Date: Tue, 1 Jan 2013 00:48:02 -0800 (PST) From: pat roberts 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! philip_effiong@yahoo.com Don't forget Nifty relies on our financial contributions – please give a New Wear present to the service if you enjoy reading my stories!