19 comments/ 27131 views/ 29 favorites Distant Shores By: smoldering_passion Hello everyone, thanks for looking over my first story. For those of you who are looking for a quick read, this is probably not one for you, since it is lengthy and little slow to start, but there are always lot's of other talented authors on Literotica that can help out! This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between characters herein to people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. The backdrop of the world is based on an African-esque setting that I made up for an RPG game I run. Whilst this work contains some elements of African tribal life, I do not presume to authenticate its accuracy – it was made simply to present an interesting and exotic backdrop for the story. No offence was meant. The story is both fantasy and interracial, based around a High Elf who becomes stranded within the setting, and becomes involved with a native tribeswoman. For those of you who like it or want it improved, 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! 1. A Stranger in the Mist In the dim grey light of the early dawn, before the sunrise, two figures slid swiftly through morning mist that shrouded the dense vegetation of the surrounding jungle. Holding hands, they guided each other over the broken logs and through the entangling undergrowth, giggling girlishly as they went along. Looking about, they found the clearing that they were looking for and raced towards it. The first to break through the foliage squealed triumphantly, the beads in her hair, around her neck, and on her arms and ankles, clicking softly together as she came to a stop. Other than her beads, a short skirt of goatskin was her only other article of clothing. Her skin was dark, like the fertile earth beneath her bare feet. She breathed in deeply, her proud full breasts swelling. Moments later her friend, clad as scantily as she, burst through. There was a tribal similarity between them, though they were not related. Though of similar age and slightly taller, the newcomer was not as robust as her friend, though the locks of her hair were longer. "That was not fair Thema!" she squealed, speaking in their guttural native tongue, smoothed with feminine inflection. "We do this all the time!" retorted Thema with a jubilant laugh, tossing her matted locks over her bare shoulder. "You should know better! Come, we are almost at the bay!" They both walked the rest of the way, chatting about their lives, and their dreams for the future. Mostly, they talked about the prince of another tribe, who had asked Thema's father for her hand in marriage, as show of friendship and alliance between the two villages. Then their conversation was abruptly cut short. Even before they could see the calm waters of the lagoon, Thema knew that something was wrong. There was a scent in the air, which she knew to be blood and smoke. Even Akua knew it, for their peaceful village had seen many raids by rival tribes recently. Their fast pace slowed to a furtive crawl, as they sought out the source. Akua was the first to see, and she let out a low cry as she clutched at her friend's arm. Thema saw it too – the dark low silhouette of a corsair's galley in the misty waters of the bay. The tribes who lay along the great ocean made a living by raiding along the coastline, and their warriors were some of the most brutal and ferocious in the region. As they got closer, they could see that there were many more of them, but Thema's fear abated and her excitement rose. The source of the smoke was from the pirate's own galley which had burned to the waterline. As they crept into the bay, the destruction of the pirate's fleet was breathtaking to behold. Not a single ship had survived, nor would they ever be seaworthy again. But the destruction of the pirates had not stopped with their fleet alone – their bodies lay all over the shore of the bay, whilst others floated lifelessly in the blue waters, now turned red. As they passed one of the bodies, Akua scorned it with her foot, for in her younger years her family had not been the only thing that she had lost to these monsters. Thema felt sympathy for her friend, for she knew the same pain. No man within the tribe wanted a wife who was not a virgin. It was because of these circumstances that the two of them had bonded together so closely, but where Thema thought of life, Akua thought only of revenge. Thema's sorrow for her friend was momentarily forgotten as she spotted something further up the shoreline. Calling Akua to her, both girls quickly went to investigate, but they quickly came to a halt. Even though the mist obscured it, the vessel that had been beached was clearly not the galley of a corsair, nor was it that of any ship the native people of this continent had ever seen. With some trepidation, Thema and Akua approached. What lay before them was a ship to dwarf all their previous ideas of ships. It was at least twice as high as any galley, and three times longer. Looking along the side, they could see no oars, but jutting out from the middle of the ship were three enormous sheets of cloth that billowed and snapped in the morning breeze. With the rise of the morning sun, the mist faded and vanished, leaving the vessel completely exposed to them. It was of a sleek and elegant design, and, to Thema's mind, was made from ivory, and bordered with gold, the glint of which she had seen through the mist. Now that the mist had lifted, they could see that the tribal corsairs were not the only ones to have been slain. There were others to be seen; strangers who wore glittering robes of metal decorated with gold and precious stones, and they were covered so completely that their features could not be seen. Like the corsairs, they carried shields, but they were not made of wicker. Still gripped in their hands, were their weapons – slender rods of metal. They had all been run through with spears, save one, who was bloodied and slumped against the rocks, were the last stand had been made, to judge from the pile of corsairs that lay in a semi-circle about him. Thema, followed by Akua, approached this solitary figure slowly. When he did not move, Thema knelt next to him. He was dressed like the others with no particular distinction, save the long narrow blue cloth that he gripped in his left hand. His features were obscured by the thing on his head, so she reached out to remove it, pulling at it harder when it did not move. The helmet slipped so suddenly that she was left sprawled on the sand in an indecent manner. She laughed nervously, only to see Akua was not looking at her. It was a man, at least that much Thema was certain, but his skin was ivory and his hair as black as the night sky. Nor was his hair kinky, like her own or that of her tribesmen, but long, straight and flowing, like some dark tranquil river. His features also differed, for they were not wide and bold, but rather, slender and angular. His ears were a curiosity too, for they were far longer, tapering to points at the end. Thema reached out to touch his face, though Akua squeaked in protest. The flesh was still warm and vital; he was still alive. "Akua!" she whispered, for suddenly her strength seemed gone, "Quickly, run to the camp and find help!" "But..." started Akua. "Now!" **** After the discussions and arguments had been made, the stranger was lifted from the beach, and brought back to their camp, where they had packed their belongings and in haste began the four day journey back to their village. The stranger did not stir even once throughout the entire journey. When they had figured how to undress him of his strange garments, the shaman had tended to his wounds and fed him soft foods. Thema had made it a point to stay as close as possible to what she thought was her charge. But she was not the only one with an interest in the stranger. Whilst the council elders and tribesmen had gathered around, many of the women in the village crowded at the door, eager to catch a glimpse of the 'strange ivory man with funny long ears and flowing night-water hair'. When the stranger was undressed, many necks were stretched, and some even slipped inside – at least until they were chased out squealing. She caught her glimpse; the hard athletic body of a runner, or a young warrior – the shaman's body obscured what lay lower. When the excitement finally died down, and the dusk became night, Thema went down to a secluded nearby stream over the hills to wash away the dust of travel from her body. Removing the beads and her skirt, she slipped into the shallow stream, its cold embrace sending shivers through her body. Standing in the middle of the stream, with the swift waters lapping at the mound of her sex, she looked to the sky, trying to read the future as foretold in the stars, like the wise men sometimes did. Her attempt was miserable, for she knew not where even to begin and her mind began to wander. The night sky was as dark and flawless as the stranger's hair. They described his hair as water and so she dipped her fingers into the stream. Since she knew naught of silk, this was closest approximation she could make. She became aware of strange palpations in her stomach, so she took a deep breath and submerged herself beneath the waters, scrubbing her skin with sand from the bottom. When she emerged again, the satiny curves of her dripping body were cast into bold relief by the light of the full moon, transforming her into an ebony goddess, wild and untamed. She shook her head, sending her locks whipping and water flying. Her skin still tingling from the scrubbing, she sat in a pool in the hollow of a circle of rocks. The water was cold, making her dark wide nipples harden. Absentmindedly she reached up to tease one with the tip of her nail, whilst looking at her surroundings. If he 0was there, in the light of the full moon, he would stand out in startling relief against everything else. She sighed deeply as she began to roll the stiff nipple between her fingers. Thema made a half-hearted attempt to look around – she was submerged to her shoulders – anyone would think she was merely sitting and relaxing. Slowly, she allowed her legs to part, the cold water tickling her as it rushed in-between them, but her mind was only partly there as questions run through her mind: Where had he come from? What strange lands bred men like him? Why had he come here? Would he stay with them? She had no answers for any of them; only a rising need that had to be satisfied. Reaching down into the bush between her thighs, she parted the lips to her secret place. Her first touch brought about an involuntary sob from her lips. Not since before the first raid on her village some years ago had she done this. Why now? The thought of his hard, pale body pressed against her, and his strong hands running over her body, intruded on her thoughts. An aching spasm brought her out of the water, arching her back, leaning against the smooth rocks behind. Her legs clamped, catching her hand in-between them. With her other hand she caressed the dark globes of her breasts, finding strangely heavy and swollen. Her face was flushed and hot. She splashed back into the cooling waters, splashing her face with water. The moon was rising, and it was time she got back. Gathering her belongings, Thema walked back to the outskirts of her village where the small hut she shared with Akua was located. It was another mark of her pariah status. Akua was already within, asleep and breathing softly. Thema affixed the goatskin flap against the night wind and lay down on her mat, thinking of what had just transpired. **** 2. Elrath Awakens Elrath Vethriel, was a champion for his people, and had spent nearly his whole adult life on the seas defending them from the barbarians of the snowy northern realms, and the pirates of the temperate middle lands. In-between years, he would return home, at the heart of the Elven Realm, back to his childhood sweetheart and their son, where life seemed worthwhile. Inevitably he would return to the seas, the memory of burning cities spurring him to protect. But this time, a whim of nature had set a ferocious storm upon his ship, and it was all they could do to keep it afloat. For days they struggled against it, and then they reached the eye. There was no way to tell which direction they were headed, the sky was laden with dark angry clouds. Then the struggle for survival began anew. How far they had drifted from their lands, they knew not. Finally the storm abated and passed them by. The navigator was worried, for from the stars he knew that they had never been this far east or this far south before. They looked over their rations, and the situation was grim. Nor did they know in which direction land was to be found. But finally they did see land, and raced towards it, thanking the fates; though, perhaps, too early. The galleys came upon them in the early light of dawn, and they had been forced into a secluded lagoon. Once within, the wizards heaped fire upon their enemies, but they were far too many, and once sorcery was exhausted, the swords began to sing. Their adversaries were human, though they had thought otherwise at first – big men, with wiry hair and ebony skin. They had spears for weapons and wore necklaces of shark's teeth about their necks. Though they were crude, they were strong and fast, for they were raiders first and foremost. Only the superior weapons and armour of the elves had given them any chance at all. At last he had found himself with his back against the rocks, alone and at bay. But Elrath was the veteran of a hundred battles by sea and by land, and no man in the world was more deeply versed in the lore of swordcraft than he. When it was all done, he slumped against the rocks in exhaustion and despair, before weariness and loss of blood called him into darkness. When Elrath awoke, he found himself looking at the wooden domed roof of a small hut. He lay upon a straw mat on the dry earth with crude bandages wrapped around his arms and chest. Instantly and instinctively he groped for his sword, alarmed when he couldn't find it. Sitting up, he saw all his gear in pile at the base of his mat. His hands were unbound and the door to his quarters was nothing more than flap of goatskin. He was, at least, not a prisoner. Light suddenly flooded the room, blinding him, as the goatskin was drawn aside. This person froze at the sight of him up. To his dazzled eyes, the figure was that of a human, and as his eyes cleared he saw that it was a woman; undoubtedly native to this region. Her skin was of the richest dark complexion he had ever seen on any person; her forehead was high and splendid, her eyes dark with mystery and her lips full and dark – making the pink tongue between her parted lips even more vivid. Elrath's eyes suddenly widened and his face flushed, red with embarrassment when he realised that a loincloth was her only article of clothing – the clicking beads only seemed to accentuate her nudity. He became aware that a rough-spun blanket was the only thing covering him. Before he could react, she was gone, though not from embarrassment. The last sight he had of her was of her firm round buttocks peeking out from beneath her skirt. He reached out for his armour, but his chest hurt, and he knew that he would not don it for quite some time. Nevertheless he reached out to take the long blue scarf that was his companion's last gift to him, and wrapped it around his arm, reluctant to part with it for even a moment. His other garments were intact, if somewhat stained and bloodied, and he was already pulling on his tunic when they found him. **** The early days within the tribe were not easy for him. The brutal sun for one thing. Nor could they speak to him, for his language was utterly different and alien – soft and smooth to their ears – and many marvelled when first heard him speak. Likewise, Elrath found theirs to be the opposite – full of zest and passion – but he knew that he was more likely to learn theirs than they were to learn his, so he applied himself earnestly to the task. The village itself was little more than a nomadic encampment which had settled for longer than it was due. They were primitive, and wouldn't even approach the level of the northerners, who worked iron, whereas they worked in flint and bone. But they were survivors and their capacity for decadence and deception were non-existent, which Elrath noted with hidden approval. Overall, they were a happier and livelier people than the humans of the north, who brooded and plotted in the cold. Yet Elrath felt sorry for them, for when the women bent over to do their chores, everything was visible, and his face was almost constantly crimson – to the point where even the local shaman accompanied him frequently to make sure he was fine, dabbing at him with foul unguents. But there were greater problems at hand. These people were hunters and gatherers, not warriors, and their braves suffered high attrition during tribal feuds. Women were far more numerous, since only the men fought, most of those men who remained where either old, or were only just coming of age. He felt sorry for them; it would only take two, maybe three, more raids and they would be gone. Within the week, he was capable of basic, if not altogether accurate, communication, though not speech. At last he extracted the location of where they had found him and decided he would set out this very evening, for there was supposed to be a festivity of sorts, providing an ideal opportunity to slip out without commotion. What could go wrong? Elrath frowned slightly as he caught a shadow at the edge of his sight, but did not bother look. A certain girl of the tribe, almost certainly the daughter of the village headsman, was always trailing him. Though not the only one, she was the most persistent. He was certain they thought him some exotic animal of sorts; an object of curiosity, the attraction of which he was certain would wear off in time. **** 3. Celebration of Life As the evening came on, Thema came up from her stream. She had not finished all that she had wished to, but the sight of the rising bonfire at the centre of the village had told her preparations for the coming night was already underway. Akua and Thema had not been invited, for the ceremony was only for those of marriageable status. But he would be there – the elders were intent on showing him their culture and the pride of their hunters and warriors. Akua had already left, during the early hours of the morning and would not return for some weeks. She had headed towards the mountains where the witch whom everyone feared lived in secluded mystery. Thema often worried for her friend, but Akua protested, claiming she was an apprentice and now learning of medicines. Thema shook those thoughts from her mind, for there were other things she now wanted. Her skin was still lustrous from the sands of the stream, and she began to put aside her beads, though not those from her hair. Instead she now wore soft bracelets of pure gold on her arms and ankles, and spent time to encase her throat with neck rings of the same, and set two large hoops of gold in her earlobes. She rubbed oil into her skin, but not the red pigments that were the entitlement of marriageable women. She set a small fire burning, using slow burning wood and tidied her hut. With Akua gone, she gathered her friend's rugs and furs, as well as her own and set them into a comfortable pile in the corner. Gathering her skirt, she paused for a moment before tossing it aside. Instead, she picked up her coarse brown blanket and wrapped it about her body like a cloak. Thema went out to face the night, her heart beating and full of apprehension. Distant Shores As the ceremony got underway, she stayed on the edges, not wanting to garner attention – she would be unwelcome, maybe chased off, were others to think she was trying to participate. Her brother came to give her a drink he had managed to smuggle out, but then he to left to join the revelries with a huge grin on his face. Thema watched him go before looking back at the assembling crowd. The one she sought wasn't altogether hard to find. In comparison to the dusky brown bodies she was accustomed to, Erak, as she could only pronounce his name, was astoundingly pale in comparison. He sat on the outskirts of the semi-circle of elders. It was clear that he was uncomfortable as he looked over the growing number of women that were gathering for the first dance. Thema slipped back into the shadows. **** Though Elrath had been expecting the festival, this type had been the furthest from his thoughts. Some of the elders had been insistent that he wear their local garb, so now he sat clad in nothing but a loincloth. They had offered to paint white strips across his cheeks, but the painter had lowered the paint bowl in embarrassment. Elrath had not blamed her. Instead he wore a light bracelet of beads on his right hand; the scarf always on the other. They gave him a cup, which he tasted, finding it to be an alcoholic beverage, if somewhat bland and mild. He drained it with one gulp and set it down; he noticed some of the councilmen looking in his direction and nodding to one another with approval. The drums began to beat their rhythmic pulse into the dark night, and with whoops and howls, the women began to file before the great raging bonfire. Somewhere, a group of men began to chant, and occasionally the dancers whooped to some predetermined note in the music. The chant and beat were slow to start with, and the dancers moved accordingly, circling around the fire, their hips rolling like that of no woman Elrath had ever seen in the years of his life. He had already concluded that the ritual was meant to show the sensuality and the desirability of the women as a mate to potential partners. Before the great bonfire the women where transformed into red-lined silhouettes of dark mystery. Their languid movement was something the elf was more used to and Elrath became entranced as he watched. He briefly looked over the dancers, not finding the headman's daughter. He absently wondered why she would not be present – she was beautiful over the others and he would have liked to see her dance. That last thought startled him. Elven culture almost implied that humans were a lesser breed of elf, and some where extreme enough to imply that mating with humans was no better than coupling with a beast. Though not as extreme, these thoughts were always ingrained in the back of his mind when he dealt with humankind. Nevertheless, for all of an elf's calm and stately aloofness, they are creatures of emotion; any scene of intensity, no matter how contrary to their teachings or culture, would elicit a response from them. And there was no lack of intensity in the scene unfolding before Elrath; the soft tinkling of gold bracelets, the rolling black buttocks peeking from beneath their skirts, the fluid motions of their dark brown breasts swaying – all hinting at unspoken desire and boundless pleasures of the flesh. Elrath blinked. He was swaying and immediately realised the source of the motion and the pathways his mind was taking. The liquor he had quaffed earlier was now clouding his mind – despite its bland taste, it packed a potent kick. It was only now that he realised that the men at the gathering had lost themselves and were howling in approval, beating down on their shields. Quickly he focused his mind, internalising himself as only an elf could. His giddiness began to subside, as did the aching need in his body, and would remain subdued so long as his concentration held. The elders and the braves were thoroughly distracted, for the tempo of the drums had reached a pitch and the chanters were ecstatic. The dancers had reached fever-pitch and now concentrated only on their hips, shaking them with breathtaking speed. Elrath doubted that any women of any other race, elf or human, could have done it. His concentration began to slip and he pulled his eyes away with difficulty. It was time to leave. As he prepared to slip away, a soft hand was suddenly on his arm. His heart raced when he realised it was her. Thema as he recalled. A brown cloak was wrapped about her, as though she was ready for travel. Had she figured out his plan? For a moment, considered, then decided a guide might be advisable, and if she was prepared to see him off voluntarily, all the better. **** 4. Elrath and Thema Thema had waited until the ritual had reached a high point. The hunger within her, that had started at the stream and remained unfulfilled, was now maddening. There could be no more waiting. Quietly she glided from the shadow of a nearby tree and went to his side. He did not notice her, and Thema wondered breathlessly whether dancers had enthralled him and his desire for their dark writhing forms was at its peak. She laid a trembling hand on his arm and marvelled at its soft texture. Yet beneath his skin, the muscles were hard and unyielding, and not at all soft. Thema repressed a shudder as she chanced to think as to how they might crush her in their firm embrace. She experienced a pang of disappointment when he turned about, his face calm and serene. Yet her breathing came in small breathless gasps, for she had never seen eyes that were green and flecked with gold. Reaching down, she held his hand and gave a gentle pull. He looked back one last time at the crowd, and then got up. She guided him swiftly to outskirts of the village, looking back to ensure he was well. Evidently he mistook that glance and looked back, probably thinking they were not to be followed. Thema looked down at the hand that enclosed hers; a hand she knew could crush her own; strong hands belonging to a warrior. Along that walk, she saw the acute differences between them – the lengthened ears, the green eyes and the flowing black hair. In the harsh light of the moon, his pale skin seemed even whiter, and looking at her hand in his, the contrast vivid. If they mated and there were children between them, how would they... She suppressed a sharp yelp, as she stubbed her foot against a rock, but to her horror she began to pitch forward, overbalanced. His hand tightened instantly, and had she held on to a tree, its immovability would have been the same. She smiled sheepishly, her pounding heart suffocating her. **** Looking at her apologetic smile, her teeth were brilliantly white, not like the faintly yellowed teeth of northerners. Elrath smiled back. She quickly turned away and resumed her guidance. They were going in the wrong direction to be heading towards the bay. Perhaps she was heading for supplies, or maybe avoiding sentries. He looked around, but was certain there was no one about. Instead he saw a lighted hut up ahead – her home? Why so far from the village? Was she not the headman's daughter? Pulling aside the door flap, she offered him entrance. Her breasts brushed heavily against him as he entered; his concentration broke and he was dazed as the full effects of subdued intoxication and lust, combined with the heat inside the hut, rose back up to choke him. He was barely aware that she set him to lounge upon a heavy pile of soft furs. Almost like an automaton, he did as she guided him to. Then she left to go outside, leaving him a moment to gather his thoughts. Elrath was almost startled to see that he was seated upon the pile. A vague premonition played over him, and, despite himself, his manhood stirred in anticipation. He was only grateful that it was not altogether noticeable, and could be passed for a crumple on his loincloth. **** Standing in the cold night air, Thema was trying to gather her courage. She had gently brushed her breasts against him, hoping to excite his interest, but the sudden naked desire in his eyes was more than she had expected. She settled him in place and quickly stepped outside, her heart racing wildly. Leaning against the side of the hut, she tried to steady herself. She turned her head as though she would look through the walls to see him. A moment in her life she had though would never come was here and she could not lose it now. He was not the man she had even dreamed of having, but she came to a realisation that now, instead, she had a man she wanted with an intensity she hadn't thought possible. Superstitiously, she looked at the stars, thinking that the gods must have kept her for this day. Thema swept back the skin flap, entered, and secured it behind her. He shifted somewhat when she closed the opening. His face was calm again and it irritated her. She knew he wanted her – she had seen it plainly on his face a moment ago. She wanted to see it again, the proof that she was really a woman. She didn't think she could bear the thought of him not wanting her. She had considered that he might not even be human; his eyes, those ears, the paleness of his skin that defied the elements and the punishing sun... Those did not matter. In her eyes, he was a man that desired her as a woman, and that was all she had ever asked that he would be. The differences between them only served to excite her and offer her the promise of lover she would not tire of. She shivered in anticipation. She turned her back to him and slowly let loose the blanket about her, displaying the glory of her naked body to him. She had sweated under the blanket and her body was oiled – the low light of the fire highlighted her every curve and contour in lustful detail. The gold circlets on her body, stunning against the dark ebony of her body, jingled softly as they clashed together. Elrath seemed startled, but she did not miss the fire in the back of his eyes. She had her own version of the marriage dance that she would use for him. Her back still to him, she cupped her breasts and drew hands down over chest, down the soft curve of her stomach, across her thighs, bending over slightly as she reached down for her knees, offering him a tempting view. She waited and heard his breathing deepen. Thema turned about with calculated slowness, presenting him with a view of the dark twin orbs of her breasts, perfect in their contours and heavy in their femininity. Her nipples were already stiff from her arousal. She tweaked them between her fingers to emphasise them, and a shudder went through her body. She began to dance for him, not a dance of enticement, but a dance of mating filled with all the powerful eroticism born of naked desire. His arousal was obvious and undeniable, the flimsy material of his loincloth no longer able to conceal it. She felt wicked pride that she could interest a man of another race, who should rightfully not desire another outside his own kind. She wondered with shameful desire what it was that might now be causing him such excitement. Was it the seductive rolling undulation of her abundant backside? Perhaps the proud swell of her heavy breasts? Maybe it was the dark triangular bush at the base of her thighs proving her ascent to womanhood? Could it have simply been the darkness of her skin when contrasted against his own? Thema could have no idea that they had all contributed. The fire was burning low when she finally completed her dance of want. Elrath was covered with a faint sheen of sweat and was breathing through his mouth. Thema was no better, if not more so. She approached him with swaying hips, her eyes more like those of a hungry she-panther. She knelt at his feet and began to crawl towards him until her quivering lips were only inches from his, and she could feel the heat of his breath. She half-closed her eyes and went forward tentatively. And he met with her. They kissed slowly at first, feeling the texture of each others lips, then finally opening their mouths and allowing their tongues to express their hunger. Sexual frustration and lowered inhibitions were taking their toll on Elrath and he reached up for her and brought her down to his side, before rolling onto her, drinking the nectar of her full lips once again. One hand ran down his back, gently scratching him with her nails, whilst the other stroked and twirled his silky hair which she found so fascinating. Both of them were sweating heavily, and the oil on Thema's body caused them to glide over one another. Never in his life had Elrath sweated so profusely, even in the heat of battle. His erection grew hard until prodded proudly against her, with only the loincloth to prevent contact. They were now both of one mind, and needed only to be of one body. The both reached for the intruding cloth and pulled it from around him, tossing it way like an unwanted rag. Thema felt his hardness press against her thigh, firm and soft at the same time. She had a brief image of that raider thrusting his monstrous veined member at her, but it was unrelated and unimportant and she expunged the thought from her mind effortlessly. She looked down on his body lying between her legs. He showered her face and neck with kisses until she was panting from his efforts. All the while Elrath attempted to claim her. He had never felt so clumsy in his entire life, thrusting recklessly, the urgency of his need making him careless. It was her fault for doing this to him. He renewed his efforts. Then he found the entrance to her, pausing on the threshold. Her hands which were caressing his back and the soft moans from her mouth were stilled. They were pressed too closely together to see the act of penetration, but the image of him plunging his pale shaft into her dark cave suddenly took him. Nor was he alone in that thought. Elrath jerked as Thema thrust her hips to meet him, the slick warmth of her body resisting his intruding length, yet offering no real resistance at all. They were one. For a few breathless moments, that seemed so much longer, they remained motionless against each other, like two intertwined statues of ebony and ivory melded together. Her nails dug into his shoulders, as did her teeth, but with his manhood in her vise-like grip, Elrath barely noticed. The movement of her hips beneath him prompted Elrath to move again, though he did so mechanically at first. The lust that had clouded his mind had subsided for the moment, leaving him with the realisation that he was coupling with a human; one of dark skin and thus unlike him or his kind in everyway. Having invited the coupling, Thema was less preoccupied with such thoughts, and they were only a small part of them, serving only to fuel her excitement, not guilt. Meanwhile, Elrath had lifted himself with his arms, looking down upon that soft dark body that had driven him to this moment. Thema looked down between them and Elrath followed her gaze. They watched him thrust into her. Elrath could not doubt the situation much longer. She stroked her hands over his shoulder, but Elrath took her hand away, pinning it above her head. Despite his true intentions of stopping her, the act of force excited Thema even more and she offered her other arm for him to hold down. Stretched out as she was beneath him, her legs spread, dark body glistening, the maddening fires of desire rose to claim him once again. Holding both her wrists with one hand, his other hand stroking her thighs, Elrath began to thrust in earnest. Thema's entire body was rocked from his efforts, and she threw her head back, closing her eyes, as he placed his mouth on her breasts and began to suck on her nipples. She strained at his imprisoning hands, not making any real effort to break free, yet knowing she could not have even had she tried, and secretly delighting at desire she inspired in him. When he freed her hands, she looked at him through long lashes. He supported his body with both hands and was now driving himself deeply – she felt his touch in her deepest recesses, and groaned audibly. But she looked in his eyes, and saw the conflict there. As much as she wanted to feel the strength of his body and his will to claim her, she could not allow him to doubt. Clamping herself against him, she clutched at him and rolled over, shifting until he was seated against the furs. His surprise at her actions almost made her want to laugh. She kissed him deeply instead, whilst her hips began to grind against him. She pulled her mouth away from his, a thin line of saliva still connecting them. He was sweating as much as she was – their movements against each other were noisy and wet. A single bead of sweat rolled down his face to hang on his chin and she reached down to suck at it. In reaction, he placed his hands on her breasts. They were too large to encompass in one hand alone, and the oil and sweat of her body made them silky as well as soft. Thema reached up to hold his hands against her, guiding him to her nipples, groaning and arching her back as he pinched and tweaked them. Elrath looked over her with fascination. He was not shy of women, nor was he lacking for their attentions, but the elves had their way of wooing and lovemaking – years of courting and, once consented to, intimacy that lasted for hours at a time, with their bodies always against one another – the act of which was unlike the intense and primal lust of this coupling that he had been drawn into and threatened to drive him mad. He had never wanted to find release so badly. Her groans and whimpers, the spasms of her body, her frenzied kisses and scratching nails were all stretching him beyond his limits. Thema already knew that she belonged to him, and he to her, even if he didn't already know it. There was only want and curiosity left in his eyes, both of which she was willing to satisfy. Suddenly he stiffened and grunted beneath and she prepared herself to receive him, but it was not so. Was he still holding back? The light of the moon had shifted, and the passage of time had been fairly substantial. Was it normal for his kind to have lasted so long? She had spied on couples before; their pairings seemed brief in comparison. Though fascinated, she felt close to exhaustion. She wanted to be claimed by him so that she could surrender herself. She had to have him. Stopping for a moment to catch her breath and call the last of her strength, she looked him in the eyes, and then turned around without releasing him. Raising herself slightly, she looked at him over the dark curve of her shoulder, hoping the sight of her best asset was to his liking. She turned back so that he could not see her secret smile, having seen him staring at her large dark cheeks and the length of his pale manhood that seemed to disappear between them. She glanced down between her legs for a view of the same, reaching to tease his heavy sacs with her nails, tracing patterns of greed and lust until her squirmed. Tensing her muscles about him, Thema began; her thighs rocking and seductive black buttocks rolling on him. She looked down to watch him penetrate her, watching his engorged rod disappear into her bush to split the lips of her sex and drive into the hot moist places within. She almost could not believe it was her. Griping at his legs for support, she began to ride him with greater ardour. The sounds of her backside as it slapped wetly against his firm abdomen filled the room and they sweated in the heat and humidity of the room, even as the occasional gusts of wind from the night chilled them. A feral groan escaped her lips as she felt his hands suddenly on her waist, his fingers digging into her dark flesh. He drew her down hard, even as he drove his waist upward to meet her. Thema dug her nails into his skin. They were both lost to the act now. Racing towards their shared destinies, they began to work with greater ferocity and their moans, sobs, gasps and grunts drowned out the crackling of the fire. Distant Shores The pleasure building in Elrath's groin suddenly rose markedly, and a low cry escaped his lips, his smooth rhythmic movements becoming suddenly erratic. Thema began to jerk with him, encouraging, demanding his climax. There was a faint rustle of something smooth against his thigh. Looking down he saw the blue scarf which had slipped from his harm onto the furs. His lust-fuelled madness suddenly left him. He knew what was coming and he was torn between the demands of the body and the dictates of his mind. He thought of his sweetheart back in the realms, but it was far removed, and she had always been impersonal for their pairing had been arranged, as all nobility made their matches. The heavy wet slap of Thema's cheeks on his body reminded him of all he lacked and all he had now. Elrath thought of his nobility, civilisation and the fairness of skin, where Thema was merely a village headman's daughter, a tribal woman, and her skin was dark ebony. He did not try further with that train of thought, for it was almost his undoing, and he only held back through sheer effort of will that made his temples throb. His reflexive gasp for breath from the exertion was loudly audible and Thema redoubled her efforts, thinking him near the brink. It was so close now. The elf had not yet embraced the idea throwing his line down the path of a mixed heritage. He did not even try to hope it would result in nothing – the fertility of the human female was far greater than that of his own, and this dark-skinned variety seemed even more so, to judge from the size of their families. But he could no longer command his body to stop, his ability to focus being impossible, and he knew that it would only end with his climax. Yet if he did not stop he would breed with her... Despite herself, Thema's body could not hold back her own orgasm any longer. The rush of fluids began without her consent and the spasm of climax was upon her, turning her crotch into a pool of liquid fire. She brought herself down and grinded against him, the burning pleasure raging through her body, drawing out a wailing cry as she did so. She pitched forward to the floor as her strength failed her, sobbing through the shuddering pulse of her orgasm as it consumed her, body and soul. There was no longer any moments for Elrath. His heart was beating in his ears as he felt his scrotum draw close to his body and his erection swell. He felt the surge that could not be stopped and he could find only one answer to his dilemma. Thrusting his hand beneath her, he rudely pulled himself out with desperate haste, sliding from her clutching slit, to rest between the oiled ovals of her magnificent backside. He could no longer hold back at the sight of his manhood contrasted against those dark ebony cheeks and he cried out as his own orgasm tore through him. His clamped down on his pulsing rod of flesh and he felt his seed rise like an irresistible stream. Then the head grew purple and angry and his veins stood out boldly. A painful jerk sent the first spurt of his scalding seed across her back, to rest like pearly drops against her dark flesh. Thema did not understand what had happened, having never experienced nor seen this, but she knew that it was in some way connected with her lover's ecstasy, so she rolled her bare backside against him for his pleasure and felt more of his hot liquid fall on the small of her back and her cheeks. She moaned softly in response. The throbbing pleasure continued for Elrath, emptying his aching sacs until at last there was no more, leaving him jerking futilely at his softening manhood. He watched, with perverse delight, the creamy drops of his essence roll down her thighs. Elrath's entire body relaxed and he fell back upon the furs. Thema sat up and lowered herself gently onto him, smearing his thick, sticky seed between them, and reaching back to caress his hair. He reached forward, his fingers idly playing in the bush on her thighs and his arm holding her close. The fire died at last and they dreamed of the future together. **** Thanks for staying with it till the end. I know it was a lengthy read, but my imagination got the better of me! If you liked the story, please send comments. If you think it can be improved, send your suggestions and criticisms. I had originally planned to make this part of a series, but thought I should wait for responses first. Thanks everybody! Looking forward to your feedback!