Yes, Ugandans can and do rape

It was the wee hours of the morning in the southern part of Kampala, near the slums of Ndeeba.
Julia was sleeping, more or less soundly, in the cell she was sharing with Audrey and Samantha, who had gone to sleep wearing her cum-splattered glasses. Their cell was reeking male hormones and semen along with their own urine.
Julia was having a sweet-to-nightmare dream; at least she was sleeping, covered with the crude, yet fresh prison uniform they had given her and her misfortune companions.
Julia vaguely remembered some burly guard making an allusion to the movie Terminator. “We’ll be back!” were his words.
She was dreaming she was playing golf in Scotland. As she stood near a pond in the act of taking her 2 Iron for a long shot toward the large green waiting for her some 170 yards away, a large crocodile with black skin sprung out of the water and grabbed her in his jaws while a big, low-bass voice yelled, “Uuugaandhaa!”
Some gigantic dark hand came out of nowhere and ripped off her 7-Up tee-shirt, allowing her to feel the breeze directly on her exposed tits while the crocodile started pulling her by the legs toward the suddenly dark pond.
Audrey was crying her heart out and unable to sleep; she knew her father was an avid consumer of porn and she was extremely worried about those vids the guards had shot of her African “adventures”. What if… What if the degrading footage found its way to PornHub? At least she was of age, although she often got ID’d in clubs and pubs. But her father… Her uncles… Ibrahim, her father’s best friend, but then…
Then, as Audrey pictured herself starring on PornHub amid a pack of Ugandan prison guards, amid a forest of black cocks, she pictured Ibrahim jerking off to her, jerking off and grunting amid his large silver beard until he cummed hard and uttered her name… Audrey was wet now.
Samantha had just fallen asleep, at last, reverting to a thumb-in-mouth state. She was beginning to dream she was home and safe and still a virgin, when she was awaken by Audrey’s squeals of desperate terror… heavy footsteps were getting worryingly close.
“Oh no! Nooo! They’re back!!! Aaaah aaaaaa…” Audrey squealed, still wet from thinking of Ibrahim.
“Ahh, come on Audrey! Let me sleep!” Julia snapped.
The neon lights were brutally turned on.
“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauties!” Inspector Bazil shouted at the British girls.
The tall officer wore a white tank-top that showcased his warm mud-brown skin and his muscular build. He was followed by seven or eight prison guards, all wearing that same white tank-top and those same camouflage fatigues. They could all be pictured on top of an article entitled “Why Inmates Are So Fucking Jacked”. They had thick arms and dark skin that looked polished-bright under the crude neons.
Three or four of those men had salt-and-pepper hair, and no beer bellies; any girl could see they were well toned; they clearly trained a lot. Audrey saw them and couldn’t keep something within her from wanting to taste their old man’s cock inside her teenage mouth.
“Time to get gang-fucked again, British sluts! Are you ready?” one of the older men crudely said.
That slutty something within Audrey almost made her say “Yes!” She felt so confused, so exhausted. Then, she noticed the iPhones that two of the men were holding; Ibrahim… He was going to watch her getting gang-fucked by Ugandans on PornHub!
Three men rushed at Julia’s bunk and grabbed her!
“Aaahhhh! Naaaooo! Noo! Noooo! No! Please, dddooon’t!!!” Julia cried and wailed, NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOO PLEEEEEEEEZZEEEE…NNNAAAAHHAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
Her arms were restrained tightly, yet desperately trying to flail, her lithe figure wriggling and trying to jerk her limbs out of their grasp as they lost no time and immediately ripped her grey shirt off, making a crude show of her sweet tits under the neon, as they pinned her shoulders on the bunk and mercilessly pulled her prison trousers down her silky hips and legs, then past her sweet little feet. Men commented on the silky texture of her hair as they ran their hands in it, telling her they knew how to appreciate a girl.
They were especially fond of that delicate bush of brown hair that proudly carpeted Julia’s pussy mound. It was offered in plain dancing sight under the neons, on top of her wriggling lap…
“Nnnoooo! Stop this! You cunts!” the British student yelled with tears in her eyes as she felt an increasing rush of pleasure forced upon her bosom and sex as Ugandan hands weighed heavily, yet sweetly down on her in those highly sensitive regions.
“Aaahhh… I had already forgotten how soft her little tits truly are! I’m gonna fuck her good again!”
“Did you miss us, honey?”
Samantha’s screams were filling the dingy cell as she violently shook her head, her long hair following her silent protests in rushed waves of chestnut silk, crudely alive and fully lighted under that sickening neon light, as Inspector Bazil told her he couldn’t wait to be inside her.
Basil violently shook Samantha, the 90-pound girl, by the shoulders, on her bunk, as she kept protesting, “Plea… ea… eaz… ze… St… Oo—oo… ph… This! … Aaahh aaaa aaa aaaa … Noo oooo… St… oopp!”
Two older men looked on as they lowered their camouflage fatigues and started masturbating while taunting little Samantha and telling her how badly all British girls wanted to get filled up by big African cocks. And this was why she had come to Uganda in the first place!
“Oh shit! Look at her, Jamal! She looks so innocent! I’m gonna explode like an erupting Moloch!”
“Yeah! Let’s see how white her butt really is! I’m not sure if I can remember that right! I’m so used to our own dark girls…”
“She’s such a piece of ass!”
After some time of build-up and anticipation while he kept shaking little Samantha, Inspector Basil grabbed and ripped open her prison shirt, baring her small tits, uttering a loud groan of pure satisfaction as he saw the jiggling display of her juicy mounds and the delicate buds of her pale, fading nipples and areolas…
“Hey you, stop staring and hold her arms!” Basil ordered one of the two nearby men as he ragingly pulled the sobbing girl’s prison trousers down her skinny legs, uncovering all of her milky beauty and spotting the surprisingly thick carpet of her brown hair. It formed a wide triangle that covered all the vee between her legs.
“I think we’ll need to shave that lawn, but later!” the Inspector said. “First, girl, you need some more of that Ugandan coffee!”
Samantha screamed and begged as the other man restrained her arms atop her shaking head while Basil pinched one of her nipples and ordered her to spread out her legs for him, which she did, too scared and fatigued to think of defying his commands.
Basil already had his respectable erection out and pointing at the leftist student. He laid himself down on her and pushed, feeling a wild jolt of elation as he slid inside the sweet resistance within her. He pushed! Hard! “Hhuuhh!!!”, grunting like a mad gorilla as he thought this time, she felt perhaps even better than the time before.
While Samantha shrieked out in pain, Audrey had been urgently stripped naked, her prison uniform made short work of, and she fought a losing battle against her aroused body while the older men licked her tits, then her legs, then her bottom, then started kissing her cunt while another man started rubbing something very soft against her feet; she suddenly realized this was his cock!
“Yeah! Hold her like this! On her stomach! With her lower legs up and her feet together! I’m gonna cum right there! Right there, oohh yeahh!!” uttered one of the elderly guards as he masturbated hard just above Audrey’s pair of feet.
That man would only fuck a white girl if she had black hair; he had already raped Audrey twice. Now his dick was too tired for a third rape, but he knew he could pressure-masturbate and still splatter a fine load. All on her feet! She looked like a Turkish dream with her jet-black hair intensifying the brightness of her olive skin.
The man masturbated and accelerated, contemplating the mind-boggling grace of Audrey’s butt curves… “Aaahhh, yeah! Ooh, this is good! Yeah!” he said, rubbing his jam-packed cock against the silky soft skin of her feet, so delightfully small and girly! With the delicate cushion of her heel tucked against the other one.
He kept masturbating, zealously, watching Julia on all fours, Eve-nude amid jeering men and getting powerfully raped doggy-style.
She too had an incredibly juicy pair of butt cheeks; her pale flesh looked so wonderful under a pair of Ugandan hands! The roundness of her butt curves kept fiercely colliding, smat-smat-smat-smat, against the sweating man, kneeling behind her. He had the bunk squeaking with the fury of his pounding victory over UK!
And the old negro opened his big mouth wide as he blissfully shot three thick jets of cum on Audrey’s feet, a most girly pair of UK-size-3 feet. He let himself utter a wild groan and watched his semen coat those wonderful teenage feet! Oh shit! This was so God’s-finger good!
After this, the old guard watched one of his fellows as he mounted Audrey by lying himself down over her backside as she still lay on her stomach.
That Ugandan made himself at home from behind, entering hard inside Audrey, forcing her to yell, “Ahhh! Naaoooo!!!” with blasting pain and a jolt of forced pleasure as he began to rape her from behind, his heavy frame covering the diminutive girl, dominating her as he soon found his rhythm, pounding the squealing girl into the cheap mattress.
As he supported his weight on his elbows, it weirdly looked as if he were protecting her from the neon lights, and he pounded her in long, heavy strokes that forced her to moan as she caught sight of the iPhone in the hand of a smiling Ugandan. Raped and filmed! Ibrahim… Her father’s friend… Nooo! He’s gonna see this!
The man grabbed her tits from behind as he kept raping her in the lazy doggystyle. He buried his face in her long hair and asked her, amid his grunting, if she liked being fucked by old men…
“Yes-uh-Noooo!” the moaning girl uttered. She was almost cooked down there. Railed like she never dreamed of! She had a sense that such a brutal rape could only happen in Africa. Use caution, Trip Advisor said.
And her rapist laughed amid his panting and grunting, along with the young man filming Audrey’s prison safari in Kampala.
Basil was kneeling and winning the fight against Samantha’s extra-tight vagina; he held her hips, keeping her buttocks clean off the bunk and kept thrusting hard between her legs as he finally gained entry and yelled his triumph…
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH… Now! Little bitch! Now! You’re screwed!”
And Basil raped the glass-wearing girl, enjoying her petite figure and her tight pussy with no holds barred!
Samantha was shaken, her little tits jiggling in tight and urgent motions when they were not violated by other hands, and she suddenly screamed, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH NAAAAOOOOOOOOooo Aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!”
Amid her profuse sweating, amid her shaking headache from her bobbing head, amid the nonstop pounding between her legs, Samantha realized she just hit a climax. Then she hit another one and the cell became suddenly loudly feminine; more so than at any other point in its sordid history.
A white girl was being gang-raped somewhere in the slums of Ndeeba. A part within her loved it.
***

Rachel Thompson was a British brunette who looked stunningly young and beautiful for her already 30 years of age. She was also stunningly highly praised as a journalist for her sixth sense for scoops. Already a seasoned reporter.
She was covering the student unrest in Kampala. When all hell broke loose that morning, she had narrowly escaped being arbitrarily arrested and put in the same truck where she had glanced at some white girls getting grabbed and thrown in the trunk with a group of Ugandan girls.
Rachel knew a foul game was afoot. Her instincts told her the military would strike at the students’ dormitory come evening as a means of intimidating and punishing them.
She had tried to learn where the British students were housed, but the principal kept shut as a clam. When she was in his office, the man kept lewdly staring at her blouse-covered bosom and always dodged her questions.
It took a while, but she threatened the principal with a lawsuit and bad rap, and he reluctantly gave her the requested information, but he had her escorted outside the premises as he said it was now almost 5 P.M. and a curfew was being enforced on the campus due to the unrest.
One of the soldiers escorting her even groped her butt, right in front of her cameraman. Rachel was used to those sorts of things happening to journalists in third-world countries, although it was rare, but today was different.
Rachel secretly felt aroused whenever some local randy touched her like that, although she did react and tell the man off.
“Don’t touch me! I have the press immunity!” she barked at the Ugandan soldier, who just grinned, very proudly so. Those men were just as unapologetic as white men used to be back in the 1950’s. In their own primal way, they were hot and virile. If an incel followed their lead, his sex life would improve.
Rachel often daydreamed of getting gang-fucked by foreign soldiers at some road checkpoint with her asshole cameraman watching. This was perhaps a secret reason why she later came back to the campus, defying the curfew, after unsuccessfully trying to reach the students. The Internet Wi-Fi service was out for some reason, and this made her even more suspicious. Losing communications was a sign of invasion.
After having a quick chicken dinner, Rachel and Frank her cameraman left their car parked near the checkpoint barring the entry to the campus.
She tried her luck and showed her journalist’s ID along with her British passport, and much to her surprise, the green-beret policemen let her in, but not her cameraman!
Frank begged her not to go into the troubled campus by herself, but nothing on earth would have made Rachel change her mind. It was nightfall as she bravely walked alone on the campus.
Under some scattered streetlamps, she walked the deserted alleys and found the accommodations building where the British students were housed. Rachel wanted to go and warn them against the danger, but what she saw stopped her. Three armed policemen were standing watch at the door!
They stood exactly where they could not be seen by the building’s occupants through the front windows. Through sheer luck, Rachel wasn’t spotted. She saw some bushes, and after making sure no cobra was lurking there, she sat there, out of sight and waited as the moon rose in the night sky.
When she saw the jeeps and the military truck pulling into sight with their headlights off, Rachel knew her instincts had been right once again. The Ugandan soldiers were coming! They were about to home-invade the accommodations building.
The soldiers, no less than fifty of them, got off their vehicles and rushed inside the building after a masked civilian unlocked the door for them. That chubby man gave Rachel a sense of déjà-vu. Couldn’t he be… More trucks were coming with more soldiers; she hid under the shrubs.
Before long, girls were screaming inside. They were screaming as if they were being eviscerated alive by the uniformed Ugandans. As if they were being…
Raped. Gang-raped.
With her heart racing like it would if a genuine werewolf were after her, Rachel emerged from her hiding place and quietly walked to the building, knowing all the men were inside and very busy. Very much aroused at the prospect of getting caught and added to those men’s basket of fun.
She went to the shadowy side of the building and found a small window. Hiding in that shadow on the side opposite to the moon, Rachel took a look inside, knowing she could see into the lighted room while she was hidden by darkness. What she saw horrified her and also made her crazy wet.
The Ugandans were gang-raping the British girls. Holding nothing back! Petrified, Rachel saw no less than eight or nine girls, grabbed by at least two men each as their clothes were being torn off while they kept frantically screaming, begging! Pale bosoms were suddenly white with light-brown nipples, bared, fresh and young and up for grabs amid the grinning Ugandans!
Rachel saw a girl in red pajamas; there were four or five negroes on her. Her screams pierced through the window as they ripped the top of her pajamas off her, uncovering her brown nipples atop the jiggling play of her tits! Bright olive skin to suck and lick and jerk off.
That girl was a brunette’s brunette; she looked Indian or Pakistani.
The London journalist quickly took her iPhone and started filming. Now that was a scoop! There was no Internet, but she still could use the video feature.
Rachel filmed the Pakistani girl’s gang-rape amid the orgy of rapes. The screams, the yelling and the hurrahs… It was all so loud! They kept her pinned down on the couch where two or three men took their turns inside her. Then, they flipped her around and started to doggy-style her. As her young head shook, her long raven hair followed in wild waves of shiny silk. She was a very beautiful girl indeed. Her naked butt was defiled and kneaded by Ugandans who raped her with their mouths wide open.
Rachel had no qualms in filming her. She was mostly filming her because she looked like a migrant. And when she’d publish images, she knew for a fact that this girl would be shamed for life. Better be her than a true British girl! Rachel would blur the faces, but not the Pakistani’s! This migrant deserved to be shown to the world as the slut she truly was.
Rachel remained there for no less than two hours; she only took a break to go pee near some bushes. A puff adder slithered not very far, but Rachel was always insanely lucky.
After gaining much footage, Rachel decided it was time to conclude a good shift of work. Time to leave! Maybe calling the embassy would be the right thing to do. But Rachel would first go to her hotel room and masturbate; she preferred her fingers to her cameraman.
Rachel left before the Ugandans started to force the British lads to fuck the British girls.
As she walked and got close to the only exit to that fenced campus, Rachel saw no one. How would she get those policemen to let her pass? Well, she’d use her mouth to pleasure them.
She would even let them fuck her, and she knew this would be good. After spending so much times filming the gang rapes, and seeing those big African cocks, Rachel felt all funny from head to toe. She could use a good session of thrashing. When she had first walked through that gate at nightfall, three or four men had stood there, but now, there couldn’t be more than two.
Actually, Rachel didn’t see a soul when she got there. She walked past the entryway and laughed. Why was she so lucky all the time? She then stopped laughing as she spotted something alarming that she ought to have thought of. A security camera pointing straight at her, like some ominous snake head.
Before she knew it, a beat-up police cruiser was right there with its rooftop lights on. The police cruiser braked right near Rachel, who started to run, but two uniformed men got out of the car and ran after her, while a second police car showed up and cut her off, braking in front of her. Its doors opened and out came two more Ugandan policemen.
Rachel screamed and protested in the strongest terms, claiming her journalistic immunity as the grinning men grabbed and started groping her. She went soaking wet under the shaking movements of her terror as two strong hands nearly crushed her breasts while other hands were tightly cupping her Bermuda-covered butt.
“No! Noooo! I’m a journalist! I have my immunity!” Rachel cried out.
“That’s good, English slut! So you will report your own rape! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Hey boss, let’s take her to the prison on the south side of the town! My brother’s working there and he says there are three Briton students over there! This one here is twenty-five years old already. Why settle for her when we can fuck some good teenage pussy?”
“That’s a fine idea! What do those girls look like?”
“Look! My embassy will be notified and you will regret…”
“Shut up, old slut!”
“I dunno what they look like. They are eighteen and they have a tight pussy. That’s all we need to know!”
As the policeman said those words, Samantha was still getting gang-raped inside her tight cunt on her prison bunk. The man stood and railed little Samantha while holding her slender hips while her shoulders supported most of her weight on her mattress, and another guard, now naked except for his white tank-top, was masturbating above her lovely little face. He presently exploded and blissfully painted Samantha’s glasses and cheeks with his tropical pudding, all this while Audrey was riding an older guard like a good cowgirl and Julia was having her mouth filled with Inspector Basil’s respectable cock.
Rachel was handcuffed and thrown onto the backseat of a cruiser. The two police cars drove off with their booty.
The British journalist began to panic as they took the highway and drove some way out of the town. After a few minutes, they branched out and drove some distance on a road that winded its way in a more and more secluded countryside. She panicked.
“Please! I have my journalistic immunity! Take me to my embassy and I swear to God I’ll say nothing! Please…”
There was only one logical reason why they would go there in the middle of the night.
Ignoring Rachel’s desperate pleas, the policemen pulled her from the cruiser. They pushed her around and took turns in slapping her.
“Not so proud now, eh! British slut! Take this!”
“Owww… Please! My immunity… Aahhaaaaaowww…”
“Oh! Now this is some serious fun! Let’s hear what the bitch sounds like when she’s getting fucked!”
Rachel’s scream of terror pierced the African night as the took her and rammed her against the hood of a police cruiser, which she hit hard with a bruise on her hips. OOOWWWW!!!
Her heart was racing into overdrive as she felt their hands on her butt and someone pulled her Bermudas down, brutally. She felt the hard pull at her waist, then the garment quickly slid down her buttocks and legs along with her panties and she suddenly felt the night’s cool breeze on her profaned butt.
“Wow! This is what I call a fine British stock! What a white ass!”
“Hey, boss! The bitch is 30! She’s so bloody old!”
“Later! Later! Now we need to try her out. She’s ready to be gang-fucked!”
“Nooo! Please! Nnooooo!”
“Shut up and enjoy, Cockney snob!”
As he spoke, the police Sergeant unzipped his uniform trousers and freed a monster cock! Rachel didn’t see it, but she did scream out like a banshee when she FELT it as the Sergeant brutally invaded her and began to rape her against the car, bent over the hood like a true slut.
The rape was urgent, incredibly intense and nothing but a brutal session of grunts where the onlookers restrained Rachel’s arms on the cruiser’s hood while the Sergeant was exerting himself to the utmost of his banging ability and the posh girl, still wearing her safari-style shirt, wailed and squealed under oceans of pain and lifted up by a rising tide of unstoppable female bliss thrown in the mix.
“This, uuhhh… Can’t be! I’m, uuhhh! Inviolate! Aaah I’m uhhh… My immun’tee… uuhhh! No… This… Preposterous!” Rachel blurted out as her head kept bobbing with her pretty face sliding on the hood of that Ugandan police car while the Sergeant let out a brutal scream of relief and shot urgent bolts of thick seed!
The most senior constable then took his turn. Rachel had more pain to endure, more squealing and chaotic protesting to do as that second man took his pleasure, giving it his best shot and trying to surpass the Sergeant in brutality, holding nothing back as Rachel got railed big time by a thick rod of African glory while the other men held her in the same bent-over position, the pale moons of her butt almost glowing in the night as the constable suddenly hit his jackpot and uttered the grossest form of grunting delight while Rachel squealed and moaned as she powerfully climaxed.
“Oh God! She’s quite a shag!” said the man as he exited her, smiling just as if he just won millions in the lottery.
The third man followed suit. He also raped her from behind. It looked like that car hood was going to keep the imprint of Rachel’s flattened breasts; as her cheek kept sliding on that surface, Rachel was shocked as the reality sank in; she was actually getting raped in some shit-hole country.
After the third man emptied his load, the fourth and last negro took Rachel and laid her down on the dirt, on the roadside next to the parked cruiser.
Straddling her, he ripped her safari shirt open, then swiftly grabbed and ripped off her bra to uncover the pale splendour of her tits.
“Whoo-oo-oooo! Now, that’s what I call a milky pair of British jugs!”
As he spoke, the man stooped down and began to kiss Rachel’s perky breasts, his tongue insisting on her nipples.
After a brief foreplay, the man impatiently lowered his trousers and went to serious work inside Rachel. She spent the next five minutes on her back with that young negro panting and sweating on top of her, and she was unable not to moan as he intensified the pace.
Rachel felt a diffuse sense of pride upon realizing how young that policeman was and what a powerful effect she was having on him. She surrendered and wrapped her legs around the horny man, who plowed her like there were no tomorrow and she realized she was barefoot, unable to remember when someone had undid and pulled off her hiking shoes.
The teenage-looking policeman twitched inside her and happily filled up the British journalist with Ugandan pudding.
“Aaahhhhhhhh! The white woman!!! London snob-eeeehhhghgh!” he blasted out of his wide-open mouth, covering Rachel’s face with slobber as he finished emptying his balls deep inside her.
“Remember us, bitch! We’re the ones who did this to you!”
Rachel lay down in a heap of confused exhaustion and polluted beauty, half-naked with her safari shirt wide-open on a pair of tits that looked like most men’s dream.
“All right boys! Let’s wrap up the UK bundle of fuck meat and take her lovely ass to the prison’s boss! We need to bring him that present to get back in his good books. You know he loves raping foreign journalists. Who doesn’t!” the Sergeant concluded.
TO BE CONTINUED.