Day 4

Day 4 - Original - Girl Penis, Nigerian Prince(ss), Wedding Night, Deep Throat, Gentle Sex, and More!

Joel had more money than he knew what to do with and less than he actually needed.

About a year ago, he had quit his day job to try day trading full time. Confident (or cocky) from a successful set of trades during his last month working retail, with the extra security blanket that having six figures in his bank account for the first time gave him. Considering his family hadn't ever been what you'd call rich, that cockiness had felt at least a little deserved. He'd been doing well, too. Gotten those six very close to seven all while spending most of his time at home playing video games and ordering delivery for nine out of ten meals. Not only had he been surviving, he'd been thriving. At least part of that success had been down to him being smart. He hadn't put all his eggs into one basket, he'd diversified his holdings, done his due diligence on his trades. Bad luck came for everybody, of course, but if you didn't get out over your skis, you didn't get wiped out.

And then, the trade had happened. An earnings report for a total sham company whose value was entirely based on dumb apes and cult of personality. The projections had been that earnings would be a bloodbath, and in all fairness they had been. Joel had gotten greedy, the opportunity to 10x an investment of near a million dollars and instantly solve his financial situation for the next few years - not just months - had taken him in. Then the earnings report had happened and, bloodbath or no, the dumb money had won out. The stock didn't drop halfway to what he needed it to, and the day after, when the puts had expired, it had even gone up. That was how you lost a few hundred thousand in a day, you got greedy.

It didn't matter that he'd scraped together what money he had left and recovered a few thousand in the week since, the green line on his app didn't even show up if you expanded the time enough to include the red one. He'd gained back a toenail when the whole rest of the body had gone missing. It was enough that, over the course of a year or so, he could probably keep himself trading and make back some iota of what he'd lost. But he didn't think he'd ever be up at that high again. And worse, when you factored taxes into his incoming rent and other payments, he was about to get hammered. Hammered hard enough that he'd need to find another job, maybe even move back in with his parents. The humiliation of that, after the bragging he'd done about his gains, made him seriously consider tossing his toaster into his bath.

In that sulking state, Joel got the email. Of course, considering the nature of it, he very nearly scrolled past, but there were a few details and a few pictures that caught his humor and his eye, even if he scoffed.

"Dear Friend,

I have selected you for this matter because you seemed like an honest and trustworthy person. My late father, the 21st Shehu of the Borno Emirate who recently passed away, left a large sum of money that is to be my inheritance. However, I am stranded out of the country, and have recently had my international assets frozen due to international conflicts.

Additionally, by the laws of my people, I am barred from receiving the inheritance due to me until I find a suitable husband. If you prove yourself trustworthy in these matters, please understand that your eligibility for marriage will be placed at the top of my considerations. This is a confidential and embarrassing matter, and I request your discreet assistance. If you accept my request, I will provide further details and documentation needed to verify my story.

God be with you.

Princess Omowumi ibn Kura al-Kanemi"

Attached at the bottom were a couple of pictures. All of them were of a round-faced, attractive-looking African woman in various showy outfits and with assorted shining accessories. Some of the backgrounds even looked authentically like non-rural parts of Africa. One at the end even passed pretty well for her standing on the grounds of an American college. She was his type, honestly, though he had yet to actually secure anybody who looked like that.

Joel was, of course, not born yesterday. He immediately assumed that the email was a scam, that the pictures were either AI-generated or stolen from somewhere, and that wiring the money to the attached account would not only result in him never seeing it again, but likely him going down in history as a mark of utterly unserious magnitude. There were, however, a few things that had given him pause. For one thing, the 'scammer' had apparently mixed up their angles. Combining the usual Nigerian Prince thing with some sort of mail-order-bride angle that usually resulted in people waking up missing organs. They'd also used some more authentic terminology in their email - considering that Nigeria was a constitutional republic and didn't have a "Prince", but the royal family of the once-proud Kanem-Bornu empire did still exist and have some regional clout even if no real authority. "ibn" also meant 'son of' in Arabic. His two semesters of MENA history really paying for themselves there.

The whole thing with scams though is that they tended to be obvious as a self-selection mechanism. They'd claim to be a Nigerian Prince and include typos or other mistakes so that anybody who was really paying attention - and who wasn't going to be gotten, most likely - would stop reading sooner. If you were the kind of idiot who was liable to fall for this, you probably didn't know much about Africa, or Arabic, or the internet.

Which made it a little confusing that the scammer seemed to have crossed 'her' wires and gotten her scams mixed up. While also then taking the time to make her email mostly grammatically correct and including some more niche African details. One had to conclude that the email was written by an idiot, but more of an idiot by way of inexperience than anything. They were bad at scams, at the very least. What was weirdest though was the transfer information. What modicum of tech-savvy Joel had suggested that it linked to somebody's personal account. Not a surprise, necessarily, but there was no level of abstraction for if they were investigated. And there was no real way to keep draining his account, not even really a way to try to force themselves in. It was basically somebody holding out their hands and asking nicely for money, with the understanding that if it was sent, it was just gone. Unless they asked for more, it was just a couple hundred bucks he was out of.

And then Joel had a very stupid idea.

"Whatever, man," Joel opened up the transfer app on his phone.

He had to assume the email was coming from somebody who was genuinely poor enough to need to scam him. It wasn't like the amount they were asking for was going to make the difference in him. He wasn't going to be able to pay rent with it, he wasn't going to be able to make trades that would get him to paying rent with it. Ultimately, if he just lit a few hundred dollars on fire to make some third-worlder's life easier, it didn't matter to him. Hell, when he thought about it that way, that might be food on somebody else's table that they wouldn't have otherwise.

With the transfer done, he opened a delivery app and went back to queuing for ranked.

In the three days after the transfer, Joel thought about it exactly five times.

None of them were regretful, at least not seriously. There was one or two moments of 'that was probably pretty dumb', but he was too busy staring down several tens of thousands of dollars missing to be worried about a few hundred. Of course, he was aware that he had effectively set that money on fire. That he would never see any kind of reward, maybe not even a response to it. And if he did, it would be the same inept scammer asking for more money. Hell, they could have at least sent a 'thank you' message of some kind, but breaking the kayfabe was probably bad for business. Mostly, he thought about how fucked he was, how much he didn't want to have the talk with his parents, and how much he didn't want to have to look for another job.

Then, on the third day, the doorbell rang.

Considering he hadn't ordered anything recently, Joel was immediately suspicious. He lived in a gated neighborhood, so he basically never got solicitors. He wasn't expecting friends over and he didn't have family in-town. If anything, that should have been a sign not to open the door, but almost without thinking about it, he did.

Outside on his doorstep were two towering men in dark suits, one of them with a shiny bald head and a distinctly eastern-European sense of menace about him, the other a black man with shoulders wide enough to land a plane on.

"Are you Joel Weintraub?" The black man asked.

"Yes?" Joel answered, then immediately kicked himself. These were obviously hired muscle of some kind, why the fuck had he given them his name? He was about to turn up dead in a ditch somewhere.

They parted just enough for him to see a limousine idling on the street behind them. The eastern-European nodded to it curtly and the door opened.

Out stepped the woman from the pictures, Joel's mind went back there instantly out of shock. She was probably a few years older than the university picture - perhaps near-graduation now and not just starting out. Her build was short and stout, around chest height for him (who not exactly tall himself) and towered over by the two hired muscle types, but her curvy, pear-shaped body gave her more presence than she would have otherwise. Her skin was dark, nearing blueness, while her ink-black hair was shaved to near her head, leaving little dark whorls over her scalp like seashells on a beach. She had on an extravagant pair of golden hoop earrings that glittered almost garishly as they swung, as well as a clingy purple dress that showed off just how much her hips and bust jiggled as she walked. According to the email, she was in her late thirties, but she looked young for her age. Possibly the result of actually being from an extravagant amount of money.

"My darling!" He was a little shocked to hear only the barest hint of an accent, but if she'd been studying in the US for the past few years, that would explain that.

She rushed over, moving a little awkwardly as her high heels clacked. She held out her arms as she pranced like she was welcoming a close friend or family member. The two guards stepped aside for her and she pulled Joel into a warm, overly loving embrace. She smelled just wonderful, a scent that he probably couldn't have afforded even at his richest. When she pulled back, she looked him up and down with a beaming smile on her face.

"I could not have dreamed that my savior would be so attractive!" She prodded him in the ribs slightly. Either her type was scrawny, unremarkable white guys or she was trying to gas him up.

"Savior…" Joel stumbled out. Even though his brain recognized what was going on, it was like the rest of his body couldn't believe it. "Wait, you're real?"

"What kind of question is that?" Her smile fell, but not completely. "Would you have sent the money if I was not real? I was so depressed when my father passed, and things only seemed to get worse. I did not think anybody would be kind enough to help me, but you did!"

"No I-" Joel started and stopped. There were a dozen things he was about to say, and none of them were good. "I'm glad I could help?"

"You did!" Omowumi beamed. "Your payment was enough for me to get into contact with allies who helped unfreeze some of my accounts. Now I have access to my jet and my allowance again."

"That's good." Joel nodded without really processing anything. "I'm happy to hear that."

"And with that sorted, I can fly you out to Nigeria." Omowumi beckoned to the limo behind her.

"Oh, you-" Joel sputtered. This had to be some kind of dream.

"Yes, I am sorry." She bowed her head apologetically for a moment. "It may be against the traditions of your family, but to receive the full extent of my inheritance, we must be married in my home country by the traditions of my people."

"R-right, of course." Joel looked back at his apartment, considering how long it would take him to pack his computer and things. Of course, there was the possibility that this was still a scam, but if it was, it was way higher-effort than any he'd ever seen before. "Ms. Omowumi, out of curiosity, about how much money does that fortune translate to?"

"If you are worried about being repaid for your donation, have no fear. My inheritance is some several billion US dollars, and if we are to marry, I will buy you anything your heart desires." She took his face in her soft hands, cradling his cheeks. "And please, my husband, call me Omo."

"Lead the way, Omo." Joel closed the door behind him without a second thought.

Around the point they were loading onto a private jet that looked right out of some Saudi propaganda, Joel finally realized he almost certainly wasn't getting scammed. The only thing missing was for it all to be covered in tacky gold. Instead, it looked like a nice, modern airliner just designed for only one person or a few people to enjoy. There was a bathroom big enough to have a shower nicer than the one in his house, at least two bedrooms, and all manner of snacks and meals and drinks. Omo had made him fill out a couple forms on the way there, he'd read them over as best he could, mostly just finding them to be standard pre-nup papers. Then they'd talked a bit about each other before Omo had retired to bed. Joel was too wired to sleep on the plane, even though he had a lavish bedroom on offer, so instead he took the fanciest and highest-elevation shower of his life and then spent some time on his phone trying his best to make sense of what was happening to him. At some point, he dozed off, when he woke up again, he was in Africa for the first time in his life.

The week since had mostly been a blur of vaccinations, doctor's checkups, paperwork, settling in, and continuing to try to make sense of things. But, at the end of it, he'd also been subjected to the most confusing wedding of his life. Now, he was just thankful it was over.

"Are you comfortable, my love?" Omo called from the bathroom.

"Absolutely, love." Joel called back.

He was, of course. Currently he was laying back on their nuptial bed trying to catch his breath after the ceremony. It had been an insane, whole-day affair. Meeting hundreds of people that he'd never been on the same continent as before this week, being showered in gifts and ceremony, and dancing. Oh, so much dancing. Unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to disprove the notion about his race's prowess, but he at least hadn't gotten drunk enough to make a complete ass out of himself. Supposedly, despite the hall being filled with the best-smelling food of his life, it was tradition that neither of them eat from morning until consummation, something about savoring the fruits of each other or whatever. Now, he kept stealing glances over toward the large tray of leftovers that Omo had quietly requested be wheeled in for them. It was parked right next to his new, top of the line gaming PC. He had no idea what happened to the one he'd left behind in his apartment. Omo had said she was sending somebody to pick up his old stuff, but his landlord might have tried hocking a good amount of it by the time it was all said and done. He didn't exactly care. Even the couple thousand he had in his trading account was free to whoever could figure out how to get in. As for his clothes, he'd been given a bunch of new ones. Nothing else really mattered, he didn't have a pet or anything.

Omo was in the bathroom trying to get out of her elaborate, jaw-dropping dress, and had been very particular about him not peeking, even though they were about to make love for the first time. They'd had to be very chaste before the wedding made it official, according to her culture. And even though she was beautiful - and seemed somehow to find him attractive - they'd actually had an easy time of that, just because of how busy they'd both been, as well as Omo's fastidiousness to making sure nothing happened. They'd kissed a few times, never for more than a second or two, but that had been enough. If not for how strict she'd been about observing tradition, he might have suggested that they eat something before making love, considering he'd heard her stomach growling too. She'd had him shave basically everything but his head, start lotioning himself with a coconut-based mixture every day, and even gone so far as to equip the bathroom with both a bidet and an enema kit that she'd requested he use the day before their wedding. Whatever she intended for their first night, it promised to be… intense.

"And are you ready, my love?" Omo called.

"I could not be more ready for you, beloved." Joel called back. It was probably the suavest line he'd managed in the full week, but Omo seemed to find his nervy un-smootheness charming. It couldn't really cover the fact that he wasn't packing much heat where it counted, or that he was as close to a kissless virgin as you could be without actually being one.

"…are you sure?" She sounded a little off.

"I am sure, it's just…" Joel felt a little pang of nerves and decided to get out ahead of it. "Will I be enough for you?"

"Oh, my darling." He heard her sigh. "I'm worried about the same, but for you."

"You're worried you might not be enough for me?" He asked incredulously.

"Perhaps not as such, but that… my body may… displease you." Omo admitted.

"My love," Joel sat up, resisting the urge to poke his head into the bathroom door and reassure his new wife. "I promise to cherish and worship your body, no matter its shape."

Joel heard Omo give a deep, contented, but nervous sigh from the bathroom. Then the padding of her feet on the tiles. He perked up eagerly, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching the door for her to come out.

She emerged headfirst, her hair still short although just a little longer than it had been when they first met. Her face had been mostly scrubbed of makeup, though there was a little russet blush to her cheeks if only to downplay how dark her skin was. A smile reached from her lips to her brown eyes, though it was a nervous one. She had a skirt still around her waist, but her chest and stomach were exposed now, a pot belly with hanging breasts that swung nearly to her navel. It was almost incredible just how much mass fit onto her small, shapely frame, each breast bigger than her head. But her hips still bowed outward pleasingly compared to her shoulders and stomach. There were small stretch marks all over her, especially around her hips and tummy. While her dark, almost black nipples were already poking out excitedly and glistening with coconut-smelling lotion.

"My love," Joel began, "You are the most beautiful-"

Omo dropped her skirt as he was talking, perhaps for effect or perhaps just by coincidence. His eyes greedily jumped to her large, jiggling thighs and… the large cock hanging between her legs. Even flaccid, it was probably six or seven inches, with foreskin reaching up around the head to completely obscure it. She had removed any traces of hair, but it was still darker than the skin around it. Her large, heavy-looking balls sat almost midway down her thighs.

"-woman I have ever seen." Joel managed to catch himself and keep it from being too awkward.

"You cannot tell how relieved I am to hear that, my love." She tossed the skirt back into the bathroom and sat down on the bed beside him.

"No, I-" Joel started and stopped, "So 'ibn' wasn't a typo?"

"What do you mean by that, my love?" She asked, confused.

"Nothing," Joel shook his head.

"And… I must be honest with you, my husband." Omo put her hand on his thigh lovingly, but looked at him with a hint of guilt. "This is not the first time I have married."

"Oh?" Joel tried not to show any surprise. "Well, you did say you were forty-five, I guess that's not weird."

"My previous husbands…" Omo sighed. "I did love them, honestly. But they could not keep up with me."

"Keep up with you?" Joel asked, even though he could guess what she meant. "Forgive my asking, but have you ever tried marrying… a woman?"

"Our culture would not allow it, as I am a female heir." Omowumi looked at him patiently. "Though I have… dalliances on the side. That's not a dealbreaker for you, is it?"

"Of course not." Joel looked around the palatial room, "Whatever makes you happy."

"Still, my wedding bed is reserved for you and you alone." She grabbed his hands. "It is not too late for you to change-"

"Don't finish that sentence." Joel cut in.

Admittedly, there was a second thought or two. They didn't last very long.

"When in Rome," Joel said, letting go of one hand to grab the bottle of lotion by her bed. "Try to keep up with the Romans."

"What do you mean-" Omo started, then squeaked.

Joel had risen from the bed and pulled her up with him, then turned her around and pushed her face-down onto the bed. Squeezing out a handful of the lotion into his palms, he settled down and started to rub it into her back. Omo cooed and relaxed, letting him appreciate the folds and softness of her skin. He didn't want to waste any time, however, and reached around to lotion her large breasts immediately. She squeaked and then sighed, leaning back into his touch. He tried not to be intimidated by the sight of her cock twitching between her legs, starting to grow from its already large size. But as he moved down to her belly, it started to swell more rapidly. Then she gently took one of his wrists and set his hand on one of her balls.

"I did lotion myself somewhat, love." She chided him. "Though if you are… intimidated…"

"No," Joel put his other hand on her other testicle and started to massage. "I was just wondering if you wanted to… go slow."

Omo's cock gave a much larger twitch, the foreskin starting to peel back from the head. She watched with pleasure as his hands moved from her orbs to the shaft and started to rub, her own hands reaching back to find the lotion bottle and give him a little more lubricant to work with.

"It is edible lotion, my love." She whispered, he could feel her heartbeat through her shaft.

"Understood." Joel swallowed heavily.

She stood up and turned to him, clearly eager to get to the next stage. Omo was harder than he'd thought she'd be, it was just that she was well-endowed enough for her erection to still arc down like a rainbow. As her length bobbed in Joel's face, he admittedly had a second thought or two about just how much one should act as the Romans do when in Rome.

"Does my size intimidate you, my love?" Omo chuckled, clearly having done this whole song and dance before.

"It's just… I'm a virgin." Joel admitted.

"Oh my darling," Omo cooed. "That will not be a problem, allow me to show you. Open your mouth."

As Joel followed her command, Omowumi grabbed another bottle from the nightstand and squeezed some of the contents into her palm. She applied it to her length along with the lotion, pulsing in her own grip, then set the tip of her cock against his outstretched tongue before pouring some more out. It hit the tip of her cock and splashed into his mouth before she eased herself in, pushing it down almost like she was feeding him medicine. Saliva welled up in Joel's mouth, and he swallowed it rapidly, only to find a strange sensation coating his mouth and throat. It was a sort of burning, but also a numbness. Like the skin was feverish and dull. Then Omo pushed herself in and Joel's eyes went wide. What must have been six or more inches of her slid down his throat without issue, and then sat there without protest. She beamed at him proudly before easing more of herself in. He could feel his throat straining, and as he reached up he registered that she'd distended his neck with her size. Still, there was no pain and no gagging.

"A local plant, a friend to virgins - and those who must eat poor food in hard times." Omowumi sighed contentedly before grabbing the lotion bottle again and starting to massage her own breasts. Joel reached up and continued to massage her balls again without complaint.

Despite the fact that she seemingly could have rutted him like an animal without concern, Omo pushed herself in and out slowly, stretching and releasing his throat like a gradual force of nature. Her large balls gave an eager jump in his hands, drawing up into the excess of skin they were pooled in. As she rubbed lotion on her nipples, they tented, revealing an expanse of gooseflesh around them. Omowumi leaned her head back and sighed heavily again. She seemed to enjoy it slow and loving, though perhaps she was just warming him up first.

"I admit, I have saved myself for you, after a fashion." She sounded gleeful. "So I am pent up, and I may be a quick shot."

Joel wasn't capable of expressing that that was just fine by him, though he wondered if that meant Omo liked it faster and rougher the rest of the time. She touched the chubby skin of her crotch to his nose without issue, though Joel's stomach gave a groan of protest as the head of her cock probably rested down at the bottom of his esophagus.

"I also admit, I am quite hungry." Omo chuckled.

He gave her a thumbs-up, hopefully expressing to her that he was ready to be done whenever she was. Omo took his encouragement, giving a few ponderously slow, powerful thrusts before gasping and throbbing in his throat. Then a few more thrusts, then another gasp. He wasn't sure if she was edging herself or trying to hold out as long as possible. But the next time she thrusted, the gasp came early and she clutched one of her large nipples in one hand and his hair in the other before pressing her cock all the way down his throat, bringing his chin against the hot empty skin of her sack and his nose deep into the brown skin of her groin.

Her cock throbbed like a single long muscle, pumping up from the base into his gullet. Then it swelled and he felt his stomach gurgle as it shot directly down into him. Omo let out a girly giggle and squeal of joy, followed by a heavy, hearty groan. Again and again her cock pulsed, pumping seed from her oversized balls down into his empty stomach. While his throat was still largely senseless, he could feel the heat and density of her in his stomach. Thick and sloshing, too much of it to not upset his guts. He also realized, somewhat distantly, that he couldn't breathe. He was surprised he'd been able to breathe at all up to this point, maybe just because of whatever she'd given him, but now she had swollen up and plugged him shut like a cork.

"Oh my love, oh my god," Omo squeezed Joel's hair firmly, her toes curling into the rug beneath her feet.

Joel was throbbing hard himself, his cock poking from his bathrobe, his head pounding in time with the heartbeats that made him throb. For his first time giving head, especially to somebody as well-endowed as his knew wife, it was both easier and more erotic than he expected. He almost wondered if he mightn't have cum like that, given less influence from the numbing agent or some longer, rougher treatment from Omo.

Finally, she pulled out, squeezing a large dollop of her love out onto his face before taking a step back and bracing herself against the nightstand. Omo looked winded, but she looked lost in pleasure just as much. Her cock was half-hard still, bobbing occasionally, but she stepped into the bathroom and came back with a towel. Quickly wiping her hands on it before taking it and dabbing Joel's face clean. Then she cleared her throat loudly.

"As much as I would love to continue, my husband, are you not hungry?" She asked sweetly. "Assuming I have not already filled your belly."

In actuality, it felt like Joel had drunken too much on an empty stomach, just without any sort of buzz to show for it. As he stood up, he felt a little weak, but he felt far hungrier than anything else. Omo looked him up and down, rubbing his cock lovingly, then kissed him as they made their way over to the table.

"You underestimate my appetite." He joked.

"Oh my love, there will be time for far more later." Omo had already grabbed herself a bowl and filled it with a large helping of soup made from fish, beef, and melon, along with a large blob of steaming soft fufu dough. "But I must warn you, the concoction that loosened your throat will not help you elsewhere."

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