In front of the driver, I touched her breasts and pulled off her skirt in the back seat.

This world is not peaceful; we are just lucky to be born in a peaceful country.
Only by going to Africa can you truly understand what poverty is! How terrible life is for people in impoverished countries.
I lived in country J. After the successful hosting of the Olympics, Sino-African relations entered a honeymoon period, with China undertaking numerous aid projects in Africa, attracting many companies to seek their fortunes there. I was one of them.
First, let me clarify some things. Many people say that the country's investment of so much money in Africa is a waste of people's hard-earned money—this view is wrong. After the financial crisis, the economies of Europe and America were severely impacted, and China's export-oriented economic structure was also seriously affected. The country promptly changed its policy, investing heavily in infrastructure and developing domestic demand. For the large quantities of primary commodities in surplus production, the government purchased them, packaged them into large-scale projects such as highways, railways, office buildings, stadiums, mines, and power plants, and sold them to Africa. What the country gave Africa was not money, but projects built from China's surplus resources. These projects developed local energy and precious metals. Then, the local areas only needed to repay China with half of their output over the next ten or twenty years.
For Africa, without spending a penny, a series of industries were established, creating jobs and developing the economy. For China, it acquired a large amount of seemingly useless resources, resolved the economic crisis, created jobs for some, secured future imports of energy and strategic materials, and earned the respect of the locals. This is far superior to Western countries that support anti-government armed groups and incompetent presidents when their people disobey.
Chinese people still hold a high status in Africa, and the official attitude towards them is very positive. However, there are always some greedy individuals eyeing the wallets of Chinese people.
The project I participated in wasn't long, and obtaining a formal local work visa was expensive and troublesome. So we used tourist visas, stayed for three months, and then went to the foreign affairs department in a small town in J country to extend our visas (communication is backward in small African cities, and bureaucracy is corrupt; a little money can extend the visa for three months). After that, we took the train back to the capital, only to be detained by black police officers at the capital's train station. Two black police officers, looking like gorillas, locked me and another Chinese construction worker in a small room. A sheriff-like figure slapped our visas, yelling in broken English, "Your visas are illegal! Who issued them? What company are you from? Get your manager on the phone! I need to check all your visas!" The
Chinese construction worker next to us was practically terrified. He'd never seen anything like it before and stammered, asking me what to do.
I reassured him, "It's okay! They just want to extort money from us."
Seeing we weren't responding, the black sheriff threw handcuffs in front of us, threatening, "I'm going to arrest you!"
The construction worker panicked even more, reaching into his pocket: "Forget it, maybe I should give them some money. I don't want trouble."
I quickly stopped him: "Don't take out any money! If you do, they'll squeeze every last penny out of you."
Seeing us struggling to speak in Chinese, the black sheriff grew even angrier, gesturing wildly as if he were about to call in reinforcements.
I tried to calm my incompetent friend. While sneering at the sheriff, I said, "We are engineers on a Chinese-aided construction project. The highways, bridges, and buildings we're building are projects personally negotiated by your president. You say our visas are illegal? Then call our Chinese embassy and send us all back home. The projects will all be canceled. Here's the embassy's number, go ahead and call!"
I pulled out my phone and showed him the number. "You think you can scare me? I'll just make up some excuse and scare you to death."
The black sheriff seemed intimidated, his face shifting between anger and uncertainty. He and the officer next to him whispered something in the local language, creating a tense atmosphere.
The construction worker, knowing I was exaggerating, wiped his sweat, terrified, but still tried to pay to avoid trouble.
I could barely stop this useless teammate, so I quickly pulled a box of Chinese biscuits—the kind that cost 3 yuan—from my bag and threw it on the sheriff's desk. I said, "This is for you!"
The black sheriff's face darkened: "What's this? Ah!"
I feigned a pained expression: "This is very expensive food, very delicious. It's for you! Your child will love it! Let's be friends." "We're here to help you build your country, not to cause trouble."
The black sheriff stared at me for a long time, then, seeing that I wasn't intimidated at all, he laughed and let us go. Actually, he was quite timid himself, afraid of making things worse.
The construction worker left without even a thank you, slinking away dejectedly. This incident reminded me of many frustrating things at work. I felt very uncomfortable. People in Africa have very low expectations, and their manners are generally poor. While facing local organized crime abroad, I had to protect myself while also dealing with internal problems. The pent-up resentment I'd accumulated over time made me desperately need an outlet.
Just then, the company car arrived, with a local black driver and a black female nanny hired by the company to do grocery shopping and cooking. I got into the car with a grim face. The nanny sat next to me, and for some reason, I couldn't hold back my anger. The road outside the train station was quite desolate, with few vehicles and few buildings.
I grabbed the nanny's breast and started rubbing it. She screamed in fright and immediately yelled for the driver to help. Actually, this woman was quite open-minded; I knew she'd had affairs with many people, including this driver.
But it was all just for fun, so why couldn't I?
I told the Black driver, "I'm just kidding with her. Tell her I'll give her an LV bag."
The Black driver and I knew each other well, and he just smiled at my actions and relayed my words to her.
Local Black people have very low incomes; a female nanny's monthly salary is only around 500 RMB. When I came from China, I brought a batch of cheap counterfeit goods from Luohu to give as gifts. Although most were just cheap imitations of LV and Gucci, these African bumpkins couldn't tell the difference between real and fake. With her income, she probably would never have the chance to buy such a beautiful bag in her lifetime.
After hearing this, she was very tempted; her cries softened, and her resistance lessened.
I hugged her, squeezing her breasts hard with one hand and reaching under her skirt to touch her private parts.
Black women are still quite voluptuous, and their skin is incredibly elastic. But apart from East Asians, 80% of the world's population has a strong body odor. Speaking of mutants, Chinese people are definitely a minority. The nanny wore a heavy perfume, but the perfume mixed with her body odor, creating an even stranger smell.
I didn't kiss her, but instead grabbed her hand and put it inside my pants. After a while, she became a little aroused, her hand gripping my genitals and moving slowly.
People in developed countries look down on Chinese people, thinking we are backward and ignorant. In Africa, we also look down on these African civilians who are still in a semi-primitive society. I didn't feel too guilty about letting others play with her like this, as long as no one died. The company didn't care, and the authorities wouldn't care about us foreigners' small acts of molesting women. It's like how foreigners received special treatment in China back then.
The sky darkened; the weather in Africa changes very quickly, and soon it started raining heavily. The driver, who had been half-peeking at the glimpse of the woman in the back seat, now had to focus on the increasingly worse road conditions.
I pressed the nanny against the side window, pulled down half of her underwear, and squeezed her round, perky buttocks. African women, regardless of their looks, all have very perky buttocks, which is the most fun part. I became increasingly excited, rubbing my genitals against her buttocks through my pants. She offered weak resistance, but resolutely held onto her last line of defense, refusing to let me in. She probably didn't want to have sex with me in front of acquaintances.
I also didn't want to risk getting a disease without a condom. After playing around for a while, I stopped and whispered in her ear: "Go back! To your room!"
Upon arriving at the accommodation, I tossed the driver a ten-yuan tip, handed over some tasks to my colleagues, quickly finished dinner, and then, carrying a whole box of condoms and a counterfeit bag, slipped into the nanny's room. Our company rented a large villa, with employees living in separate rooms. The nanny lived in a storage room behind the garden. The black driver dropped me off and went home. It was raining outside, and no one would be coming, which was perfect for me.
When I went in, the nanny was taking a shower. She saw me and was about to call out when I suddenly threw the counterfeit LV purse in her face. I laughed and said, "This! It's expensive! It's for you."
Her eyes lit up, and she examined the bag from all angles, clearly admiring it, and stopped calling out.
I'd been pent up for too long, and in Africa, where there was often no water, electricity, or internet, and I was always surrounded by a bunch of burly men, my aesthetic sense had seriously deteriorated. Anyway, I was just releasing my desires; I didn't care if she was beautiful or ugly.
I pulled down my pants, put on the condoms, and stood in front of her: "Give me a blowjob!"
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This section seems to discourage descriptions of sex scenes. I won't go into detail about the process here; I can start a separate column if you're interested.
:)
After we were done, I contentedly tossed the remaining box of condoms onto her bedside. I told her, "Tomorrow! More gifts!"
But things never go as planned. The next day, exhausted from work, I went back to the nanny's place for some more fun. She told me the condoms were finished!
I was stunned for a moment, thinking she was lying. I searched her room for a while, but couldn't find them.
Damn it! There were still a dozen or so condoms left! And she told me they were finished the next day! I couldn't help but silently count the number of colleagues in the villa—not even ten including the manager! And there were three black drivers… Thinking about it, I almost threw up. I instantly lost all interest; it was disgusting. I never want to touch her again.
Back then, a young colleague named Xixi developed feelings for the nanny. Eventually, for some reason, his love turned to hate, and he chased after her and beat her every day. We nicknamed him "Crazy Xixi"!

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In front of the driver, I touched her breasts and pulled off her skirt in the back seat.

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