Date: Tue, 1 Jan 2013 00:48:02 -0800 (PST)
From: pat roberts <philip_effiong@yahoo.com>
Subject: White Sunset 24

White Sunset  24


The Racial Retraining Department


Racial Retraining Cases: Mathieu Chagrin (Part 2)

Much of the following account, of events in Congo, has been based on
transcripts of interviews with the whiteboy Mathieu by a number of young
black volunteers, at the Racial Retraining Unit of his school, during the
first months of his stay. The facts were verified by Africa Resurgence
operatives. The RRU then had a few of their more senior volunteers put them
into a coherent narrative for the school archives. When the task was
finished the team of young blacks were appropriately rewarded with an
evening reception where Mathieu was called upon to service the entire
group.

* * *


Air France flight 2011 landed at Kinshasa Airport at 06.30.  Even at that
hour it was hot and sweaty. Mathieu quickly removed his sweater, revealing
his blue and white tank top. He was still sleepy from the flight,
unsurprising in view of the cocktail of sedatives, and delayed-action
sexual stimulants he had been given by his Papa's driver just before
departure in Paris.

He had woken up only on the descent, and with a raging hard-on in his
jeans. Doing what he had been told to, he had taken the second dose of
pills, washed down with his Evian water, when they landed.  Anti malarials,
he had been told, and the second dose is essential to ward off sickness.

He presented his papers at immigration and was pleasantly surprised to be
taken out of the chaos and bustle into a private room. He wasn't ever going
to know it, but from the moment he left the Air France plane he was in the
hands of Resurgence Africa, whose local operatives had been busy.  Airport
security, immigration and customs officials had been briefed and bribed to
hand him over to the school transport nicely softened up, humiliated to the
hilt, but undamaged.  They didn't want the boy running off to the embassy
or anything silly like that

If Mathieu was pleased to be pulled out of the long line, by a smiling
young immigration officer, he was less happy when two uniformed customs
officials entered the room and told him they had to strip search him for
suspected drugs. When he refused to co-operate, and demanded to know
whether "they knew who he was" they backed off.  Someone opened up the
double doors to the outer office, and left them open wide. Two more junior
uniformed young men were called in and held him as, starting with his shoes
and socks, he was quickly stripped to his underpants, despite his protests
and struggles.  At the same time the second dose of drugs kicked in, making
him woozy and incredibly horny at he same time. They laughed at his erect
cock and one of the young men cheekily pinched the top of it through the
white cotton of his Calvin Klein underpants.. The rest of his clothes were
taken away, out of the room, "for analysis" . He was never to see them
again. His hands were placed in strong metal cuffs, behind his back.

"Purely routine" one officer told him "they will be removed after your
inspection."

One of the more senior officers came in and felt and patted him all over,
including under his white briefs. The black officer was genuinely attracted
by the blond boy and this was a perk of the job. Mathieu watched as he
called over a big-titted black girl in customs uniform, and stood back.  He
did so with pleasurable anticipation, ready to watch what would happen. The
girl's soft sensual touch had exactly the desired effect, and her gentle
kind voice excited the near-naked Mathieu, for whom now being exposed in
public as he was, being assessed, examined and appraised, his sexually
aroused whiteboy body the subject of whispered comments and giggles from
the watching Africans, just made his cock even harder.  The white boy's
underwear tented alarmingly, and a small wet patch had appeared on the
front, to sniggers from the watching black male officers.

Air travel always made Mathieu horny, as did mornings, but this was
something out of the ordinary. Of course he hadn't jacked off, but still he
had rarely felt so sexed-up.  He normally spent the first half an hour of
every morning carressing his surprisingly large and ever demanding
cock. The carressing hands of the heavily titted African girl were working
on fertile ground. She gently stroked the boys thighs, his stomach, his
chest and nipples, and down his strong white back, under his expensive
white cotton underpants, to his soft warm butt.  Mathieu closed his eyes to
savour the moment that Big Tits' hands would close on his turgid cock.

The senior officer signalled to one of his juniors who, bringing a textile
shearing scissors, quickly cut away the underwear from the elastic to his
thighs. The white cock sprang free, the remnants of the Calvins were thrown
in the wastebin and, as Mathieu opened his eyes, he was pushed to bend
over.  Officer "Big Tits" left the room.

"Search the white boy's body cavities in the usual way! And don't miss
anything!"  said the senior officer, slapping the white naked rump and
exiting the room. He left the double doors wide open.

Mathieu found himself upended over the table on his back, his legs pushed
apart, as a number of African fingers eagerly explored his white ass.
Through the open doors people looked in to watch. Mathieu looked at them in
shame, but he felt woozy and unable to put up a fight. He was though
concerned at the lubrication and frequent invasion of his ass by those
probing fingers.

Suddenly he felt overcome by lust, and very woozy; the drugs had kicked in
again. He realised he was being inspected and evaluated by new
visitors. They had formed a line! Almost all seemed to be African men, he
could see only one girl, and she wasn't "Big Tits". None of them were over
their mid-twenties - and most were in uniform; customs officers,
immigration, police, security, soldiers, even staff of the local Air Congo.
The room overflowed with vocal spectators.  It was like a market, that what
it was, he thought.  A meat market, and I'm the meat.

Then something of a dispute seemed to break out. Where was the boy's bag?
No-one seemed to know.  Who had taken it?  There was pandemonium, but in
the middle of it all, Mathieu was still on his back, his legs being held
now over his head, and still being fingered up the ass, though the fingers
seemed to change ever more frequently. Almost all now seemed to be finger
fucking him rather than searching for extraneous objects, indeed he felt
several extraneous objects being inserted. He gasped and groaned and
protested loudly, trying to struggle free and looking around for someone
who could help him. He saw only fascinated faces.  He focussed on a young
soldier, probably no older than him, and could see real concern in his
boyish young face.

"Please Sir, help me Sir!!" said Mathieu.  The boy gave him a radiant
encouraging smile as he came over to him. Then he pulled on the white balls
and squeezed.

They put him into a small pair of black briefs, which one officer must have
found.. They were not his, and obviously had belonged to a much smaller
boy.  They managed to get his erect cock inside, but the effect was even
more startling than nakedness. From the front obviously, but also from
behind where a lot of his white crack was showing. One of the officers
bared the right cheek and stamped "Cleared by Customs, Kinshasa" on it. He
wrote in the date with a Permanent Marker and signed it.

Then he was being led away, his hands still in cuffs behind his back, his
white cock worryingly still erect. He was told in a casual way that a more
detailed examination by Security, was needed, and for that he needed to be
passed through the airport's main baggage scanner. The arriving passengers
had all by now been processed and left, and the airport was relatively
quiet. Local businessmen army and police officers however were taking local
flights as the near- naked Mathieu, led by the two young customs officers
holding his arms, was walked through the arrivals hall, the baggage
collection area, and into the departure lounge.

By this time Mathieu's retinue of followers had grown considerably.  His
handlers seemed in no hurry, stopping to chat here and there to the more
curious. It seemed that they thought he was an exposed drug mule. Exposed
in every sense.  One of the police yanked down his hopelessly inadequate
briefs, and slapped him hard, three times, on his butt.  Then the little
group left the departure lounge and took a back exit into a deserted parade
of duty free shops.

Naturally the customs officers were on good terms with all the shop owners
and employees. They window shopped and chatted happily as the whiteboy was
admired and examined by a new crowd.  Outside the Benghazi Bazaar and Curio
Emporium two young Arabs were looking after the shop; they sat lounging
outside, in tight jeans with their legs spread, smoking a hookah. They were
most interested in Mathieu, and persuaded his handlers that, like all white
travellers, he would want to look at their wares.

Shooing away the crowd the customs men settled down for a free coffee at
the front of the shop while the near-naked Mathieu, his hands still cuffed
behind him, was shown inside by the two Arab youths. For a few minutes they
showed him interesting artefacts, in the sweaty heat of the airport, the
air con having apparently been turned off as no more flights were expected.
As they wandered through the shop they made short work of the black briefs,
removed them, and felt his naked butt. Mathieus's protests were totally
ignored, and anyway the drugs kicked in yet again. They made him want to be
exhibited, examined, used. Anything, just to shoot off!  One fiddled with
his dripping cock and balls, whilst the other put two fingers in and out of
the whiteboy's mouth, ruffled through his curly brown hair, then pushed him
to his knees.  With a few slaps they persuaded him to suck their thick dark
cocks. In full rut they pulled him roughly on to their cocks, despite
gurgled protests, until both had shot their loads of young Arab cum over
his face.

They quickly zipped up, pushed some of the cum into his mouth calling him a
"fucking white slut!". They delivered him back to his minders with his
tenuous pants pulled back up, with their juice still dripping from his
chin. He didn't understand what they said to the customs guys, but it
caused a lot of laughter.

* *

They walked on down the small Mall, past more shops, through another back
entrance, down two corridors and into the Goods Outwards section.

Mathieu hoped his ordeal was over, but no. He was strapped on to a beltway,
the briefs were cut off, and then he passed through the baggage
scanner. The X Ray hadn't worked for years but that wasn't known by the
terrified boy.  He trundled naked through the scanner and emerged the other
side. He was then tagged at the cock, and parceled up in twine by a bunch
of playful soldiers, his cuffs removed, and bundled on to a long, moving
baggage carousel. Around the room he travelled, as the young soldiers
laughed. Then out of the room he went, through a wall, where he was to be
collected.


Collection by the school driver and assistant happened straight off the
carousel in the large totally empty hall.  Mathieu thought he was saved,
and began to recount the unbelievable and scandalous treatment he had
received at the airport, expecting sympathy and assistance from the
school's representatives.  They paid no attention at all to what he was
saying, other than for the driver to shrug his shoulders and say

"This is Africa, Boy! You better get used to it!"

 The boy's erect dripping nakedness was partially covered by a black
loincloth, leaving his stamped butt naked.

"It's all we have with us" the driver responded to Mathieu's further
outraged protests "You could stay naked if you prefer?"

 Then it was a short walk outside in the car-park, into the front of a
University pick-up for a six hour journey ahead, squeezed between the
driver and his young asistant.

The journey was long and uneventful excepting the frequent road blocks. The
assistant kept his hand on Mathieu's thigh, and gently stroked it from time
to time, causing the loincloth to slip off the hardening white cock. Three
or four times the black boy and the driver squeezed the white cock and
yanked on it until Mathieu's groans indicated he was near coming, then
stopped with a laugh. They joked together in their language until they
arrived at the next block.

The police and military road blocks were money making ventures and always
had been.  The officers had all been bribed on the way down, and played
their part nicely in getting Mathieu thoroughly probed and examined.  Each
time several spread his butt for a communal examination, fingering his
white ass and lifting his little loincloth to view the white cock beneath.

* *

He arrived at his future school exhausted, sore, near-naked and with not a
stitch to his name.

He was shown immediately, by the driver, to the Principal's office, and
told to stand outside.  He would be called in, he was told, when the
Principal is ready for him.  Passing schoolboys, dressed just as in the
brochure he had seen for the first time just two days before, stopped and
looked at him with interest as they stroked the front of their tight khaki
shorts....


That's the end of Part 2 of Mathieu's African adventure.  Let me know what
you think about it and how you want things to develop!


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