Based on a true story

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At 18, I faced my first heartbreak. It all began with an arranged marriage to Zola a girl from my village. She was stunning, and I felt blessed to have her as my partner. Our village celebrated our union with a grand wedding that spanned two days. After exchanging vows, we sealed our commitment, as tradition demanded.

Then came the twist: a year-long study opportunity in France, arranged by my family. While I pursued my education abroad, my wife remained in the village under the care of her family, with her supposed uncle watching over her.

Leaving Africa for the first time, I couldn’t shake the fear of leaving my beloved behind. Every day in France, thoughts of her consumed me. I remained faithful, never casting a glance at another woman. All I longed for was to return to her side.

As the year drew to a close, I eagerly anticipated our reunion. But fate had other plans. A mechanical issue diverted my flight, delaying my homecoming. Undeterred, I pressed on, eager to surprise my wife.

Arriving in the village late at night, I made a beeline for her home. But as I approached her bedroom, I heard murmurs and heavy breathing. A sinking feeling gripped me as I swung open the door, only to be met with a sight that shattered my world: my wife, entwined with the man she claimed was her uncle.

At that moment, my heart shattered, and my trust crumbled. I vowed never to trust or love another person.

Jabari: (shocked, hurt) What… what is this?

Zola: (startled, scrambling) Wait, it’s not what you think!

Jabari: (voice trembling) Not what I think? Explain this! Why are you in bed with your uncle?

Ade: (jumps out of the bed) Uncle I’m not her uncle! You lied said I’m your uncle?

Zola: (frantically) He’s… he’s just a friend. He… he came over to check on me.

Jabari: (eyes narrowing) your uncle or a friend? In your bed? At this hour?

Zola: (pleading) Please, listen to me. It’s not what you’re thinking.

Jabari: (voice rising) Then what is it? Tell me the truth!

Zola: (tears welling up) I… I don’t know how to explain.

Jabari: (angrily) You better get the fuck out of here before I kill! And you don’t know how to explain this ? After I trusted you, after everything we had?

Ade: (gathering his clothes rushing to leave) I will always be here for Zola.

Zola: (desperately) Just go Ade. I’m sorry! I messed up, okay? I messed up.

Jabari: (voice breaking) How could you do this to me? To us?

Zola: (sobbing) I don’t know… I don’t know… Please forgive me.

Jabari: (heartbroken) I don’t know if I can… I need time to process this. I need… I need to be alone.

Zola: (reaching out) No, please, don’t leave. Let’s talk about this. I love you.

Jabari: (pulling away) I need space… I need to think.

Zola: (broken) Please… don’t go…

Refusing to be tethered by heartache again, Jabari turned his back on settling down, embracing the allure of the unknown. With a backpack slung over his shoulder and a world map in hand, he became a nomad, chasing horizons instead of hearts.

Each step he took was a silent vow to never let himself be tied down again. He wandered through bustling cities, serene villages, and remote landscapes, seeking solace in the rhythm of his footsteps and the whispers of the wind.

From the majestic peaks of the Himalayas to the vibrant streets of Tokyo, he found liberation in the vastness of the world. Every sunrise brought a new beginning, every sunset a farewell to the past.

As I journeyed through the vast expanse of the globe, I encountered women whose smiles mirrored the warmth of distant sunsets and whose laughter echoed the melody of foreign lands. Yet, beneath my roving gaze lay a guarded heart, scarred by the betrayal of my wife.

Each encounter with a woman stirred a tempest within me, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I reveled in their company, drawn to their captivating charm and the allure of shared moments. But as their affection deepened, so too did my apprehension, a specter of distrust haunting the corners of my mind.

Yet, amid the wreckage of broken promises and shattered dreams, a flicker of remorse stirred within me. For in my quest to protect myself, I had become the very thing I feared most—a purveyor of pain, a harbinger of heartache.

Stepping onto American soil for the first time, Jabari felt a rush of anticipation mixed with a tinge of uncertainty. This land, so often portrayed in movies and stories, now lay before him, ready to reveal its secrets.

The bustling streets of New York City greeted me with a cacophony of sights and sounds, a whirlwind of energy that enveloped my senses. Skyscrapers stretched towards the sky, their towering heights a testament to the dreams that took flight in this city of dreams.

In the heart of Times Square, neon lights danced and billboards blazed, illuminating the night with a kaleidoscope of colors. I stood amidst the throngs of people, feeling both insignificant and alive in the pulsating heart of the city.

I was driven by a thirst for adventure and a hunger for the unknown, I found myself drawn into the shadows of the underworld. In the dimly lit alleyways of foreign cities and the clandestine backrooms of obscure establishments, I became entangled in a web of deceit and deception.

At first, it was innocent enough—a chance encounter with a dubious character offering lucrative opportunities beyond the bounds of legality. Seduced by the promise of easy money and the adrenaline rush of forbidden enterprise, I took the plunge into the murky waters of illicit dealings.

From smuggling contraband across borders to laundering dirty money through obscure channels, I embraced the thrill of danger, my moral compass clouded by the allure of ill-gotten gains. I danced on the razor’s edge, navigating a labyrinth of lies and half-truths, each step bringing me deeper into the heart of darkness.

As I rubbed shoulders with unsavory characters and delved deeper into the underworld, the lines between right and wrong blurred, morality becoming a distant memory in the pursuit of profit. Yet, beneath the facade of bravado and swagger, a gnawing sense of guilt gnawed at my conscience, a silent reminder of the price of my actions.

Caught in a downward spiral of greed and corruption, the world I found myself teetering on the brink of ruin, my once noble quest for adventure tainted by the stain of criminality. And as I stared into the abyss of my own making, I realized that in my pursuit of excitement and riches, I had lost sight of the true essence of my journey.

But as the saying goes, every empire built on vice eventually crumbles, and so it was that of my empire that came crashing down around me. In a sudden and violent twist of fate, the authorities swooped in, their iron grip closing around me like a vice.

As handcuffs clicked into place and the cold steel of a cell door slammed shut behind me, I found myself face-to-face with the consequences of my action. No longer a free spirit roaming the world in search of adventure, I was now a prisoner, bound by the chains of my own making.

In the darkness of the cell, with nothing but the echoes of regret to keep me company, I was forced to confront the choices that had led me to this moment. As I languished in the suffocating embrace of incarceration, I vowed to reclaim the freedom I had so recklessly squandered, no matter the cost.

In the heart of the prison’s labyrinthine corridors, where shadows danced against the cold, sterile walls, an unlikely bond began to form between me and a female correction officer. Bound by the rigid constraints of our roles, we found solace in stolen moments of connection, our clandestine meetings a forbidden oasis in the desert of confinement.

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In the dimly lit confines of my cell, I waited with bated breath, each passing moment stretching into eternity as I yearned for the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. For in the darkness of confinement, the promise of intimacy with the CO was the only glimmer of light in my desolate existence.

As the minutes dragged on, my heart pounded in anticipation, the echoes of my own heartbeat reverberating against the cold, unforgiving walls. I dared not let myself hope too much, for fear of disappointment, yet my longing for connection burned like a flame in the darkness.

Then, finally, I heard it—the soft shuffle of footsteps echoing down the corridor, growing louder with each passing second. With a surge of adrenaline, I rose to my feet, my pulse quickening with the anticipation of what was to come.

And then she appeared, a vision of warmth and light in the bleakness of my surroundings. The CO, with her gentle smile and compassionate eyes, was my lifeline in a sea of solitude, the one who brought solace to my weary soul.

Correction Officer: “Prisoner 1576900 to your feet hands behind your back.”

Correction Officer: “Open cell Number 7 in O block.”

With practiced efficiency, she unlocked the cell door, her touch sending shivers down my spine as she led me out into the narrow corridor. In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of us, bound together by the invisible threads of desire and longing.

As we stole away to our secret rendezvous spot, time seemed to stand still, the outside world melting away into oblivion.

I grab her by the neck and look her in the eyes (she likes it rough). I pick her up against the cell bars she lifts her arms above her and holds on the bars as she rides me. The intensity is so strong that she bounces up and down with pleasure. I’m holding her little ass up adding additional support for her to take this dick. She is here risking it all for some Mandingo. Her pussy is so gushy right now. I knew she was waiting to get fucked all day. I aim to please her. I grab her by the hair pull her head back and kiss all over her neck. I put her on the ground with her legs in the air. I open them up like a pair of scissors and put my face between her legs sucking on that nodule of flesh at the same time pushing two fingers inside of her to stimulate her G spot. She raised up her hips arching her back and lifting herself in the air. She released all in my mouth warm pussy juice. I stand up and she gets on her knees and takes me into her mouth, and she gives me head. I pump in and out her mouth, she’s drooling all down my dick to my balls. I picked her up off her knees and spin her around. I put her hands on the wall and spread her legs. As if she was being searched. I take my finger and put it in her ass. She cried out. “Now the vagina” I whisper to her. This time with my dick I rammed it inside her pussy. I’m pounding her out as her face is pressed up against the wall. With my hand over her mouth, she couldn’t mutter a sound as I pounded her from the back. She was helpless.

In each other’s arms, we found refuge from the harsh realities of our respective worlds, our connection a brief respite from the relentless march of time.

Our encounters were fraught with risk, each moment teetering on the edge of discovery. Yet, fueled by the intoxicating allure of forbidden desire, we were willing to brave the consequences for the fleeting taste of freedom that our connection provided.

But as our bond deepened, so too did the danger that lurked in the shadows. For in the unforgiving world of prison, where lines were blurred and loyalties tested, our forbidden love affair could only end in tragedy.

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