his head and was watching all the activity carefully. Sue finally roused herself and went to Kim to get her moving, but the bull mastiff stood up and, straddling the blonde's supine form, held the brunette back, growling fiercely and baring his teeth.

The skipper was bringing the yacht around to run for the open sea and people were jumping into the motorboats as fast as they could. Sue ran to Bernard. "Bernard, I've got to get Kimmy off the yacht, but I can't get the dog away from her."

Bernard looked at the sleeping girl and shook his head. Then he smiled and turned to Ike, who was getting ready to board one of the boats. They locked themselves in conversation.

Meanwhile, Big John was trying to get his dog to follow him to get into one of the boats before the yacht departed. But Stud was quite unwilling to leave Kim and turned on his master, gashing the man's muscular forearm with a savage slash of his teeth. Big John howled and swore. The dog was worth thousands, trained as he was, and part of the act. The big man had no intention of losing him.

Bernard said to Ike Harvey, "We've lost millions on this trip, Ike. Millions!"

"Don't I know it," Ike groaned.

"I've got an idea," the African said. "It'll help pay off

the Angolans and the yacht and give us a piece of change for next time."

"Go on," Ike said, checking the horizon for the approaching Coast Guard ship.

"I know a place in North Africa where I can get a lot of money for this act," Bernard said.

"What act?"

Bernard Khumalo smiled. "The girl and the dog. She's worth a fortune herself. With the dog, she's really something special."

Ike nodded, loath to lose his favorite girl, but knowing that it would save a business relationship with the Africans. Then again, the whole thing had been shot when Curt Stevens had come and seen his wife in the act. Ike nodded again. It was best to give her to Khumalo.

"Films, live acts, and private entertainment. She's worth a million at least," Bernard said.

"Okay, good idea," Ike said. "You'll get in touch soon?"

"I'll let you know. We'll dump the rest of the ivory and you'll have to find a better way of landing the next shipment. Meantime, little Kim will keep us even."

"I'd better go then. What about Big John?"

Bernard smiled and went inside. In a moment he came out with an AK-47 assault rifle. He crossed the deck to where Big John was still trying, without success, to approach his pet.

"Get on the boat," Khumalo said quietly.

"But my dog!" Big John wailed. "I can't leave him."

"Ike will by you a new dog. Get on the boat." He pushed

the muzzle of the gun under Big John's chin. "Now."

Big John, one of the world's most pussillaniimous cowards, quailed and blubbered, then seeing the hard look in the African's eyes, turned and went to the ladder. He looked very unhappy as he went down to the boat, followed by Ike Harvey.

Harriett was dragging Curt to the ladder. He stopped short for a moment, staring hard at his young bride, who was coming slowly to consciousness. She tried to raise herself to her hands and knees, but Stud put his paw on her back and pushed her down. Curt smirked and, taking Harriett's hand, went with her to leave the boat.

"Filthy, dog-fucking slut," he muttered as he went down the ladder.

Sue was pulling on Bernard's arm. "Please help me get her into the boat," she cried.

The African shook his head. "She's staying. Doesn't look like there's any room in the boats for her."

"But I can't leave her here," Sue moaned.

Bernard slid his arm around her waist and gave her a

squeeze. "Why don't you stay? With me."

Sue looked up at the black man who so infatuated her. Stay with him? And his huge cock? Sue felt herself melting, going limp. "I'll stay with you, darling," she said. "As long as I don't have to leave Kim."

In a very short time, all three motorboats were running for the mainland, and Sue stood by Khumalo while the yacht ran full speed for the open sea, ultimate destination North Africa.

At the stern, a forlorn, tearful Kim Stevens, as naked as a newborn babe, watched the receding motorboats while Stud, the huge bull mastiff, stood at her side, her hand stroking his big, fierce, loving head.

Curt Stevens, feeling as if the world had finally come to his feet, carried his attache case toward the boarding area. In just hours he would be in Colombia. Harriett, his new live-in girlfriend, carried a bag of goodies they had bought in the shop for his flight. To Harriett, Curt seemed generally happy, although he had his brooding moments when Harriett knew he was thinking of Kim. No matter, she thought, Kim is gone forever. He's mine now, and I know how to treat him, in bed as well as out of bed.

Yes, Curt was still working for Ike Harvey. Being the honest, naive person he was, he had not blamed his boss for the corruption of his young bride. He actually seemed to feel grateful to Ike for having helped him find out what a "filthy slut" she was, and he usually seemed quite happy with Harriett.

He and Ike had become friendly, often lunched together, and the older man had finally come to the realization that Curt Stevens was a very good man to have around indeed. In fact, he had commissioned Curt to go to Colombia and arrange fifty kilos of cocaine for Khumalo's next trip.

Yes, from Harriett's point of view, things almost couldn't be better. Except for the nights when Curt cried in his sleep, groaning Kim's name.

Bernard Khumalo stood by the helm of his yacht, watching the western bulge of the African continent rise on the horizon. It had been a lovely trip, though not at all profitable. Before he approached the Angolans he would have to make a business call in Algeria, and then figure out a way of smuggling his goods with better success.

Down below in one of the cabins, he heard Sue moaning as she indulged herself with Bernard's two Mozambiquan assistants, Taubo and Philemon, those who had given Kim such a spectacular double-shagging at the Silver Towers a month before.

Kim was down below on the deck. She had a beautiful, all-over tan, inasmuch as she had worn no clothing on deck during the day since the day they had run from the Coast Guard. Khumalo had forbade her to wear anything during daylight hours. The penalty for disobedience was a withholding of food.