My name is Pramila. I am an Indian. I am now 36 year old and presently stay in a small town in an African country with my husband. I do not have any kids as my husband has problem with pre-ejaculation and low sperm-count. I have been married for last 16 years and have always been faithful to my husband though he has never satisfied me sexually. But he loves me so much that I could never think of cheating him.

I have always stayed in India and it was only last year that we came to this small town, in an African country. My husband was working with a mobile phone company in India and he was transferred to this remote small town where we do not know anyone. My husband agreed to take this transfer because he was offered a six-figure salary and also because we did not have kids we had the least hassle. But the condition was that he had to live in this town for a minimum of three years.

So we packed our bags and left for Africa for three years. On arriving at the airport I was surprised and depressed to learn that most of the local people there were blacks. They were tall, strong and muscular but they were absolutely black and they were ugly to look at with thick wide lips and funky smelling bodies.

I told my husband that it would be difficult for me to adjust to this new place which was full of black people. Anyway we managed to reach our new house allotted to us by the mobile company for which my husband worked. Our new house was situated inside the office complex. There were about 20-30 row houses inside the complex out of which we were allotted one.

After settling down my husband asked me whether he could make love to me. We went to our bedroom and he took out his penis from his trousers without getting naked and asked me to open my salwaar. Since I was tired too, from the visit I just loosened the salwaar and without opening my panty, I lied on the bed. My husband then pushed my panty aside and immediately entered me. After a few thrust in and out for about a minute he ejaculated inside me. That was all.

Since the time we had been married this was all I got from my husband. A few thrust not lasting for more than a minute and then ejaculation. I had taken resort to masturbation and everyday before I took my bath I played with myself and had a somewhat satisfying climax. Since my husband was not interested in my body, as much as I had wanted, I took less and less care of it as time passed.

Even so, I have a good figure (34 29 36) and I am very beautiful. I have a very fair skin and people in India used to mistake me for someone from England. I had a thick bush of hair on my armpits and also on my vagina since no one bothered to admire my body. I did not take pains to shave them or trim them.

Before I took my bath I played a little bit with myself using a hairbrush or just my fingers or sometimes cucumber or a banana usually fantasizing about bollywood actors or other handsome males I had met on office parties. I would think about how they would make love to me for hours and about how big their tool would be tearing me apart and how they would make me pregnant again and again. But this was my little world and I would never utter a word about this to anyone.

In about two to three days time things started settling down. On the fourth day of my arrival I went to the grocery supermarket there. I saw all black people, males and females of all ages roaming inside the store. Oh how much I hated these black people. Not because I have anything against them or because I don’t have respect for them. I hated them because of their ugliness and also because of the funky smell coming from their bodies.

To my surprise I found all the black men ogling at me. Maybe because I was new there or because I was an attractive woman. It never struck me that they were watching me because I was a white married rich housewife. These black men were all working for the same company and I found it odd that they watched me in a sexual manner. They were about four of them aged about 35-45 and they watched me intently, their eyes resting on my breasts and my back. I was wearing a salwaar suit and in hurry I had forgotten to carry the chunni.

I took what I wanted from the store and rushed back to my home.