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Untamed Passion

By: smoldering_passion



Tags for Untamed Passion – Contemporary 2, Interracial 3, Procreation 3, Romance 1 – (New to my Tag system? See my profile for specifics before reading.)

This is a work of fiction. The island state of Casslan is a made-up location (to the best of my knowledge) for the purposes of this story. All names are fictional and any resemblance to characters herein, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

"Nakina Owusu is a beautiful African refugee who finds herself on the islands of Casslan. As she struggles to make a life for herself far from home, she finds herself courted by an unlikely suitor, and is swept up into a torrid love affair that will affect both their lives..."

For those of you who like it, please send comments, suggestions and constructive criticism. I apologise to those who do not find it to their liking, since the aim was to please rather than displease. Enjoy.

*

Debra Augier inspected herself in the mirror as she was preparing herself to retire for the evening, reaching the decision that she would need to visit a hairstylist soon. Suddenly Vanessa, her eldest daughter, flashed past her doorway in a flurry of movement that spoke of an overdue engagement, which the blaring car horn outside emphasised.

"I'm off mom!" her voice drifting back down the hall. "I'll be back before eleven, and don't worry about dinner!"

"Please be careful ma Cherie," Debra called, her English accented with French undertones. "Do not do unnecessary things!"

Vanessa was now past the age for her mother to look out for her, but she still worried about her daughter, who had finally turned eighteen. In a way Debra was glad, Vanessa had become a lovely young woman who had taken well to the responsibilities of her life. However, she was at the age when members of the opposite sex would become a factor in her life – she already knew boys were paying attention, and even some men.

As a mother, Debra's wish was that her daughter would find a nice quiet person who would care for her and make her happy. Surreptitiously, she had screened through the potential suitors that had shown interest, and had been quite surprised to find that David Ambrose was among that number. Her only consolation was that Vanessa was a bit of a tomboy and had, thus far, shown little interest in men.

David was the current heir to the powerful Ambrose family, who was allowed significant leeway by the, somewhat, corrupt government on this small island state. The Ambrose were insular, and many people, even other wealthy families, were nervous around the family patriarch Albrecht Ambrose. Debra was secretly terrified of the man, even though she had never met him in person. In any event, it was exceptionally rare that he had ever been seen outside the halls of his stately residence.

Debra gave a sigh and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was now an older woman and her hair was greying over, but she wore her age with dignity and grace, and only in her eyes could one see that she had passed through hardships and sorrow and had come through stronger.

It was such hardships and sorrow that Debra wished to spare her daughter from, which she believed would befall Vanessa if she became involved with David – she had no dislike of the courteous young man, and even found him to be pleasant, but it was his family that made her anxious.

****************

The year was 1978 when Debra had first arrived on the islands of Casslan, she had come as a refugee and her name then had been Nakina Owusu. Like many, she was seeking to escape the vicious civil unrest in Africa and didn't care where she ended up, so long as it was as far away from the guns and hacking machetes as could be managed. A single refugee was not given too much attention as the country was undergoing internal decay under the failing communist government of the time.

Even with ease of entry, Nakina was still a single young woman, tribally raised and far from home – she had little understanding of the workings of the modern world. It was fortunate that there had been refugees who had come before her, and they had an impromptu set-up to aid people like herself.

Within two weeks she had a job as a counter hand in a local mini-market, but life was not made any easier; fluent in her native tongue, her English and French were poor, and as an illegal immigrant she was woefully underpaid and worked twice as hard. Yet it was either that or risk being returned to her country. Nakina choose to endure rather than return to a hell she had left behind.

Despite this, she was only surviving and she was miserable. With no idea where her remaining family was, and with no true friends, she tried to fit in by remaking her image, but it was a time when fashion magazines portrayed impossibly slender women with firm builds as the ideal type. Though not fat, she was larger-bodied than most women, and her sizeable breasts were soft and pendulous. The majority of the island's native people were of African descent, but her purer pedigree made her features distinctive and though it cost her dearly, she constantly spent her money on perfume to try and hide her strong body odour. The people who should have been her comrades teased her constantly, and, though Nakina Owusu smiled, she felt alone and depressed as never before in her life.

Sitting at her counter during work, she looked up to serve the next client. Whilst she didn't know every individual who shopped here, there was a certain clientele that came to this particular district, and she was certain this man was not one of them. Nakina always felt nervous with having to deal with Europeans or anyone of pale complexion, whom she had formerly only seen at a distance, and still lived with the dim preconception that they sold her fellow countrymen into slavery. This man was frowning over one of the larger hand-held phones of the period, and his displeased face seemed especially stern.

With some timidity, she began to punch in the items he wished to purchase, watching him nervously out of the corner of her eye. She suspected he might be intolerant and prone to violent outbursts for small mistakes. Suddenly he turned to her and smiled winningly – it had been the last thing she expected, and was suddenly confused. The neat stack of goods he had piled up, she toppled over and the violent tumble of items made her yelp in distress. He began to help her gather them up, laughing softly and without malice, all the while inquiring into the well-being of her person.

The manager came out and chastised her, then began apologising for her clumsy behaviour. To her eyes, he seemed a small nervous creature; eager to please, and even more eager to shift blame – she grimaced in disgust. Whilst the two of them exchanged words, Nakina was able to obtain a better look at the client. Though a white man, she could tell he was still fairly young, perhaps her own age. His hair was of a dark, almost dirty, blonde colouration, and she was amazed by glitter of his blue-grey eyes, which were as gentle as the morning sky – it was the first time she had seen such features up close. His mouth was wide and expressive, and his smile came easily. Once he had reassured the manager that all was well, he returned to her counter, much to her surprise.

"Do you think you could finish with my items, Miss..." he leaned forward to peer at her name tag, "Miss Nakina Owusu."

His manner was warm, even affable, and she felt her nervousness fading. Quickly she resumed processing his purchases and gave him the receipt, accepting the money he handed her and returning his change.

"I'm Michael," he said suddenly, and she was unsure how to respond, and smiled back instead. Perhaps there might be another customer? She looked behind him, but there was not a single person to be seen.

"Are you new to the islands?" he tried.

"Yes. New, two week ago, come," she answered, conscious of her poor English.

"Would French be easier for you?" he switched, believing he heard the faintest trace of French on her tongue.

"Yes, it is little easier for me," she replied, happier that she could manage.

****************

Michael returned regularly thereafter, almost on a weekly basis, and Nakina was at a loss, for he always seemed to find his way to her counter. She began to secretly fear that he might be an immigration officer who would soon find out she hadn't the proper permits to be in the country. Instead, he asked her out to dinner.

Coming from a culture of arranged marriages, she had limited notions with regards to courtship. She was a black woman and he a white man; the idea that he was interested in her as a woman did not even trespass upon her thoughts – instead she assumed he was interviewing her for some particular purpose that she hadn't yet discovered, and thus, despite his pleasantry, the entire ordeal was nerve-racking for her.

As the evening went on Michael slowly tried to ease her out of her shell, but she did so only reluctantly. As a quiet woman, used to allowing men to speak and dominate her life, that long-acquired view was profoundly ingrained. Seeing as a soft approach was producing limited results, Michael tried a different approach. He broke broke straight to heart of her concerns:

"Miss Owusu," his voice serious and formal, "Am I correct in assuming you're in Casslan without valid permits?"

As expected, it shook her badly, and, emotionally, she was suddenly quiet open.

"Is this what has been bothering you?" he laughed suddenly, making it clear he did not think much of the matter. "Please, put this aside – there is little reason for you to worry about this. The government of this country is quiet indebted, and they have little time to look for people who are here without proper permits."

"But..." she began.

"This country requires capable people, good people" he told her, "If you work hard, I am certain your lack of documentation will be overlooked, and you shall probably be given citizenship in the near future."

Nakina meditated over this for a space. Michael wanted to reassure her further, to state that she could turn to him if needed, but he felt it would have been an underhanded thing to do. He wanted to see her stand on her own feet, so that she might someday shine with her own light, instead of remaining in the shadow of others.

"Come Mademoiselle," he said, interrupting her thoughts, "I brought the beautiful lady out this evening so that she might enjoy herself – this is your night. Please be at ease."

It was worth something to see her wide-eyed expression. Michael wondered if he had overdone it – flowery expression came a little too easily in French. He looked at her, enjoying her rich dark beauty, and became aware of his own heartbeat. Her lack of fluency with the local languages made her seem charmingly naïve, but he had talked to her long enough to realise that she was quiet intelligent, and quick to understand all that was taught to her. Trying to seem offhand, he waved for the waiter.

Whilst he did so, Nakina sat silently opposite him, her cheeks feeling hot. Did he really think her beautiful? She considered herself plain looking, and her brush with fashion beauty had shaken her further. Looking over Michael, she tried to see if the compliment could be returned. She had seen other women looking at him, so she supposed he must be handsome, but try as she might she could not see that quality in him. Nakina decided she had only a curious fascination with him.

Certain members of staff had disparaging looks for her, but Michael's company soon made her forget the world around her. He was intelligent and witty, and entertained her with the dialects of five different languages in which he was fluent. He had a way of making her see her dullest aspects as shinning accomplishments, and, moreover, she realised she was laughing the night away. It had been a long, long time since she had laughed at anything, and she was sorry when the night finally came to an end. He finally drove her back to the dormitory that she shared with many other fellow workers.

At the door he left her, smiling warmly as he took a step away from her. "May I see you again, Mademoiselle?"

Nakina's voice felt hoarse, "I may be busy during the week. But I should like that."

"I notice you have improved your capability in English and French – you are quite exceptional to have done this so quickly." he complemented.

She could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest, her clothes felt unusually confining, and yet somehow too revealing. She also felt sudden disappointment. His silence was her cue to leave. There was an irrational need to prolong the moment. "You must be very clever," she said suddenly. "Despite your praise, I can barely manage, where you can speak five different tongues."

Though his eyes were gentle things, their gaze upon her suddenly sent goosebumps across her body. "Perhaps I could teach you."

Nakina stared at him, not trusting herself to speak. "There is so little time."

"Perhaps we can arrange a date when next we meet..."

Nakina thought she was about to urinate. "I must leave," she stuttered and raced inside.

****************

Nakina's room was a public sleeping area wherein others like her shared their space. In the oppressive night heat of an island summer, she moved quietly so as not to awaken the others. She stripped down and slipped into a scanty nightgown that was a size or two too small for her – a loan from the girl who slept opposite her.

Gently she slipped beneath the mosquito net that draped over her bed, rolling and stretching, moaning softly to herself. There was a deep and burning ache in her belly, glowing embers of loneliness and sex and restless youth. She was haunted by the face of her fair-skinned courtier.

As if by casual chance, her hand fell against her thigh and she brushed the velvet-smooth skin along the inside. Her fantasies were small, private things that the average woman might have considered mundane and unexciting. Now Michael had added a new foreign twist to them.

In them, she lay upon her bed, as she did now, save that she was naked and alone. Somewhere, there was the glow of candles, but it was otherwise dark. Her arms were stretched above her head, her hair washed and soft and spread beneath her head. Carelessly dropped about her body, the blossoms of exotic flowers in shades of red, pink and yellow. From the dark, Michael would come to her, lifting the thin material of her mosquito net to join her beneath, his naked white body oiled and silk-smooth. Upon her bed, he would kneel beside her, kissing her cheeks, her lips, her neck, whilst he ran long strong fingers across her body.

She could almost feel the smooth cream of his skin against hers, exquisitely pale against the rich black coffee of her skin. Nakina lacked the sexual imagination to take the fantasy further, nor did she dare – her body was already damp with sweat, and she had used her last bottle of cologne a few days ago. She sighed despondently, removing her hand, her fingertips coming away wet and slippery.

The following day found her surly and irritable, which continued throughout the rest of the day. Even two days later, she remained somewhat gloomy until Michael came back to see her during the day, and arranged for a place for them to meet up.

****************

Whilst Nakina stumbled initially, Michael was charming and gentle with her, and soon she began to quickly pick up the basics. Though she was clumsy at first, Michael was never lacking in patience. Now they met with each other two or three times a week at his apartment. He made no attempt to touch her, and Nakina was both relieved and disappointed.

They conversed about many things in general in an attempt to improve her familiarity with words. He had also been teaching her to read and now she peered at some nursery books with large letters he had bought for her to practice with, whilst waiting for him to return from the kitchen. A few moments later he brought out refreshments and they resumed her study.

Reading the words was different from simply speaking them, and some of them caused her some measure of frustration. Continuous talking had left her throat dry and she stopped for a moment to drink. Michael, who had been sitting behind her organising his own work, looked up when she stopped reading and approached at her shoulder to see what might causing her difficulty. The sudden heat of his breath against her neck startled her.

Given what transpired next, it would be hard to believe that had she remained calm, nothing might have ever come of their friendship, now, or in the future. Instead, just as the day of their first meeting, she overreacted in surprise and her glass was toppled over, spilling the contents in many directions. The juice was ice-cold, causing her to leap to her feet from the chilling shock. Calmly, Michael immediately took charge of the situation, bringing tissues and placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. Slowly, he began to dab ineffectually at her soaked clothes, which now clung revealingly to her body.

The atmosphere was at that surreal point between fantasy and reality, of which neither of them were unaware of it. Michael had a sudden fascination with her lips and she with his. That slowness was suddenly broken when he jerked forward, pulling her to him, his own clothes absorbing the damp from hers. Nakina made a violent surge and pushed him away, her lips tingling, her heart racing.

"Michael, perhaps we shouldn't..." she whispered as though afraid of an illicit affair that might be discovered. He began to shower kisses across her face and neck, his hands describing the contours of her luscious body.

"Your shirt will be spoilt," she gasped in protestation as she saw the angry orange stain on the white fabric. He removed it and flung it aside like some useless garment. Though slender, he was well-built and healthy. Against the coolness of her wet dress, she could feel the heat of his body burning through.

Before she aware of it, he had unbuttoned the front of her dress and slipped it down, over her shoulders, allowing it to hang about her waist. Her breasts were bare, for she was not too comfortable with the confining embrace of a bra, and no one in her dormitory had possessed one to fit her. Sliding from her neck, he began to lick and suck at the residue upon her bosom. With his warm tongue gliding over her smooth skin, she involuntarily clutched at his head, her fingers sliding through the smooth strands that tickled the sensitive skin between them.

His hands slid down the arch of her back, further sending her dress down her body, clutching at the ample cheeks of her backside, as he slid the offending garment free from her body. Against her skin, those hands were hard and powerful as he held her close against him. Against the base of her stomach, she felt the rigid length of his manhood pressed between them, and the heat that radiated from it was even more intense than that of his body.

With a final deep kiss, she found herself upon his bed. Michael was moving with reckless haste in his efforts to be free of the last of his clothing. Nakina found herself shrinking from the intensity of his desire, but she could only watch him as one hypnotised. As his trousers and underwear came off together, she was shocked at the sight of his erect penis; she expected it to have been slender as his body, not the rigid, heavy thing that now confronted her. His pubic hair was light like his hair and his testes weighty.

Finally free of his clothes, he crawled over her. The sight of her lying beneath him was becoming overwhelming; the pulse in his temples hurt and his shaft twitched obscenely to his every heartbeat. Nakina had been at the heart of his most forbidden fantasies for months now, having long since tired of the porcelain doll-like beauties he was acquainted with. There was not one part of her body that had been made or tidied to please the whims of fashion – she stood wholly on her own account. All this bound within the delicious pseudo-taboo of an interracial coupling.


Untamed Passion



Physical lust had been his first impulse when he had first seen this African beauty at the counter, but in his courtship of her, he had discovered a wonderful woman to whom he could give his affection and she would not demand anything of him in return, save himself. Sexual want made his actions forceful, if not rough, but the madness that rose to choke him came from an internal struggle to escape the feelings that threatened to burst his heart.

The hand which he used to stroke and caress her face was gentle, but the knee he used to nudge her legs open was not – he was only surprised that her legs came apart so easily, almost willingly. Her eyes, which were dark, now seemed like pools of liquid black, and shone as if on the brink of tears. Her chest heaved and her lips trembled as though on the verge of words. Pressing closer, supporting his weight, he settled between her legs, his erection nestling upon the kinky midnight bush on her thighs. Michael nuzzled at her neck, breathing heavily.

"Nakina, you're just so beautiful," he whispered. "I've been wanting to make love to you for ages now."

Nakina felt herself melting at his words, her body producing the physical proof of that arousal. The air from the overhead fan tickled her secret lips with its cool touch, and she shivered as much from it as from the hands that were now stroking her hips and her arms. Suddenly Michael bucked his hips and she felt the hot fleshy head slide and settle against her opening. Without pause, he pushed forward to part her slick ebony folds with his throbbing white shaft, sinking into the delicious pink regions within.

Though aroused, Nakina was far more nervous, and her muscles clenched tightly against the intrusion. Michael pushed through painfully, immersing himself fully and let out low growl as he did so. Nakina watched as the light curls of his pubic hair pulled away from the dark of hers, sighing as he vacated her body, gasping as he joined them again. She placed a hand on his waist to try and moderate his movements, but the faint sheen of sweat caused it to slide over his firm buttocks, exciting him further.

Beneath him she cried out, not certain whether from pleasure or pain. She had no knowledge of a pleasure that could cause a woman to cry out, and the pain she felt was very real. As he pulled out, she clenched harder to try and deny him passage. Despite her dread, she was quite aroused, and her body betrayed her with its sweet secretions, ensuring he had a way to push back into her body.

For his part, Michael was overexcited, and her clenching muscles only made it worse for him. After only a dozen or so plunging thrusts of his hips, he felt his body tense suddenly. It was too soon and he was desperate to prolong the affair – he began to thrust deeper and faster into his African lover. Though he closed his eyes to try and calm himself down, the image of her sooty body was even more vivid in his mind's eye – he was assailed from within, as well as from without. He felt a tinge of anger at his inability to have carried on longer, but his selfish male pride flinched at the thought that Nakina would not find pleasure at her first union with him. He could stop now and wait for himself to calm down, but to a man it was almost as good as admitting defeat.

Nakina was startled as he took three great lunging stabs into her, then cried out as if he had been mortally wounded. The full weight of his body pinned her down as he collapsed upon her. She was confused, never having seen a man react so fiercely during sex, her own experiences recalling them as clumsy affairs that ended in a low prolonged grunt, followed by the separation of flesh. Though bewildered, her ego was tickled.

"Michael?" she squeaked quietly, afraid somebody had heard the outcry. She anticipated the door bursting open and rude eyes come to gaze upon his pale body lying atop hers, amidst upset sheets and scattered pillows.

An indeterminate time passed before he finally pulled away from her. Slowly he lifted his body away from hers, slipping out of her, to leave himself suspended above her, whereupon he kissed her forehead and began to nuzzle her face. His eyes were no longer wild and were quite sane.

It seemed that what had just transpired only dawned upon her then, and with frantic haste she slipped away from beneath him. She came to sit at the edge of the bed, her back turned to him, forbidding as a wall. There she sat wide-eyed to look into the mirror set on the wall beside the bed, her trembling legs clenched together. Her hair was a terrible mess, its thick kinky consistency giving her a wild look, whilst she shivered from the down-draft of the ceiling fan, and her buttocks, now unusually sensitive, was tickled by the gentle fabric beneath. Or was she still feeling the caress of his hand and the sting of his groin?

Unreasonable panic set in and she contemplated snatching up her belongings and running out of the door, naked if need be. Now that he was done and had used her body for his pleasure, would it be the end of their relationship?

The bed shifted behind her, but she did not look back to watch him get dressed and leave. Her surprise was something close to shock when he placed an arm around her waist, and she turned to gaze down at him smiling lazily at her. Looking at him, hair slightly dishevelled, she still could not find it in herself to say that he was handsome; he was... beautiful. Yes, that was it, she thought, a touch breathlessly.

After watching each other for what seemed a great passage of time, Michael sat up, pressing himself against her back, stroking her waist and shoulders, and brushing his lips against her neck. "You are despondent ma Cherie."

"This is just..." she began, but had nothing to say in reality. She was looking at him in the mirror as he watched her in return. Coiling himself about her, Michael continued to explore her body with his hands and lips, whilst his taut thighs pressed firmly against her soft hips. Part of her wanted to partake, but the rest of her was too embarrassed to even move. Michael began to breath deeply against her, as one might do when trying to perceive an elusive fragrance. Nakina's eyes flew open and began to pull away, mortified.

"You have a wonderful scent Miss Owusu," he murmured against her neck with a kiss, his fingers digging gently into her body. After all the teasing she had received, this development amazed her – she watched him in the mirror, nuzzling her neck and shoulders, his face far away and serene.

Pressed against her, she could feel the rousing of his body, and her breath came in short, quick pants. Michael gathered her breast from over her stomach, cradling them with his arm. From his embrace, they spilled over, and Nakina wished once again that her body was firm like that of a fashion model, but if Michael found them unattractive, his was a different reaction, for he began to caress them as though precious treasures.

Again, Nakina found her body reacting to his touch – he seemed to know her body better than she did herself, and suddenly wanted to sink back into his pampering embrace. By now there was no mistaking his arousal – the burning heat that pressed firmly at the base of her back was unmistakable. Slowly, she relaxed into him and felt herself being lowered back upon the bed.

Michael leaned over her, his eyes worshipping her in silent holy appreciation. He drew a pair of fingers between her breasts, over the rounded swell of her belly, down through the thickset bush, to find, at last, the mound of her engorged sex. With gentle motions he parted the fleshy lips with strong white fingers, stroking her gently, then dipped them partly into her. Her gasp was a soft beautiful thing, her wide eyes flickering between his taunting face and the hand that brought sobbing pleasure to her groin.

Under her wandering hand, she felt the firm muscles of his thighs, and her cheeks grew hot as her body remembered the force with which he could drive them. Her hand did not move any higher, at least until he took it with his own hand and placed it where he had secretly wanted her to explore. In her soft palm, she was amazed by the unyielding consistency that was both hard and gentle at the same time – this was the first time she had touched a man in the fullness of his erection, just managing to encircle him with thumb and forefinger. The thought of how much bigger it was than his fingers made her breathless.

Over her nipples, his tongue flickered like a live thing; licking, teasing and torturing her all at one. He squeezed at her breasts, his pale flesh digging, his tongue a pink flickering thing against her wide dusky nipple. Then he moved to the next, and she arched her back longingly at him. Her exposed nipple glistened with saliva and hardened in the chill flow of the air that teased her with its passing.

In the palm of her hand, it seemed that a living furnace burned there. She looked there, and what she held seemed cool and gentle, but it pulsed and throbbed angrily in her hand. Without the melanin content of a darker man, every bump and ridge seemed angrily visible, the veins straining against the pale velvet-smooth skin, and the swollen head was dark, as if ready to burst from the desire she had instilled in him. She had never seen anything so deliciously lewd in her life. A desire to fondle him overcame her, to mimic the wicked gripping strokes of her slippery passage.

Michael was no less interested in looking upon the intimate regions of her body – he had leaned back, stretching his chest as one in sheer pleasure, but was secretly looking upon her. His fingers worked intently at her swollen lips and within. The pink that surrounded his fingers and clutched at them, he had seen in other women, but never had it seemed so delectable as here upon her – the dark lips and black wiry hair highlighted it in lascivious and sinful detail. He couldn't wait any longer – it was his engorged shaft which needed that intimate attention, not his fingers.

Slipping from her grasp, he set his knees between her legs once again. This time she spread herself wide for him and the sight made his erection strain painfully, rising to point upward. Its entirety was now the same colour that only its head had formerly been. He wanted to take her violently and make her scream with delight, but he also wanted to perversely delay the moment. Kneeling between her legs, his own thighs at either side of buttocks, he spread her lips with the head of his throbbing phallus, sliding in the wetness of her desire.

Nakina watched, entranced by this slower seductive approach. He immersed himself slowly, exhaling with every inch that sunk into her, whilst she inhaled with each passing moment. At last he reached full length and he leaned forward, placing his hands at her hips, his arms brushing them, whilst his face hovered above her chest. She believed he would seek her breasts again, and she cupped one for him as if in offering, but when she could not control it with one hand alone, she crossed her arms and gathered them up, presenting them to him.

Taking a dark nipple into the warm sanctuary of his mouth, he licked and nibbled at the thumb-sized nub until it hardened. One of her hands came away to caress his head, and she threw her own head back in a sigh as he began to make slow, deep thrusts into her body. Twisting his hands, he leaned fully on his wrists, so that he could grope and kneed at the generous portions of her hips and cheeks, squeezing them and pulling them apart to wickedly expose her intimate regions.

At last she gave out a groan, and Michael swelled with triumph. He was straining with himself now, trying not overdo himself – he was intent that they should both achieve orgasm together. Though Nakina was possessed of a powerful body odour which embarrassed her and was constantly teased for it, Michael inhaled deeply this tantalising scent. It pulled at the base animal parts of his psyche, and his arousal was something of a primal ingrained thing, that plucked, with maddening fingers, at his more civilised being, urging him to drop the pretence of manners.

Now he left her breasts, so that he might watch her face and clutched her hips strongly. He began to buck fiercely and her body was rocked by his efforts, their flesh striking wetly against each other. Nakina had to grip the sheets in an effort to steady herself. For now he stuck to deep rhythmic thrusts to keep his calm, but whilst his movements were smooth, his hips lunged too violently for his own liking upon re-entering her.

Nakina felt every squirming thrust within her, and her body gripped him snugly as though it had been moulded solely for him. She was only slightly bemused that she had been so willing to give herself to the embrace of a white man, and that her body was accepting him with no qualms, even working lustfully to aid him in this seductive endeavour. She watched him with a strange detachment, feeling blissfully content, and for a moment she was free from all bodily and worldly concerns.

Then the pleasure surged. It ripped through her, and she was dragged back down from her lofty heights, to partake in the base temptations of the flesh.

She threw back her head and cried out from the agony of it. The pleasure was as fierce as pain. The sheet she gripped was pulled free of its moorings and was useless to steady her, yet still she clutched at it. Her legs snaked about him, trying to caress him. The surge had died down, but she was still riding the flood and she jerked her head to watch him penetrate her. Her face felt damp and chill, but so lost was she to emotion that she could not tell if it was sweat or tears or both.

Emboldened, Michael now took firm hold of her hips and as he thrust into her, he pulled her body into his, sliding her on the bed as one possessed of superhuman strength. Momentarily he tore his eyes from her face to look down between them so that he might see, with his own eyes, the proof of their joining. His shaft glistened lewdly as he pulled it from her midnight body, and then her grasping legs tightened about his waist to pull him, gasping, back into those greedy depths.

It was all becoming too much for his senses – his sacs felt heavy and laden; aching from having held back one orgasm, now a second, and since he was certain her orgasm was inevitable, it would be just as well to end it. For now – there would always be time in the future for more exploration. Kneeling upright, he unhooked her legs from his waist and set them upon his shoulders, whilst Nakina watched him with some interest. Finally he began to push them forward and she gasped anew as she felt him sliding even deeper into her body, gasped again as he briefly touched her deepest regions.

Finally he began anew and Nakina's soft body began to quiver from the force of it. His body never seemed to leave hers, but his hips worked relentlessly to drive his shaft into her shuddering depths. They both were aware that this would be the last hurdle of this desperate race.

Her hips and legs were wide and thickset, and all she could see of him was his face, his imprisoning arms, and firm thighs astride her buttocks. She looked at his face, his eyes closed, his mouth kissing, licking, nibbling at her ankle and the delicate skin behind her knee. She looked at his arms that gripped her legs tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh, preventing her escape. His pale thighs felt firm and slick against the soft dark mounds of her lascivious cheeks.

As new lovers, they had not yet come to know each others limits properly and they strained against each other in an unruly manner, rather than complementing one another. Each of them strived to hold back the orgasm that was only moments away and their voices betrayed that strain. They did not hear the sharp echo of a woman's high-heels in the corridor outside as she passed by, but that woman heard them and paused outside, her groceries forgotten in hand. Nakina's feminine moans and wails intermingled with Michael's deeper groans and grunts, and left little to the imagination as to exactly what was going behind that closed door.

She knew the owner of that room, had even fantasised about him on lonely nights, but this activity was unprecedented for him. She tried to imagine his taste in women, so as to better picture who exactly was sharing his bed at that moment. Since he was a white man, of decidedly European origin, she automatically assumed a woman of the same. Between the wantonness of that woman's voice, and her own preconceptions, she decided upon the clichéd stereotypical busty blonde bimbo, and not for a moment did she consider the more erotic sight of an exotic tangle of ebony and ivory limbs struggling amidst loose satin sheets.

The hallway was deserted, so she edged just a little closer and gingerly placed her ear to the door. This close, she could hear the contact of their bodies striking wetly against each other, and soon her own heartbeat was one of the sounds she heard. Surely he was taking the woman for all she was worth. The woman within called out her partner's name and it seemed she had a French accent, and again, the picture conjured by Michael's neighbour was far from the truth. Taking off her heels, she raced quickly to her room with the sound of their voices still ringing in her ears. She tossed the groceries aside, slid out of her panties and fell upon her bed fully clothed, where her fingers began to bring her relief. "Lucky bitch..." she muttered hoarsely without heat, as she began to dip her fingers, listening to the sounds of her rutting neighbours through the wall.

Meanwhile Michael and Nakina remained unaware, caught within their private world of bliss that was soon to be shattered. Michael felt the twitch and the tightening of his scrotum as it pulled close. Nakina also understood by the look on his face, and as his mouth pulled into a grimace, she released the sheets, pulling her legs closer to her body. The loss of support, provided by her legs, caused him to pitch forward in surprise, leaning upon her heavily.

He gasped and she gasped as he came to touch and rest against her deepest recess, their bodies welded against each other. With a low cry, Michael felt the unbearable rush of that thick white flood that surged through his engorged shaft, to end in the wicked spurting spasms that is an epiphany to the lewdness of the male orgasm. The flooding gush was that of two orgasms; the one now, and the one he had held back from before. It filled her so completely, that even he felt its hot swirling embrace. Michael's body shuddered and his groan was a feral, animal thing. Nakina's own climax was no less delicious, nor less wicked.

Deep within her, she felt hot swirl of his body's offering and it plucked at something deep within her. Her body understood its function and did not care for the circumstances under which it found itself; only that fulfilled its purpose. A first spasm, then the next, and another, until it rippled unbearably and pulsed along the length of his intruding member. Her slippery cavity had already taken his substantial donation, but her body demanded everything he had to offer and its attention was merciless. Nakina's cry was agonised and triumphant.

Michael's strength completely gave out, and as Nakina felt him lean further forward, she parted her legs, allowing him to come to rest fully along her body. His head came to rest against her neck, and Nakina placed her hands along his back to hold him close. Turning to look at his face, her expression might have been as dazed as the first African girl to have willingly shared a bed with a European colonial, and his not much different. This time the weight of his body felt reassuring and she looked at their reflections in the mirror, her eyes slowly beginning to close.




Untamed Passion



************

When Nakina awoke, the sun had set some time ago. She had been tucked beneath the covers; her clothes had been folded and were on a chair nearby. A door opened to admit Michael back into the room, a towel about his waist and he was drying his hair with another. Lowering the towel he found her watching him and smiled, his hair a delicate mess. Unconcerned with this, he came to sit next to her, the bed bending beneath him as he sat.

Though covered, her shoulders and arms were bare. He ran the back of his fingers along the smooth plump skin. "Did you sleep well princess?"

"I am well," she replied modestly, her cheeks flushed and hot.

"It is already late, would you care to remain here tonight?"

She shot an alarmed look, but goosebumps ran across her body. Did he still want her? Her body felt stretched and ached pleasurably, but she had work the next day – his eyes were playful and she suspected he would not let her rest the entire night were she to accept. She declined.

Michael was disappointed, but he accepted in good grace. "Do you wish to return home immediately? Won't you at least remain for dinner? I have already prepared a small repast and we can leave immediately when you're done."

Since he had prepared, she did not refuse, but ate gingerly – it was usually the woman's duty to prepare the meal in her culture. She looked about the apartment properly for the first time, having been too intent on her lessons previously. It was a spacious, but spartan environment, and though the bed was comfortable and luxurious, it seemed out of place.

"Do you live here?" she asked doubtfully.

"No," he replied honestly. "This place is more like a refuge for me, and the place I come to sort out my work or just to get away from the world for a little while. Truthfully, I don't use it that much."

"Your work?"

"Yes, with pharmaceuticals. Medicine and that sort of business. I deal with the running of some the family funded hospitals on the island, and oversee projects to manufacture new and better types of medicines."

Looking over him, she felt a little tongue tied. His bearing and expression told her he was proud and confident, but she reflected he must have passed through some years and fires to acquire it. She inquired into his age and he answered, and she was surprised and more than a little shocked. It was not Nakina's way to tell lies, but when he asked hers, she subtracted five years from her own to match his. There was no indication that he disbelieved her, but his trust stung her conscience – men were supposed to be a little older than the woman he bedded. Nakina was learning that things were not the same in the outside world.

Finally they finished the meal and Michael drove her back. When they arrived, he said to her: "Would you like to come and stay with me?"

****************

Two months went by, and the apartment changed to reflect a new, more feminine, presence. Such a sight greeted Michael as he came in for the afternoon. Nakina had risen to greet him as he came in and her smile was incredibly beautiful. She returned to her seat where she had been. Michael's assessment of her intellect had been accurate – she was now quite able to read more complex texts and her speech was almost perfect in both languages. Unfortunately other's had not been so convinced, as he had found out when he had tried to inquire into better paid jobs for her. His only relief was that things were slowly changing in the world.

Nakina had been nervous during the first few weeks, fearing that he would tire of her and tell her to leave. It had not happened. Michael always seemed happy to see her and his desire for her never seemed to wane. Nor had hers remained the same, but had grown to almost match his own insatiable appetite. He watched her for a while, until he deemed her interest in the book was waning, and then he came to her, nuzzling at her neck from behind. She was used to this now and leaned her head to grant him access to a longer stretch, having come to understand that her scent was an aphrodisiac to him, and she was no longer embarrassed when he breathed close to her.

They were quickly undressed and quickly in bed, and though they could not tell, that bed had the faint scent of sweat and sex. Upon that bed, they made for a strange couple; he athletic and slim and she plumply voluptuous. Though being larger of body than him, she discovered he was surprisingly strong, and now he used that strength to wrestle her down – the strength merely a symbol of his masculinity and her submission the measure of her femininity.

Soon he was between legs and sliding lower, his head seeking the mound of her sex. She had resisted it at first, but now had come to crave this erotic tantalisation of her body. Her heavy legs were seductively draped about his shoulders, but she struggled against the hands that held her own down, allowing for the movement of only her head and torso. It was only part of the play to excite him, and soon it subsided when she began to gulp for breath.

Michael had settled into this, always intent that she should experience one climax. He teased with his tongue, parting the black velvet lips to reveal the quivering pink flesh beneath. She had learned to trim and shave, but he forbade her remove it all; the powerful musk between her legs was powerfully arousing to him. When she struggles grew weak and her body writhed, he would release her so that he could also pleasure her further with his fingers.

At times their lovemaking was lazy, at other times fierce. Love made their sex tender, difficult days brought lustful struggle. Now that she had access to sex for pleasure, Nakina spared no effort in her free time to explore carnal secrets with her white lover. Though a seasoned partner, Michael did not deny her anything in this regard – he was eager as she, for no woman of paler complexion had provided such intense sexual intimacy as had Nakina's ebon embrace. He was not sure why he desired her, only that she inspired him to climb to greater heights, and at any rate, he rarely thought about the existence of other women now.

Nor was their relationship merely carnal. Every day, every hour they spent together heightened their feelings towards each other. If they were not spending their hours in bed, they were always in each others company, performing simple daily routines together or reassuring each other with gentle touches. Moments of frustration were few and far between, and anger had not raised its ugly head. For his part, Michael was contented and happy, but Nakina carried a sadness that she would not be able to fulfil her duty as a woman for him.

What they didn't know was that their time of bliss was running short.

****************

One day, near the end of their third month together, Nakina returned home to find Michael speaking on the phone. His voice was calm, but his face was frowning. He set the phone down with a perfunctory "I understand."

"Is everything alright Michael?" she asked in the soft voice he loved.

He pushed his hair back, smiled and gave a sigh. "Family business. It seems I have been nominated to represent the family in an overseas venture. They require my presence for an extended period."

"Do you not want to go?" she asked, thrilled that he would rather remain with her.

"Usually I wouldn't mind. But this requires my attention for two whole months – and I can't think of a single viable excuse to say no."

Nakina felt the bitter stab of disappointment. Two months. It felt painful when he was absent for three days. However, as an outsider, she did not want to interfere with anything pertaining to his family. She looked him over, appreciating his furrowed brow that sought a way to delay the trip, or lessen the ache of separation. With a probing kiss, he left her three days later – the maximum delay he could manage to the trip.

Occupying herself every day, the weeks went by quickly and she learned more in the ways of independent living. There were new dishes to learn, new additions to be made to their abode, and without Michael's presence she also learned the pleasure her own fingers could bring. There was no substitute for his touch, and often she would await his daily calls, to describe what she wished of him in the quiet dark of the night, her cheeks flushed with hot shame and burning desire. She reflected that her somewhat immobile lifestyle, and the fact that Michael was not present to make her sweat, was causing her to gain weight. Perhaps being indoors for too long was also the cause of her dizzy spells.

Michael came back, not a day or nor an hour later than he was due. Nor did he waste time returning to his proper home as he should have. He came straight from the airport to his love-nest, wherein awaited a nest of a different sort, one much more delectable than a simple nest of concrete and furniture. It was half past two in the morning and she was asleep. He had a sudden desire to strip, toss the duvet from her body and make her squeal, but he felt begrimed and tired after the trip and so delayed it in favour of a steaming hot shower.

Emerging fresh and fully awake, he stood at the side of the bed, naked and pale. For a moment he waited above the covers, reconstructing her dark body in his mind, challenging himself to abstain, failing embarrassingly. The fiery enthusiasm had cooled, but not his desire, so he slowly eased himself beneath the sheets, pressing his pale flesh against the hot black of hers. Arousal was almost instantaneous and his erection prodded proudly against her dark fleshy cheeks.

Was she asleep? Her burning slit, slippery and wet, seemed to suggest that she was not, but she did not respond when he began to caress her hips. Michael could not have known that her fingers had induced this condition only half an hour earlier – Nakina had learned to pleasure herself only after he had left: he had never seen her do so during their time together.

Perhaps she was tired. Not wanting to disturb her, he gently slithered into her clutching depths, with the intent of falling asleep within her in this erotic posture.

"Michael?" she groaned, as she awoke to the invasion of her body. Her buttocks squirmed against him and he gripped her waist to pull himself further inside.

"I have returned, my love." he whispered huskily as he penetrated her as deeply as her body would allow, and began to caress her thighs.

She curled her legs and stretched her body with abandon, her arms thrown over her head, and, having set her in motion, his hand began to wander higher to prepare her for the act of love. "Michael, I want you, I need you." she moaned softly.

"I'm here, ma Cherie," he whispered. He grasped her hips and began a slow tantalising rhythm, feeling every inch of the slippery silk of her depths as she glided over him. Her groans encouraged him to bolder action and he began to praise her body with hands, sliding across her smooth hips and felt the curve of her abdomen.

That wandering hand froze. The swell of her belly, once soft and chubby, now felt stretched and tight under his fingertips. He explored more fully with a circling inspection of his palm. It made sense of course – from the very first day there had not been a moment where they had utilised any form of protection, and his seed had never gone to waste. This was the inevitable conclusion to their passion: his child safely nestled within her womb. Yet she was to surprise him again.

The sudden change of motion had caught her attention and she twisted about to look at him. Her lazy smile said she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Forgive me," she murmured sleepily, "but it seems I have not been getting enough exercise whilst you were gone, and appear to gotten a little fat."

He was more than a little dumbstruck and searched her face for a sign she was making a joke, but it seemed she was quite serious. She could feel his searching eyes in the gloom and fidgeted a little nervously. Michael himself was a bit at a loss. "Nakina, what do you mean by fat? You are heavy with child."

"With child?" she said, somewhat wide-eyed and her voice a little thin.

He could not credit this coming from someone like Nakina. "You're pregnant."

Nakina looked at him blankly for a moment. Then her eyes rolled back and she fainted for the first time in her life.

****************

When she regained consciousness, the familiar softness of Michael's bed was gone. Instead, the bed she found herself upon was hard and narrow, and there was a scent of medicine in the air. A drip was attached to her arm and she understood that she was in hospital. Why was she here? Michael had returned... late in the night it seemed, and...

Looking down, she touched her swollen belly. It all made so much sense now, yet she had genuinely thought it was just some extra weight. How was this possible? She searched desperately for some dim memory, but couldn't remember any such event, and she felt tearful. The last time she had done so, seemed impossibly long ago. The door to the room opened to admit Michael, who upon seeing she was awake, came quickly to her side. Why would he smile in such a situation? He took her hand as he sat at her bedside.

"It appears that sudden tension combined with low blood sugar caused you to faint," he said, giving her hand a quick squeeze. "It nothing serious – they'll keep you for observation and you'll be out at the end of the day."

"Michael," she began, squeezing back strongly, "I'm sorry. I don't know who it was. Believe me, I've tried to remember, but I just don't know!"

Disturbed by her tears and this revelation, Michael moved closer. "Who, Nakina? What is this about? I do not understand your meaning."

"The baby's father!" she cried openly now, "I can't remember anyone except you!"

"But... it's mine. Right?" Michael was confused and uncertain at this point. Although it was a possibility, he doubted Nakina would have been seeing another man. The stage of development was advanced, and surely coincided with the time they had both started seeing each other.

"That's impossible!" she answered, trying to hold back.

"Why?"

Nakina was no less hesitant to discuss such topics than most people might have been. It had been the spice in their relationship, but now it seemed a barrier. There was no way around it however. "Well... its just... you're a European man and I'm a woman from Africa, and..."

Michael almost fell off his chair in surprise at what she was suggesting. He didn't want to laugh at this piece of her innocence, but it finally crept out until she clutched at his arm. "What is wrong?" she asked in alarm.

He told her. It felt more than a little strange to explain something that everyone else would have taken for granted. Was there still places in Africa that thought like that? She seemed to be absorbing it very slowly and he wanted to laugh again.

A small knock on the door announced the presence of the doctor, but he did not come into the room. He was reminding Michael that it would be best if he left for now. Visiting hours be damned, thought Michael and gave her hand another squeeze, "I'll come to collect you later in the day when they discharge you, just bear with it until then."

She nodded her understanding and he touched her cheek before leaving the room. The doctor looked between the two of them and then also left. Nakina relaxed back onto the bed, not caring for prejudice. Her anxiety and fright was draining away, now replaced with dawning contentment, even happiness – it seemed that she would be able to fulfil her role as a woman for him after all. She was only a little embarrassed for her outdated beliefs, of which she was still struggling to shake off the last shreds, and she squirmed at the thought that she was carrying a white man's child in her womb.

The door opened again, shaking her out of her reverie, as a nurse came in to make the rounds. She was a pretty native girl, of average height and caramel skin. They both greeted one another and the girl went straight to looking over the reports and checking her drip and medications.

Whilst the nurse worked, Nakina lay back to think about how their lives were going to change. Again her thoughts were disturbed, when she realised that the girl was scrutinising her closely. Suddenly her eyes lighted up, "Oh! You're the one everyone has been talking about!"

"Talking about?" Nakina asked startled. "What do you mean?"

"Yes! You're the woman whom Michael Ambrose has been seeing – I just saw him leave your room! You are new to the country, yes? God, you're a fast mover! How much has he been paying you per night?"

Nakina was shocked, and at a loss for words. This slip of a girl was mocking her! Despite this, the girl seemed more like an excited child having heard an interesting piece of gossip – her attention was not focussed on Nakina, and now she moved on without waiting for an answer.

She looked down, having just noticed Nakina's expectant condition. Her eyes seemed wide with surprise, and, unless Nakina missed her guess, a hint of envy. "You're already this far along? You must have been milking him for months now, I'm so jealous!"

Leaning in as if to a fellow conspirator, she continued: "You must have made tons off of him by now! I hope you charged extra for letting him have you without protection – I'm amazed he's still around after all of this, most guys would have left the moment they found out... you know, about the baby thing, especially with a black girl. Either he's more responsible than he looks, or you've been driving him so crazy in bed that he doesn't want to let you go! Whichever way, you're going to be set for life."

Finally finding her voice, the nurse-girl stepped back in surprise as Nakina shook her off angrily, "How dare you! I am no such woman as to sell my body for the pleasure of men – Monsieur Michael and I are in a serious relationship!"  

"You haven't seriously fallen in love, have you?" came the wide-eyed response. "You're new to this sort of thing aren't you? I'm sorry, but it doesn't quite work that way around here, you are not likely to end up as..."

Nakina cut her off: "How could you take me for some kind of cheap... cheap..." she could not finish the sentence. She understood the concept, but Michael had not been teaching her the more vulgar aspects of the language, and so she lacked the words.

"I'm sorry," said the girl modestly, even genuinely. "I see I went the wrong way about this. Here on Casslan, well, everyone's got their own communities, you know what I mean? White among whites, black among blacks. There's no real trouble between us, thank God; no apartheid or that sort of thing – it's just the way its always been since the colonial era, and everyone tends to stick to that because they figure it keeps things peaceful-like. I guess I mistook you, 'cause the usual reason most of us 'native' girls meet with... 'those' kinds of guys is to, you know, make a little extra. Romance don't really tend to happen, or just falls apart so quickly. When I heard that Michael Ambrose was your, uh, patron, well... 'Michael Ambrose' would be the least likely man on this island to get involved with a, you know, sister. So when I heard, I assumed, probably wrongly, that it was just a, um, financial relationship. I didn't mean no harm."

With this crash-course in the politics of racial entanglement on Casslan, Nakina felt a sense of apprehension regarding Michael. She had spent so much time with him that she hadn't really been examining the working and attitudes of the islands. Lying here without any ability to question him, she could only hope their relationship was not like that. Her attendant finished with her duties and gave her a long hard look, then decided to speak frankly to her.




Untamed Passion



"You know, I'd like to wish you luck and all, but in all honesty, you're not likely to end up as Mrs. Ambrose. Even if Michael Ambrose is serious, I'll bet you his family won't be – the senior Ambrose especially. The most that you should really expect is to become... something like a mistress, you know? But I guess that would hurt your pride, right? It's unfortunate, but many generations have painted such things in poor light; in most circles you're only going to be seen as his mistress at best and whore at worst. I'm sorry, my big mouth really made a mess of things, I guess."

Nakina lay back heavily against her pillow, seemingly numb of body and mind; the girl noted this and felt somewhat bad about the whole event – this woman had seemed so happy and lively when she had just come in. She tried to think of anything that she seen or heard that would cheer her up. There was that one thing, she thought of at last.

"You know," she said to Nakina as she left the room, leaning at the doorway, "when Michael left your room, he seemed really happy, even excited. So maybe he is serious and you're a lucky gal. I'm not saying it means anything, but... just in case you wanted to know."

This little confession did cheer Nakina, but not much, and when Michael came to collect her later, he found her in much the same state. He watched her worriedly on the way home.

****************

Watching him as he prepared dinner, Nakina continued to replay what she had been told through her mind. Michael came and set the table, placing food, candles and wine before her. Seeing that she somewhat unresponsive, he spoke first. "What is wrong, ma Cherie?"

Nakina looked at him for a moment, then recounted all that she had been told in the hospital whilst Michael served her. When she was done, he was still for a while before he spoke. "That is all true I suppose, and it is an unfortunate aspect of this place. Life isn't usually pretty, even when something has been done with the best of intentions. Don't let it get you down though, it's not as widespread as it might sound."

"Things are always going to remain this way, unless..." he paused to fill a glass of wine, "certain brave and outspoken were to try and change the common view of things. It usually takes something like that to get things moving in a different direction."

He set the glass down, and Nakina looked up to see him smiling gently as he offered her a glass. "I really like you Michael, but I don't want to end up as a mistress, even if it is to remain with you," she said at last as she took the glass from him.

"And I don't intend that you should end up as a single mother," he toasted her, "so why don't we hurry up and make you Nakina Ambrose?"

Nakina would have dropped the glass, but Michael had come to know her well and was ready. His hand closed about her trembling fingers as the wine began to slip. "So?"

"But your family, they will..."

"Come to see and respect the woman I am in love with." he finished for her. He knew it would be harder than that, but he was willing to try and make it work.

Taking her own glass with both hands, she drank quickly, choking slightly on the alcohol. "Why are we drinking this?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, but I thought we would celebrate the baby," he explained apologetically, "and to wonderful things to come."

The glass was refilled and she drank more slowly this time, Michael watching the soft ripples along her throat. They ate in silence for the most part, with the odd question asked now and again. Nakina was not certain how to respond to the whole affair, and Michael seemed content to observe her. Near the end, the room was beginning to feel hot, and she was slightly light-headed, but at least her apprehension had faded. There was something she needed to ask him, but what was it? Something the nurse had said...

"Michael?" she queried as he began to gather the dishes, and he murmured his acknowledgement. "What is a whore?"

"Huh?" it was a stupid response and sounded dumb, even to own ears, but his brain had stopped working for a moment. She repeated the question, her tone serious. Perhaps a little too serious. It could be that she really didn't know – vulgarities was not one of the things he had taught her, and for now he was having trouble not placing the two of them in the same sentence without excitement – the tragedy of the male libido, even towards the woman he loves and respects.

"Well..." he began, and then proceeded to give a polite definition of the word. He nodded in pride at his quick thinking, but it back-fired on him almost immediately.

"So, that would mean that I really am your whore," she said softly. Why, thought Michael, for he could not tell whether he should be excited or ashamed, and his definition had been so balanced that to deny it now would make him look like a fool. Well it is technically correct, he thought vehemently.

"But only in the privacy of the bedroom," he quickly amended, as a wild vision of Nakina sharing this to all and sundry assailed him. He looked at the table, and saw that the two bottles of wine he had brought were empty. It was little wonder the conversation had taken such a provocative turn.

"Let me help you with that," she all but whispered. Michael felt relieved and disappointed when she began to lift the remainders of the dinner from the table. This is not the time, he told himself sternly, but it was becoming impossible to ignore the charms of Nakina Owusu.

By the time she had cleared the table and had finished washing the dishes, Michael came into the kitchen, switching off the lights as he did so, leaving only the dim light of the moon and the soft yellow light that came through the doorway for them to see by. He pushed up against her in the semi-darkness, pinning her waist against the sink. She must have felt the same as he did, for she made no protests, nor asked any questions of him. Instead, she reached behind to pluck his shirt from his jeans whilst he groped her body.

When he was shirtless, she turned around to run her hands along his face and chest. "You are so strong and handsome Michael, I should not be involved with a man like you." she murmured, inebriation inducing lust and self-pity in turns..

"Do not be foolish," he chastised her softly. "There is no woman I want more in this world than you."

As was her wont in the privacy of the home, Nakina wore a traditional dress from her homeland of thin fabric, and her nipples strained visibly beneath. With a rough hand, he reached within and freed one of her breasts. Already a large woman, her breasts now seemed heavier, with a faint trace of veins beneath the stretched skin. He gave the sensitive nipple a cursory lick and she whimpered, for her bosom had become quite tender, and even the light fingers he ran over the surrounding skin caused her to shudder.

Lifting the folds of her dress, he reached beneath, between her legs to touch her through her undergarments. It was already slick with her juices – evidence that she had been aroused for some time now. Michael's erection strained as though it would burst through to reach her. He hooked the material of her garments aside and pushed his fingers within. Her body writhed with sudden orgasm that his flickering tongue had built and his fingers released.

She leaned against him heavily, her legs trembling. They stumbled to the kitchen table, where he lay her down upon it and began to undress himself whilst Nakina watched him. Unclothed, he still had the firm figure he had when they had first met him, but he had trimmed extremely since and his erection now seemed larger than ever. Since he had been away, Nakina had not paid too much attention to herself, and when Michael lifted her dress and pulled off her panties, her bush was thick and dishevelled. The lips surrounding her cleft was swollen, and with her naked body in view, she was a picture of the elemental woman.

Michael set his fingers back into her sex and placed his tongue upon her swollen nub. She watched him over the gentle bulge of her stomach, a pale oval between her dark legs, sighing gently, moaning as he touched her deeply. His free fingers played through the crisp kinks of her pubic hair, whilst she ran both her hands through the soft silk on his head, and she cursed him softly in her native tongue as he ate her alive. Then he began to use his tongue to penetrate her whilst he stroked the heavy mound of her stomach and Nakina released his hair to grip the edges of the table, as a series of spasms took her, and she tried, vainly, to stifle the sounds of her pleasure until it subsided.

Without his consent, she slid off the table and took him by the hand to the leather couch in their living room. The room was quiet, except for the buzz of the air-conditioner that worked against the humid heat of the night. There she saw that he had painstakingly lighted dozens of small candles about the room, which was the source of the faint illumination.

Provided with a clue to the puzzle, she settled him down, and he felt the chill of the soft brown leather couch against his sweating back and shivered. She straddled his chest and Michael kissed her belly as his hand clutched at her plump backside, teasing her occasionally. When she was ready, she clutched his shaft and guided herself upon it. The two months had seemed a long, lonely eternity and she gave out a cry as she was stretched, shivering as she heard his deep groan. Leaning forward slightly, her hanging breasts brushed along his chest, and her round stomach pressed lightly against his. His expression left no doubt that he was in love.

"Michael, why me?" she asked that question, so incomprehensible to men. "You could have chosen a woman more suited to you."

"You mean a white woman?" he said roughly, almost harshly. "It is true that I could avoid a lot of problems by doing so, but if it comes that easily, it probably isn't even worth the effort. You, on the other hand, are worth the effort."

He began to thrust heavily into her. "You may be an African woman, but what of it? Isn't your body reacting as it would any other man?"

"But never like this!" she confessed with a gasp. Michael gave an embarrassed grunt, but took a firm hold of her hips and began to thrust harder, rocking her gently with his efforts.

"Then it just goes to show that your body is more honest than you are," he informed her with a husky growl. "Here is the proof. Your body was quite willing wasn't it? Now your carrying our baby."

Dazed as she was, she understood that they were no longer having sex for pleasure, but were coupling to confirm their commitment to one another. She clutched his head between the globes of her breasts, and she looked towards the ceiling, but her eyes were blind as she concentrated on the heavy wet thrusts between her legs.

Michael watched her for some moments, before he ran light fingers across her stomach. Clothed, her bulge would not be noticeable, but it wouldn't be long before it showed. He had always expected this to happen, but had always decided he would convince her to get an abortion when it happened. Only, now that the moment was upon him, he did not want that to happen. He apologised mentally to her for having thought of it.

It had always seemed to him that Nakina was one of the most beautiful women in the world and she would never get better. Yet pregnancy had transformed her and she was now aglow with the proof of womanhood, which in turn tapped into his masculine instincts.

"I want you to always be with me Nakina Owusu," he groaned beneath her.

"I won't leave you Michael," she promised urgently, "ever."

To make her point, she leaned forward against him, pressing her swollen stomach against the flat of his, and imparted her obligation: "As your wife, I have a duty to you and our child. All of them."

"All of them?" he queried with a raised eyebrow.

"The one now, and the ones that will come later." In the African countryside, a woman's desirability was determined by her fertility, a thought that carried unconsciously through her mind now. Though they were both young, the few years she had on him made her worry that her biological clock would run out before he was ready for it – she had to use the time available to her to make use of her lover's extra virility. She kissed him deeply, as if seeking penetration by other means.

As they made love, neither of them worried about the future, other than the one they were working to create. Michael doubted that his father would accept their union, let alone that he had place his seed inside an African womb, but their mutual feelings toward one another was all the legitimacy he needed to justify his actions. If need be, he could take his black lover, and soon-to-be-wife, away and live abroad with her. Spending the rest of his life in her loving embrace was quite appealing.

Whilst Michael made his plans for their future, Nakina made her own. Again, her thoughts were turned towards keeping herself attractive for her lover. Even if she was not be entirely successful, she would strive to keep herself attractive for him, so that it was always her bed that he came to. She was certain that he would love her no matter what, that he would make love to her through long sweaty nights and place in her loins the fruit of his desire.

Looking down, she saw that he was still stroking her belly. She placed a slender dark hand atop of his and suddenly felt a small jerk within her. Foreign white seeds had been planted in the black earth of her womb, had taken root, and was growing with surprising vigour. She jerked her groin against him. There was no mistake; he had put his child inside her.

"Michael, I need you now," she growled, sweat stinging her eyes. "I want it. All of it – your essence, your touch, your love, you child!"

He groaned sympathetically with her, his eyes tightly shut. His body had been as tense as hers for sometime now – the prolonged pleasure was now turning into a burning frustration, wearing out their bodies, threatening them with a release as catastrophic as an eruption. Though their bodies were cool from sweat, fiercely chilled by the air-conditioning, they both felt unbearably hot within.

Like a pebble that doesn't mean to set off the avalanche, Michael set his lips to suckle her breasts and Nakina felt a throbbing clench deep within her, realising with wonder that it was her womb. Only, it didn't stop there, and the rippling avalanche tore downward fiercely, overwhelming anything that lay in its path. That avalanche, in turn, set off the volcano, which erupted with a heavy spurt of searing white lava.

I love you.

Nakina, who had cried out in climax, dug her nails into his back and her teeth into his shoulder as she felt the powerful geyser splash against her cervix, and her body shuddered over and over. Michael did not feel those raking nails, lost in his own world of excruciating pleasure, but seized her with a force that might have made her wince at another time.

I love you.

Finally he settled back on the couch, flinching from the abrasions on his back, the scars of which he would bear to his last days. Sliding off of him, the lips of her vagina remained parted from having been stretched apart for so long. Beside him she settled, a heavy leg across him, holding him in place. They kissed deeply, their tongue and jaws working slowly against each other until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

****************

The months went by slowly, almost lazily, and Debra could still remember those gentle days. Time had been spent to prepare their life for the new arrival, and despite the pregnancy, their sexuality had not diminished, only adjusted. Then their days of bliss finally came to an end.

Both Michael and she had been naked and asleep when the door to their apartment was smashed by masked men. Michael had awoken instantly and had sprung from bed only a moment later, but she had been confused with fright and shock. She could not remember clearly how many there had been, but Michael held out with violence surprising for such a gentle person, before one of them clubbed him from behind. Flinching, she expected brutal rape and death, but instead a thin piece of cloth was pressed upon her face. That was all.

When she finally awoke, a whole month had passed and she was again in hospital. Debra could still remember how she had cried herself hoarse when she found that her baby was gone, taken from her whilst she lay unconscious. Nor did she eat or drink, until doctors forced her onto the drip. Despite the horrifying situation, she was young and clung to life, finally finding the strength rebuild her shattered dreams. She could not bear to remain as Nakina Owusu and had married, changing her name thereafter.

Of Michael, she would not see him for another eight years. She had moved on since then, and, it seemed, so had he. Though she knew her own suffering had been great, she could only now wonder as to what he had been through, for he seemed a much older man and his hair was sprinkled with grey. He was now married to a pretty Japanese woman and had a young boy at his side.

Though her first thought was to keep him away, they had once shared such a deep and soulful union that she still wanted to see him, even if it would bring painful memories – in her mind at least, he was still her first husband. In private, he then apologised deeply to her, even though the fault had not been his, and explained to her things, which, for the most part, she had already began to piece together.

Michael had made a mistake in not returning home immediately after his two month trip. His father, Albrecht Ambrose, had then searched for the whereabouts of his errant son and inadvertently stumbled upon the love affair. The months that had passed, he spent in investigation, before deciding he would not allow the conclusion of that relationship, let alone Michael's intended marriage plans.

Though she wanted to ask about their child, it proved far too painful, and she suspected Michael would have already done everything he could to find out where he or she might be. Since he said nothing, even seemed to avoid the subject... Despite herself, she had cried. When her tears had dried, he continued: Albrecht had taken him and sent him from the country the very next day, sending him as far as he could. Afterwards he had met his wife of present, after his father had pointedly told him that failure to move on with his life might result in the deterioration of her health.

Debra sighed heavily and turned off the television, heading for her room. She did not turn on the lights, for Denis was already asleep, and now she slipped beneath the covers beside him. She considered that she had been fortunate to have found him, so shortly afterwards. Though he did not inspire the same fire, he was nothing short of a wonderful husband that left his family wanting for nothing. In that context, she apologised to him silently, for shortly after their reunion she had resumed a lengthy affair with Michael, for whom she still smouldered for.

The days that followed had been mellow and golden. Then, a few years after it had begun, Michael was gone from her life again, this time forever. A car crash had killed both him and his wife; their boy survived from the efforts of his mother, who shielded him from injury with her body. Debra had wanted to comfort the him, but she had no access and soon she would have children of her own to worry about.

Lying in bed, she wondered what her daughter would be doing now. Undoubtedly she would be out with her friends at this point to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Would David be there as well? It might have been as well to tell Vanessa to be cautious in her dealings with him, but it might just make her more curious. Sometimes Debra felt that the story between Michael and her was trying to play itself out through their children.




Untamed Passion



With a sigh, she turned on her side and snuggled against Denis. She would have to trust that Vanessa would make the right decision with regards to David Ambrose.

****************

Many thanks for reading this story. Hopefully it made for an exciting, or at least provocative, read. Keep the feedback rolling, and thanks for all your support!

Please also take a moment to consider the plight of a refugee. Being a refugee is quite painful for those who have been forced to leave their homes, whatever the situation. Though some try to gain illegal entry into a country for personal gain, many simply want to escape painful and/or dire circumstances. Though it is not always possible to give them aid or shelter, remember that even something as small as a kind word means a lot to such people. Thanks for your time!