Friday, November 18, 2011

Tribal sex - Gambian binbins go bumster on white bomsas

I had just touched down on the Gambian soil, and walked down the stairs of the airplane. Before me lay a dry land. My friend, Abi, rushed down the stairs in front of me. Her round hips swayed with every step, the thin cloth outlining her soft body. She never wore panties, she never let anyone tell her what to do, she always danced in her steps.

- Now I will show you the African women, she said. They are going to eat you alive, little calf.

She explained to me, how common it was for white ladies to come to Gambia to find a few bomsas, a few bumster boys, for holiday romances. Each little fling, she said, like a butterfly blowing in the wind, she said, smiling with a shiny, bright, snow-white smile.

- And now, little honey, I will do the same to you. I will have what the white ladies have. I will make tribal sex to you, little white boy.
I do not know what made her think this way. During our entire trip, she had been reading a ladies magazine, glancing my way from time to time, gently caressing the tribal scarification I knew she had on her belly. I had never seen the end of it; I just knew that it disappeared down below her navel.

- I was watching you, boy. I noticed your eyes resting on my belly. Naughty eyes between my thighs, ha, man. Bet you got real hard, huy, little boy. Watching my touch, touch scars.

She shook her body, did a little dance, and the string of beads she wore round her waits made a clicking noise.

- I’m going to put you down, boy… Make all kinds of nasty things to you. Just like the white ladies do with our men. Put all these binbins inside your bumbum, she said, slapping the string of beasts.

Then she laughed, and we got on a bus, heading for her native village.
A few hours later, we arrived. She was greeted by many of the men and women of her tribe. The cheered, hugged her. Many of the women wore colorful necklaces in many layers. Several of them were bare-breasted. The men hand muscles, and looked masculine and powerful, their dark skin glowing in the sun.

She said something, I could tell her female friends were looking at me, widened their eyes… let their looks slide from my head, down my chest and stopped between my legs. And then laughed. I still wonder what they were saying.

- Come now, little binbin, you’re going to treat us bush women well now, aren’t you? The girls are curious to get to know you.

She showed me to a wooden house. It was very inviting, with doors towards the inner yard of the little village, and windows on the back facing a little forest. I had time to unpack my bags, and get settled. There was nothing more than a wooden table and a hard bed, with a blanket on. I rested, and soon fell asleep.

Noices awoke me. It was Adi, she stood in the door. Bright lights shining behind her, made her curvy, voluptuous body form a breathtaking silhouette.

- Come now, boy. My friends are waiting for you!

She tore me out of bed, and dragged me through the door, across the village square, and into a large house. In the corner, a fire was throwing soft, warm light around the single room. There was a long, slightly rounded table, only a foot above the ground. Around the table were Adi’s friends. Six women, from late teens to, I guess, their forties. All except one of the women carried their breasts naked. The single teen wore a pink t-shirt. They were eating heartily from the table, and obviously in the middle of drinking from a large bottle of wine, shared between them. They looked up.

- Here he is, girls! Adi shouted merrily. Here’s your little bumboy!
They made room for both of us, and we joined in in the feast.

The drinks were strong, and it affected us all. The dishes were tasty. With each sip of the drinks, their gazes into my eyes lingered longer, the more luscious their bodies appeared to me, the more closely I studied their naked breasts, their brown, ripe nipples. They wore short skirts, covering their hips. Some of the women were sitting like tailors, legs crossed, some with their legs together, neatly put together next to them, and little Ms. Pinky was lying on the floor.

My look could not help but be drawn up their skirts. I tried to make out, what kind their underwear was like. I would not even know, the only woman from Gambia I’d ever known, was Adi. And she rarely wore underwear.

Opposite me, was Binta. She had clear eyes, living. She obviously noticed my eager looks. Almost in slow motion, she started parting her legs. Her skirt was lifted up. Slowly, she let her hand first rest on her thigh. A little higher. More so. Even higher. Until it rested gently on her crotch. Just meters from me. I looked around, to see the reactions of the others. No one seemed to take notice.

She started pushing with her fingers between her thighs. Looked me into the eyes. Stretched for a little round fruit, with the same hand, and slowly placed it between her lips. And let the hand slide down between her legs again. She seemed to disappear in her dreams and thoughts.

Suddenly, one of the older ladies, Daado, clapped her hands. The others listened up. She said, with a slight slur:

- Now, little bimbim, you must dance for us.

I felt how one of the girls next to me pulled my hand to make me stand up. She quickly undid the button in my trousers, and pulled them down. I found myself in my trunks, with an armless shirt. I was quite obviously aroused, so my trunks bulged out slightly.

The girls started laughing, clapping their hands, and started singing in a choir. I started swaying from side to side. I could feel their eyes follow every move, follow the lines of my body, evaluating the size of what was still hidden.

The girls also stood up, dancing around me in a circle. As by commando, they started moving in closer. Soon I could feel the warmth of their skin against my body. Soft breasts rubbing against my chest, against my back, and my arms. Their breaths, full of alcohol, close to my face. Someone was pushing her pelvis into me, then more. They pushed into me.

A hand, I don’t know by whom, started pulling down my trunks. Another unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. Hands moved in to caress my chest. Palms slid down my butt, squeezed my butt cheeks. Fingers gripped down my trunks, and carefully grasped my scrotum. A finger pushed in between my butt cheeks, and started whirling around my butt hole.

One of the girls, Yandeh, perhaps twenty five years of age, squatted in front of me. She grabbed my cock with her left hand, and slid her lips around the head of my penis. Someone licked my ear. Her tongue played with the soft skin. In the corner of my eyes, I noticed that Ms. Pink was still on the ground. She was watching us. Enjoying the view, while masturbating her pussy in front of us.

- This is tribal sex, bumboy, one whispered in my ear.

Yandeh’s tongue swirled around the sensitive nerve endings at the end of my shaft. Quite abruptly, my legs were pushed forward, my knees hit the ground. Yandeh slid down onto the floor, never letting go of my cock. The finger that had previously massaged my butt hole, was now suddenly replaced by a warm tongue. I was on all fours, with my cock in one lady’s mouth, with an eager tongue circling my anus.
Daado showed up in front of my face. She lifted her skirt and said:

- Now eat my cunnie, white boy. Lick it good!

Her pussy was completely shaven. It had a slightly manly musky odour that aroused me in an odd way. It was all creamy from liquid, and my face slid around between her pussy lips. She thrust her pussy into my face.

Kinti, a slender, very dark girl, sat across my back, legs firmly on the ground on each side. Her wet, very hairy pussy rubbed my back, made a wet trail all from my shoulders down to my butt. Her nails scratched my back, deep, painful. She squatted on top of me.

I heard a familiar voice from behind. It was Adi.

- I know you like it up your rear, cutie. Now you’ll get it from your good friend, like you’ve always wanted.

I was just starting to imagine what it could mean, when I felt a slightly cold sensation between my butt cheeks. There was something pointing to my anus. Something pushing. Something sticky. Something that started making its way inside me. I tried to turn around, but could see nothing but Kinti's body, breasts still pushing against my back, rubbing herself full of pleasure.

Adi was gently sliding a big dildo inside my butt. I could feel it expand me, making me feel vulnerable. Yandeh sucked my cock, bouncing her head up and down between my legs. Daado’s pussy got even more slippery and wet on my face, and she placed a hand on the back of my head to push my face deeper between her pussy lips.
My ears were being licked, and someone’s hand was slapping my left butt cheek firmly. Every part of my body was being used by these tribal women. I was their bimbim.

We all swayed together, like a large sex machine, oozing of sweat, liquid, juice, sex, oil, food, alcohol, humming, sighing, screams of pleasure, louder, harder, faster… Adi pushed harder and harder into me from behind, Kinti had started fiercely masturbating her pussy on my back, humping my arched back, Daado being close to coming by my tongue buried deep in her African vagina.

I could feel the familiar, lovely, intoxicating, splendorous twitching in my cock, the sexual energy and power starting to focus in one spot, building up, together with this horny tribe. They grunted, groaned, they used me for their pleasure. I was coming closer, closer, waves of pleasure splashing over me. More intense, a mountain of pleasure.

Then I came. I shot burst after burst of warm fluid down Kinti’s throat, filling her mouth. Dadoo’s wet pussy started twitching, moving from side to side, almost making it impossible for her to remain upright, as an orgasm shot up through her legs, and exploded in her vagina. Adi pushed deeper and deeper into my ass, knowing the feelings I would experience each time it hit my male spot. And Kinti, the little cunt, she saw how vulnerable I was, and I don’t know if it was an idea of the moment, or from being filled up with too many drinks, started peeing all over my back, a warm, tangy treacle of female pee run down my sides, down between my butt cheeks, spreading a dirty smell and feeling in the room. Then she too orgasmed, sitting on my back, falling over to lean completely on top of me.

I could not take it any more, and we all collapsed into a large pile, next to the dinner table. I was all surrounded and covered by beautiful Gambian tribal women, all messy, all happy.

The last thing before falling into dreamy sleep, were the eyes of little Ms Pink, who, having watched this orgy taking place from a little distance, enjoying every minute of sexual details, on the floor, closed her eyes as she clenched the hand between her thighs, biting her lip as wave after wave of teenage orgasm showered her body with warmth…

And we all slept.
Do you have own experiences of tribal pleasures, male or female, leave a comment below or get in touch on MSN or share your own tribal story with us via mail.


  1. This maybe a part of their culture. Tribal sex for some African tribes are just normal. Thanks for sharing your experience with us.

  2. In my opinion I prefer white men to men here, white men are more eager to please and I also like the contrast of our skins making me come easier with more pleasure

  3. Why would you ever choose, honey, when you can have both at once? That's for sure what I would do

  4. I would like to have had that man at my place!!

  5. his possibly a part of their society. Tribal sex for some African tribes are just typical. Much obliged concerning offering your experience to us, Escorts London.

  6. As a Gambia, I know that this is a blatant lie. Things like this don't happen anywhere in Gambia. That Gambia girls have sex with tourists, yes they do. This orgy is not cultural in any of the tribal groups. You are a master of creating fantasy.

  7. It's quite clear that this is a sexual fantasy, not an actual description of reality. But it is beautiful, nonetheless... As you say, a master of imagination!!