Note ;

This is not just a sex floor, it is more a novelette, that contains expressed sex, so be advised, if you don't want a long story, only sex, then please don't read.

All references to the Wodaabe tribe are absolutely accurate.

Excuse any inaccuracies with compliments to time and distance, I have sailed on many ocean but I am not a navigator,

... ... ....

It seemed to be forever that we had been searching for the slave owner. In fact, for five weeks now, we had been cruising the southern islands of the Caribbean.

We had sighted them once, two ships close to the horizon, but near enough for the best top man to be able-bodied to realise out their sheet rig, we knew it was them.

Their course of instruction had suggested that they were making for Guiana in Dixieland America, they were trying to run the encirclement of the Royal Navy, that had been set up after near European res publica had outlawed slavery

But then, the hurricane had struck, it was one of the worst in living memory, and it had come upon us with so little warning, no time at all to hit for a good haven, especially if you were too far from land. Any ships caught at sea were in grave trouble, especially anything lowly, the only safe topographic point was one of the well-sheltered harbours.

We were last to land but with no suitable harbour close by, we had no choice but to run before the idle words. This in itself has not been easy, we had only just managed to clear the tip of one island, in constant danger of the wind driving us ashore, where we would have foundered on the condemnable careen we could see all too clearly, just a C thou off our beam.

The slavers had faced exactly the Lapplander predicament, but their line had allowed them to pass to the east of the islands, where-as, we had been forced to the west.

For three days we rode the storm, sheet ripped away, spars broken like match-sticks, mountainous seas battering the ship. Most of the bunch had never before been so panicked, even some of the older mitt, who had experienced the Bay of Biscay at its worst, had looked apprehensive.

I couldn't comprehend how we had not lost a mast.

By the time it had started to ease, we barely had a sail left intact. A topsy-turvyness of hanging ropes and railings smashed. Even two guns had broken adrift below, smashing everything in their way of life, before the Chief Gunner and his gun crews somehow managed to secure them safely once more.

The sailmaker and his squad were now working like trojans, stitching and patching whatever was available, in an attempt to generate us sufficient sail so we could realize headway, to once more set a course.

The First partner reported to the Captain, that although the ship had sprung at least two planks below the waterline, for the here and now the ticker were coping well enough at keeping the water in the bilge at a condom level. But, he pointed out we could only negociate a few daytime of pumping before we ran out of men fit enough to man the pumps. Quite a number were carrying accidental injury, such as a broken arm or a badly turned ankle, the doc had been kept busy.

We needed to make a landfall where the ship could be careened, to allow fixture to be carried out, re-caulking the sprung planking.

The slaveholder had disappeared, they could be anywhere by now if they had survived the storm that is. perish the thought, of the plight of those poor psyche, chained below deck of cards, liveliness would have been sheer hell for them, and no prospect of survival should their ship have suffered any mishap. The slavers would not have released them from their prison, they would have drowned, chained where they were.

The maitre d'hotel had decided that we set a course that would accept us between Granada and St. Vincent, allowing us a obscure chance of sighting our prey. Failing any sighting, we would uphold north to St. Lucia, a suitable place to hold out the necessary repairs we needed.

It was the bo's'n who suggested to the police chief that perhaps he take in a small detour to the East, he seemed to remember an island named Mustique, where he thought there was a large bay with waters deep enough to allow a ship to approach the beach, this was to the south Benjamin West of the island, he recalled the epithet of Les Jolies Eaux or similar. It was a place sea robber had often used in the past, it might be potential the slavers were there. The Gallic were more slope to ferment a blind eye, as long as there was no trouble.

If we could take hold of them in the bay, and as long as the winds were in our favour, they could be trapped.

One day later, came the shout,"Land ho, four point to larboard."( port side today ).

"What sail ?"the master hollered.

The observatory reported seeing nothing.

The Captain, was at the chart mesa, to the initiative Officer he ordered,"Alter row to take us east, we'll clear the bay to the south and anchor the other side of the cheeseparing headland. If they're there, they won't see our sail."

The anchor was dropped in only eight fathoms of urine. The farsighted boat was ordered out and duly settled in the water alongside. The First Lieutenant led a political party of five bluejacket, six Marines, plus one Midshipman.

They were to land at the head of the small bay, from there trek to the top of the headland, where, if the slavers were there, they would see them below. He would raise a green iris if they were, red if there was nothing.

ternary hours later, the observation post called,"Green signal flag, just below the head, sir."

The longsighted boat was sent the recall signal. The Marines under the control of the Middie remained ashore, as the sauceboat pulled hard, back to the ship.

The slavers were there, one at anchor, the other careened on the beach, an easily target area it would seem.

Two boats took another fourteen Marine and a handful of seamen ashore.

The maitre d''s plan was for the marines and a fistful of sailor to wait until midnight before crossing the head, to take away up a stance in the scrub and tree diagram overlooking the beach.

At dawn, we would sail across the mouth of the bay. The ship would open fire a word of advice shot, to lay close on the drop anchor vas. At the same clock time, the Marine would unfold fervour at any gang that was visible.

At the allotted time, we cleared the foreland,"Fire when ready,"came the order, the chief Gunner laid his aim, then touched his burning taper to the firing hole. A cloud of locoweed, momentarily hid the slaver from thought, as the explosion died away the sound of musket fervency, from the Marines could be clearly heard.

It was all over, within minutes the slavers had hauled their people of colour, we tacked about, then sailed in, the big bow chaser aimed at the slaver, just in lawsuit of any trickery.

The Captain turned to me,"Take a boarding party Lieutenant, two sauceboat I think will do, and secure that slaver."

The first-class honours degree officeholder was to lead another company ashore to learn the beached slave dealer, supported by the marines and sailor already ashore.

It was only a shortly twist to get us alongside the slave dealer, one boat either side and then we boarded, make for a fight. The crew had, however, had already discarded their weapons and offered no electric resistance, they were leader-less, all of their ship's officer being ashore.

"Uncover the hatches,"I ordered. The stench that came from below was dreadful as the covers came away, we could hear the wailing that came from within.

"Bosun, send two of the slavers down, have them resign the slave and convey them up on deck."

"pardon my saying sir, they might not get out alive, once they go down there."

"That's their problem, besides it would serve them right."

A yell came from the Captain's companionway."Sir, I think you needs be seein'this."He led the way to the police captain cabin.

"You needs be careful sir, she has a knife."

"What are you talking about man ?"I stepped through the doorway.

Just in time, I saw the blade flying at me, I ducked and heard the clump as it buried into the door frame, inches from my drumhead. She was like a wild animal spitting at me, as she searched for something else to throw.

I saw that a range was attached to the shackle fastened around her articulatio talocruralis, she could only affect in a small arc, perhaps three feet or so.

I stared at her with stupor, I could see that she was terrified, but also very brave and grave. She wasn't cowed as striver usually are after months at sea, she was a belligerent. She did not look like the typical Negro African.

She was very marvelous, her hair was long and it crested in a Wave above her forehead, her breasts were high gear and stood out firmly in front of her. I even noticed the superb Edward Douglas White Jr. of her perfectly formed teeth. The lone mar, if you can yell it that, were the patterns scarred across her face and above her breasts, they were, I thought, actually quite attractive.

She was like no African I had ever seen before if indeed that's what she was.

My thoughts came back to reality, as a dense plateful narrowly missed me. There was now though zip else within her reach that she could throw. Her optic cast desperately about, I could see she was on the verge of tears, she shrank back from me, as I took a footmark forward.

I placed my pistol and steel on the table, well out of her reach. I held out my mitt, palms up, and empty."It's okeh, I mean you no damage,"I spoke quietly and in a blue-blooded voice, although I doubted she understood a word of honor of it.

She was now backed against the cot she was chained to, she fell backwards, then scuttled to the bulkhead and cringed from me in the corner.

I saw a pitcher of water on the table, so I poured a cup, and held it out to her. She looked at me, eyes wide and pall. I slowly moved a step closer, she tried to wither yet further from me, I offered the cup closer, her eyes darted from the cup to my face, then back again, but she didn't reach out.

I lowered myself to kneel, still holding the cup to her and I continued speaking softly. Her hand lifted slightly but no Sir Thomas More, so I leaned and set the cup on the cot in figurehead of her, then I rose and stepped back.

I called out of the cabin,"Fetch the bosun for me."I instructed him to place a sentry duty on the cabin, on annoyance of death, if he let anyone enter.

On pack of cards once more, I sent a boat ashore with instructions to bring the slaver Captain back.

I pushed the police captain ahead of me, into his cabin, the daughter shrieked and cowered down, but I shoved him roughly into the chairwoman at his table."Tie him up,"I ordered.

"You speak English ?"I demanded. He affirmed, with a niggling bow of his headland."Who is she, and where's she from ?"

"Senor, I do not lie with her name, she is from north Africa, the desert neighborhood far inland from the seashore, I believe that her people are called the Wodaabe or possibly the Fulani.

Later I would learn from our MD, that the Wodaabe were a peregrine tribe livelihood along the southern edges of the Sahara Desert, they were not blackamoor, some thought they originated centuries ago from Egypt. Their language is entirely unparalleled to them, nothing similar is spoken anywhere in the then known Africa.

"Give me the key to her chains."I snapped at him.

"Senor, need caution, she is very dangerous."But he indicated a draw.

"Take him away, put him with the relief, I've no bid to set optic on him again."

I retrieved the key, I turned and showed it to her. I called the sentry and indicated for him to take my handgun and sword outside. Then, I approached the cot, with the key held out, I still thought that she might try and run the mo she was free.

It was when I got closer, that I saw the welts on her arm and shoulders, raging sign showed the thrashing she had been given. I rose to bring in a bowl and cloth, I dipped the cloth in cold water, then offered it towards her arm.

She stared at me as I reached out and laid the cloth on her injuries, I saw her wince but she remained totally tacit, gently I bathed her arm, and then the other. I went to put the cloth to her shoulder, but again she cringed away, I lay the material on her hand and pointed, she remained still for an age, then put it to her shoulder.

I was surprised when she passed it back to me. I dipped it in the bowling ball, then indicated for her to ferment, she didn't appear to get my meaning, so I pointed at my back and then at her.

Again she stared, but then, slowly she turned her back to me. I was horrified at what I saw, these weren't just wheal, some were open track right across her rachis. She must have been in terrible pain.

As gently as was potential, I bathed her back, this time she didn't flinch, not in the slightest. I tapped her arm, and she turned back to look me. There was a feeling of curiosity on her face.

I took the key from my pouch, and held it up, I pointed at her ankle, then tried to indicate a still motion with my hands. She seemed to sympathise because she gave me a small nod. I unlocked her simpleness and waited for her to run, but instead, she sat and rubbed at her swollen ankle.

I reached for her hand and pointed to the chair at the tabular array. She took my paw, still watching me intently, as I led her to the chair.

qualification sure the guard was at the door first, I then went over to the curtain that shielded the Captain's pantry. I found only biscuits, bread and some stale cheese, I piled some on a plate and took them back to her. She took some wampum and ate, I watched as she sniffed at the cheese, she seemed satisfied and took a picayune bite.

For the first clip, a lowly smile touched her face, as she commenced to eat all the high mallow. I fetched the cup of water to her, she drank again, thirstily.

I found one of the captain silk shirts and held it to her, but she looked puzzled. I lifted her arm and guided it to the sleeve, then pointed to her former arm, this clip she put her arm though herself, I laid the collar gently over her shoulder joint

She stood and looked into the mirror and studied her thoughtfulness, I pointed to my own shirt, showing her how it was tucked into my breeches. Without hesitation, she lifted the shirt and tucked it into the skirt she was wearing.

Her breasts though were still showing at the front, I indicated the buttons but she just frowned. Carefully I reached, she made no attempt to stop me as I fastened two buttons, then she pushed my hired hand away and fastened the relaxation herself.

I pointed upwards to above deck, and turned to the door, her hired hand took my arm and stopped me, I turned to take care, she gazed at me, then her hand came up, her fingers touched my cheek, then she spoke, I have no idea what she was saying, but I was reassured.

She indicated the doorway, so I led the way back up and into the sunniness. I watched her as she took in everything around us.

The disembarrass slaves now in the spread, sitting in the ship's obeisance, with fresh piss to tope and salt water to bathe. None were like her, not in any way.

She saw the slave trader's bunch, sitting under guard, she went towards them as I followed closely, she stopped in front of one of the chieftain, then she spat at him and her mitt shot out and slapped his case with a resonant crack cocaine, hard enough to knock him over, for a present moment she stood looking down at him, then she spun around and walked away.

I led her to the slope, pointed to the boat and then the shore, she nodded and took my volunteer hand to be helped up and over the slope, before climbing down to the boat.

Onshore, I enquired if the doctor was about, then found him in a tent set up as a temporary aesculapian room. The girl looked apprehensive, faced with this barbate monster of a man. But I reached for her deal, carefully pulled up a sleeve, showing the doctor the welts.

He tutted, then swore, but quickly reached for one of his many pots, before he applied a salve, with tender fear for such a colossus of a man. It must have had an immediate soothing essence, I saw her smile, a little more the earlier.

I sat her on a stool, and unbuttoned her shirt, to ease it from her shoulders.

The doctor swore, even louder, then apologised to her, I pointed out that she hadn't understood, so it hardly mattered.

The Bosun had entered, he saw her back, I heard him cuss as boater will.

The doctor fetched another pot, saying this would sting. I took her hands in mine and smiled at her. She gripped hard when the lotion entered her wounds, her center fixed on mine, I saw one rent leave her eye, to ramble down her cheek.

"At least they're clean, no sign of the zodiac of any transmission at the import, but I'll need to check them again tomorrow."

I pulled her to her animal foot, after replacing her shirt, she turned and touched the doctor's hand, saying a few word of honor in her unusual lyric. Then she followed me out.

The Captain was striding across the backbone towards us,"wellspring done Lieutenant, a prissy job today."He looked at the female child,"The boatswain has told me about the little girl, how she was found. He seemed to consider for a moment,"I'm putting you in statement of the slave dealer you took, you're to take the least well of the slaves and sail her to Barbados, the regulator can adjudicate on what C. H. Best to do with them. As you seem to be the one she trusts, you'll rent her with you. How soon can you induce the ship set up to sweep ?"

"Two days, at the most, should do it. What about her crew ?"

He said that they would stay on here with them, as I wouldn't have a enceinte enough work party, to both sail the ship and have to retain guard on the slavers.

The bosun soon had the hands engaged sorting sails and spar, so I was happy to leave him in charge.

The bos'n had sent two men to put up a tent, just in the Tree line, Two cots were installed, a wash drainage area and humble bench completed the trappings. One of the Jack lit a fire and set a pot, refreshed body of water boiling for coffee.

The seaman passed us two steaming mugs, then saying he would bring us food once the Captain Cook had produced something to eat, he left us alone.

We had drunk our coffee bean, the girl pointed to the tree, I looked puzzled. She made a"postscript"kind of noise, I felt stupid when I understood and must sustain blushed. She smiled, then disappeared into the tree diagram.

I realised my mistake, would she run, perhaps not to be seen again. But she did riposte and then she washed.

She pointed to the cot, I nodded, she went and laid down. In transactions she was asleep, laying on her English to protect her back, as I sat and studied her. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt.

( Authors note ; The Wodaabe are considered to be the most attractive of any airstream in Africa, they are not related in any way, to any Negro kin, neither are they Arabian. )

Sometime later, I gently shook her awake, her awe came back, her hands raised to strike out at me, then awareness dawned on her face, she took my deal and spoke, naturally I knew not what she said.

I pointed at my pectus and said"Jim."Then pointed at her, but she frowned, so I tried again, and this clip she responded.

"Fulala,"She said.

I handed her a photographic plate of food, she looked at the fork, then chose the spoon to eat. As soon as she had finished, she returned to the cot, she was clearly exhausted.

I sat and smoked my pipe, a glass of wine in my hand.

Darkness had fallen when I checked her, she still slept soundly, a more passive look to her expression.

I turned the lamp down low, just enough to leave a glow, should she rouse. Then I lay down, it had been a foresighted and hard day, in seconds I was asleep.

I woke in darkness, the lamp had burned out, I wondered what had woken me. An arm was laying across my pectus, I felt her body alongside mine. I smiled to myself in the darkness and went back to sleep.

The early morning visible light struck my face, I jumped awake, then rose and splashed my font. There was no sign of Fulala, but I smelled coffee brewing. The collapsible shelter flap raised higher, she came in and handed me a cup,"Jim"she said.

A commotion erupted somewhere along the beach, I snatched up my pistol, rushing from the tent. A crowd was gathering just along the tree line. When I had pushed my way through I saw the slaver Captain swing from a rope tied to a branch above.

My boatswain came over,"Looks like he ‘ ung ‘ iself !"he said with a immense grin.

I frowned at him, wondering how the now bushed maitre d'hotel would sustain been able-bodied to get past the picket and then swim to shore before hanging himself. It didn't seem at all likely.

vertebral column at my tent, I indicated to Fulala that I needed to go out to the ship, pointing for her to remain here, she shook her psyche vehemently, she uttered a drawstring of strange words, then stormed off towards the boat.

On board she followed me everywhere, she would never leave behind my position, I had a permanent wave tincture. I even saw some of my work party, slyly jog and New York minute at each other. But she would not go near any of them, she would hide out behind me should one glide slope for instructions.

That evening I sat for a while, once more with my pipe, Fulala came and sat close, she leaned her shoulder to mine, her mitt resting on my knee.

My tobacco pipe empty, she stood and took my hand, then led me inside. She picked up the pot of unguent provided by the doctor and passed it to me. Facing away from me, she removed her shirt, then stood to wait.

Carefully I applied it to her back, I could see it had much improved, thanks to the doctor. Gently I rubbed some into the wale across her shoulder joint, then her hand came up to cover mine, she held it still for a moment, then she was pulling my hand down to her chest, she held it to her, once Sir Thomas More just holding it still, then she began to motivate my hand, around her titty, she pushed my fingers to a pap, squeezing them around it, I could finger it season under my touch.

She turned to face me, speaking softly, it seemed to be a chant of some kind. Her finger's breadth went to the buttons of my shirt, to untie them one by one. She pushed it off of my shoulder letting it fell to the land. Her hands came to my chest, her fingers exploring as she appeared to be examining my Patrick White skin.

She undid and dropped my rear of tube, then fetching the bowl, she washed me. She smiled when she lowered my pants, then washed me there as well.

After pushing me to the cot, I lay down and watched her as she also washed. When she was done, she came and stood by the cot, looking down at me. I held my hired hand to her, she took it in hers, raised it to her lip, and she kissed my finger's breadth. Then she lay beside me, doing nothing else, except feel into my face, she was waiting for me to realize the start move.

Once more I took clutch of her breasts, to admire their resolve and the now very hard mamilla. I was indeed captivated by their knockout. Her optic never left mine, the regard was intention in its scrutiny.

Then she was whispering to me in her own language, how I wished I understood.

I moved my backtalk towards her, she came to meet them, the buss was bass and mess about, her large lips were a delight to feel. I pushed my tongue between her lips, she opened to conform to me, her spit exploring mine.

She flinched slightly when my script went to her shoulder, I had for a consequence, forgotten her injuries. Instead, I moved my hired man to her waist and pulled her to me, I felt her push her organic structure at me in reply.

Then her hand came between us, to find my hardening member. She caressed it, now squeezing, then stroking along its duration. She teased at the tip, circling her fingers.

My hand was pulled from her waist as she raised a knee joint, to crusade me between her legs. She was not circumcised as are many African girls, her lips were entire but sonant to my fingers.

( Author's not ; The Wodaabe are one of only a few clan in Africa, that do not practice any class of circumcision. )

For a while I admired their feel, before entering her with a digit, I felt the warmth and a little wetness. She jerked towards my hand, as I found her clitoris, it came to life history under my touch, I rubbed and caressed, and she gripped me tighter.

Her oral cavity left mine and moved to my chest, her tongue and lips roamed over me. She kissed my tit, gently bit with her teeth. Then continuing on John L. H. Down, she paused to palpate my hard chorded abdomen muscular tissue. The hired man holding my manhood lifted it to her sass, her lingua came out and tasted me. Then her lips opened wide, allowing her mouth to come down, engulfing me. Her head rolled, moving me around inside her rima oris

Now, I could palpate the wetness between her legs, her hip joint grinding into my hand as I teased.

Suddenly she rose above me, changed her consistence placement to straddle my hips with her thigh, then to swipe herself, as she rubbed my tip along her slit, searching for, and then finding her incoming. She slowly lowered her consistency to fill me inside, down she went as I was absorbed abstruse and deeper.

I felt her musculus clenching on me, then she leaned her upper berth organic structure down to my breast, she spoke to me, just before her lips met mine. Her coxa began to rebel along my distance, then down again, the motion slowly becoming faster, her fingers dug deep and difficult into my shoulder joint as her ardor mounted.

She spoke again as her consistence began to tense, this prison term I could guess at what she was telling me, I allowed the feelings surging inside of me a relinquish sovereignty, my cock responded. She sat back, now upright, her fingers clawing at my bureau, as she bounced herself furiously.

It was my clip, I let at large inside her, I saw her glance at me, she had felt me cumming, then she went rigid, only her hip joint flexing, driving her climax, as she also climaxed.

I was spent, completely drained, when she fell forward, her capitulum nestled to my neck opening, her workforce holding my weaponry. Still, she gently rocked her kitty-cat on my hammer, a soft caress.

Desperately, I wanted to arrest her tight to me, but her damaged back prevented me, instead I kissed her forehead. She looked up and smiled.

( generator's note ; The Wodaabe have completely dissimilar horizon on sex to that of the western sandwich world, gratis sexual activeness from puberty until marriage is normal, provided it is never expressed in public scene. nearly are experienced before their recent teens. )

The next day, we sailed for Barbados, heading for the capital of Bridgetown. The voyage would be tedious having to wear round constantly, the twist at this time of year, would always be against us, It would be a tiring journey with only a belittled crew.

look at a map, you might think it to be only a five or six days sail but it actually took nearly two weeks.

I had a CRT screen erected across one half of my cabin, more to quell the chin wagging than for our own privacy. It wouldn't pay to be too obvious. Only the bosun I imagine suspected that we shared a cot.

The ocean trip went smoothly enough, and eventually, we approached under reduced sail, beneath the watchful eye of the vindication with their huge canyon. We fired six canyon, paying our respectfulness to the governor as we cleared the fort.

At the sign arm, I had raised flags, requesting I might be received as soon as potential, I wanted to stir duty for the freed slaves as quickly as possible.

Two hour later, the regulator's aide had agreed to take the slaves off my work force, Fulala excepted. He assured me that they would be well and treated, suitable employment found for them as soon as they fully recovered from their ordeal.

Fulala was Sir Thomas More of a problem. My feelings for her ran deep. It wasn't love, but I knew I had to do more for her, I had no estimation what, but knew I must try something.

Back on panel once more, the boatswain approached me,"Begin your pardon sir, might I be ‘ avin a parole ? In private, so to speak, if you wouldn't be mindin ’, sir."

In my cabin, he doffed his cap at Fulala, with a little grinning, She smiled back. She had by now accepted him as someone she could trust, no longer showing any fear.

"I know it rightly, not be'in my clientele sir, but I's taken the liberty of speakin'with the barge Captain. He tells me there be a woodlet possessor that employs some what was striver. He says there could be a gent that might be capable to speak with Fulala. apologise me interferin'like, I hope's I ain't done wrong."

"bosun, you're a hero, here come and have a chicken feed with me and I thank you most sincerely."

The future cockcrow, I hired a yap and set off overland for Saint toilet, a journey of some twenty odd geographical mile. I was in a dire hurry, hoping it might be true that Fulala and I might at last communicate. I wanted to find out more about her.

I watched Fulala as she admired the scene of the beautiful island. I saw her looking at the mob of black proletarian we passed, sometimes a face of hope, then disappointment at seeing none of her own citizenry, I supposed.

The orchard owner was a pleasant character, he showed no indisposition in inviting us both into his domicile and offering refreshment.

No sooner had I explained my job, and he promptly called a retainer, speechmaking in the local patois to him, before the man nodded with a smiling, and off he went.

Perhaps half an hour had passed, when the servant appeared in the doorway, another stood behind him. The proprietor spoke to him, I didn't follow what was said but I did hear Fulala's name mentioned.

The chap came forward and spoke to her, she frowned shaking her head. He spoke again, in what was quite obviously a unlike language.

It was as if the sun shone from her human face, she beamed at him, Logos gushed from her. The swain raised his manpower, indicating for her to slow down, with an obvious effort she did.

The owner interrupted, he said we should sit ourselves out on the gallery, take as long as you like, he told us.

A prospicient conversation ensued, whilst I sat impatiently waiting. The lad then, in halting English, confirmed that Fulala was indeed from the Wodaabe people. The slavers targeted their women for their beauty, they were worth a fortune to them. He explained that Fulala wanted to tell me of her gratitude for her rescue, She had come to realise that all Edward White citizenry were not evil after all, just the slavers. Her fright was for what would become of her. Could I continue her as a retainer or something, just so long as she could stay with me ?

She looked crestfallen when I explained that this wouldn't be potential, as I was a service ship's officer in the royal US Navy. She took my helping hand, her eyes beseeching, my sum went out to her, but what could I do ?

The possessor, his name was William Fergus, invited us to stay a few mean solar day, if we could. He would take neat pleasure in showing us over the plantation. I was in no hurry to retrovert, my Captain wouldn't arrive for at least another five days, or even more.

Fulala remained behind, she wanted to stock on speaking with our translator, whilst I rode with William. The ken were indeed spectacular, just as William had promised, especially at the coast. I thought this was an island I could happily live on.

book binding at the house in fourth dimension for dinner, I was shocked to see Fulala approach dressed in a gorgeous and brightly coloured dress. She said"Kanu,"pointing at the translator.

Kanu confirmed that his wife had insisted on making the girl decent in forepart of devout mass. I couldn't tally Thomas More, as I looked at Fulala, she was just so beautiful.

She looked at me,"Hello, Jim,"She did a twirl, then paused to cerebrate,"Like ?"A pensive spirit on her fount. Her words, albeit, just a few, were in English, Kanu had been busy and I was delighted.

I took her hands, pulled her closer and kissed her on the cheek,"Hello Fulala, you look so lovely, yes I like."

Both she and Kanu looked extremely pleased with themselves.

Over dinner, I enquired of William, as to what amount of money I might require to buy a small-scale woodlet, that is if there even were such a position available.

The amount he mentioned, did not particularly inspire me with any confidence that there was any possibility of my raising the kind of sums involved.

Later following a pleasant evening and after brandy, taken along with my pipe, we retired to our various rooms. I lay for some time pondering on my future. What did I want ? Where was I going in life ? And so on. I had been happy with my career in the Navy, but I knew that I was in a rut. There was little fortune of packaging, with no wars being fought, what with Europe in a body politic of uneasy truce, I saw piffling scene of bettering myself. Maybe it was clock time to commute direction. I was by no means ample, yes I had prize monies owed me, and the gaining control of the slave dealer would add to that, but was it enough ?

I saw rather than heard my door open, Fulala peered through the gap,"Please"she said.

In reply to my nod, she closed the door behind her and ran quietly barefoot to me."Hello Jim"it didn't seem to quite fit the situation, but it was nice none-the-less.

She dropped the dust coat she was wearing, then lifting the covers she was beside me, her hurt had improved immensely, so now she lay on her back and she pulled me to her.

My lips found hers, it was a long candy kiss, before she pulled my typeface to her bare bosom, for me to cover them in kisses.

Her helping hand went straight between my legs, to lift my prick, then she massaged me, bringing life and a rapidly rising urge.

Roughly, she pushed my top dog down towards her thigh, whilst pulling my own towards her face. For a second it was an awkward evasive action, then my rim were at her pussy and hers found me, as our organic structure now faced each other side by side.

My cock was swallowed deep in her sass, as my fingers separated the flaps between her thighs, I could see the white inside, that contrasted with her cutis. My tongue delved as mysterious as it could, I wanted to taste her, I wanted to go up inside her. I licked up between her lips to get at her clit, it seemed larger to my spit than it had to my fingers, soon it hardened under the my caress.

Two fingerbreadth were now inside her, feeling her, teasing her and pleasing her. My script felt the wet, almost pouring from within, her thighs gripped my head word, squeezing difficult. I sensed my time was coming, so I lifted my face away and turned my body. I lay her flat, with me on top of her

Her legs spread wide to meet me as I lowered myself into her, the wetness smoothed the way, as I sunk deep inside her vagina. She bucked her hips up to touch my jabbing, as we fucked each other.

"Jim, Jim, Jim,"was all she said, then she was moaning softly, her fingers pulling my hair. Just as she always did, her body tensed, so I knew her climax was close.

Her hips push hard at me, we lost the pacing but it didn't issue, she started to shake under me, the moan became an brute like growling. I tried to have intercourse harder, but her leg wrapped me in their embracing, pulling me and holding me deep. I could feel her interior milking me as I came, even in my climax I saw the vast quenched grin on her cheek. She pulled my human face to hers,"Jim, I love."

The next day, William suggested that Fulala should stay there, while I returned to Bridgetown. He said Kanu and his married woman were volition to take her arrest with them. And besides, Kanu had been trying to teach her some English.

She clung to my mitt, even when I had mounted, tears in her eyes as she spoke in her own language."Don't worry, Fulala, I'll be back soon, you'll be fine here."She didn't understand me, but she did attend a short happier, perhaps it was the gentleness with which I spoke.

The maitre d'hotel's ship arrived the side by side day, along with the former slaver. I reported on board and appraised the maitre d' of the help the Governor's stave had given, and that the ex-slaves were being well looked after.

He frowned when told of Fulala's whereabouts, asking what on earth did I think I was doing, was I being fair to her, allowing her to perhaps be reading something into her situation that I couldn't possibly deliver.

It was at that import, I realised what I wanted. It was the trigger I needed. I could resign my commission and easily get an advance against my plunder money.

I went ashore to the peak federal agent office. He was able to advise, as to approximately what my credit currently stood at, based on the prize money list. Although he thought it could well be doubly that, once dues were added from later prizes.

My succeeding call was to a woodlet sales agreement factor, he was sure he could show me something that would gratify my motivation and more importantly, be within my budget, there were three possibilities ready for my review should I so wish. I promised that I would be in touch as soon as I could.

Back at the plantation, I could see no sign of Fulala but found William on his veranda. I explained to him my thoughts, he said the broker was honest and could be trusted, within reason anyway.

He knew which were likely to be two of the properties, one quite closely by, not large but practicable, it would bring on an income, not sufficient to make anyone deep, not by any means, but that with severe oeuvre, it could prosper. He said the plantation was being worked under a rent understanding but that the houses were currently empty.

I asked if I might take up Kanu tomorrow, for the day.

We took the trap, and half an hour later, Kanu pointed to a somewhat overgrown drive. Turning a corner and the house came into view, I stopped to stare. It wasn't a huge place but it was totally charming. A slug of paint here and there, and it would be restored to life.

I pushed the room access open, the hallway was gravid than I expected, the furnishings were covered with cloth, as they turned out to be in all of the rooms. It was almost ready and waiting for an occupier.

I asked Kanu to wait in the Charles Francis Hall, Fulala and I toured the mansion, we took in every room, soon

I found myself more excited at the prospect that this could go my home. I suddenly noticed that Fulala was wearing a at a loss frown. She pointed at me,"Jim, you ?"Then pointed to the house.

I took her hand,"Jim and Fulala."She studied my face, her own exhibit different emotions.

I shouted for Kanu, then told him what I wanted him to say.

"Fulala will you get married me and live here with me ?"

She spoke to Kanu, a very good looking on her face. Kanu laughed, whilst I looked perplexed.

Then he explained,"Wodaabe men have to paint face and face like pretty girl before they can win charwoman to be married, it is their way."

She spoke again, and Kanu translated,"She say you are not pretty man, but big strong man. She think you do not need paint face to cook her happy. She also said some other affair, but it is not proper for me to say. I think you must ask her yourself when she can mouth better English."

I looked from Kanu to her, she had a sly grin on her nerve as she ran into my arms.

"Fulala have intercourse Jim, is you love Fulala ?"Her English needed workplace but it was a start !

The end .