Note ;

This is not just a sex fib, it is more a novella, that contains denotative sex, so be advised, if you don't want a farseeing story, only sex, then delight don't read.

All references to the Wodaabe tribe are absolutely accurate.

Excuse any inaccuracies with wish to metre and distance, I have sailed on many seas but I am not a sailing master,

... ... ....

It seemed to be forever that we had been searching for the slavers. In fact, for five calendar week now, we had been cruising the southern islands of the Caribbean.

We had sighted them once, two ships close to the purview, but near enough for the best top man to be able to defecate out their sail rig, we knew it was them.

Their course had suggested that they were making for Guiana in South America, they were trying to run the blockade of the Royal Navy, that had been set up after most European countries had outlawed slavery

But then, the hurricane had struck, it was one of the unfit in living retentiveness, and it had come upon us with so little warning, no time at all to make for a safe seaport, especially if you were too far from Land. Any ships caught at sea were in serious trouble, especially anything small, the only safe home was one of the well-sheltered harbours.

We were close to land but with no suitable harbour end by, we had no choice but to run before the wind. This in itself has not been loose, we had only just managed to light up the tip of one island, in constant quantity danger of the wind driving us ashore, where we would feature foundered on the vicious stone we could see all too clearly, just a hundred cubic yard off our beam.

The slavers had faced exactly the Lapp predicament, but their course of action had allowed them to draw to the east of the islands, where-as, we had been forced to the west.

For three days we rode the storm, canvas ripped away, spars broken like match-sticks, craggy seas battering the ship. Most of the crew had never before been so frightened, even some of the onetime hands, 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 clock time it had started to ease, we barely had a canvas left inviolate. A Chaos of hanging forget me drug and railing smashed. Even two guns had broken adrift below, smashing everything in their path, before the headman Gunner and his gun crews somehow managed to insure them safely once more.

The sailmaker and his team were now working like trojans, stitching and patching whatever was available, in an attack to give us sufficient canvas so we could gain headway, to once Sir Thomas More set a course.

The First Mate reported to the Captain, that although the ship had sprung at least two board below the waterline, for the present moment the pump were coping well enough at keeping the weewee in the bilge at a safe point. But, he pointed out we could only do a few days of pumping before we ran out of men fit decent to man the ticker. Quite a number were carrying injuries, such as a broken arm or a badly turned mortise joint, the Doctor had been kept busy.

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

The slaver had disappeared, they could be anywhere by now if they had survived the storm that is. Perish the thinking, of the troth of those inadequate somebody, chained below deck of cards, life would have been sheer hell for them, and no probability of survival should their ship have suffered any mishap. The slave trader would not have released them from their prison, they would throw drowned, chained where they were.

The police chief had decided that we set a course of action that would take us between Granada and St. Vincent, allowing us a vague chance of sighting our prey. Failing any sighting, we would uphold magnetic north to St. Lucia, a suitable place to carry out the necessity haunt we needed.

It was the bosun who suggested to the Captain that perhaps he nominate a small detour to the eastward, he seemed to think an island named Mustique, where he thought there was a heavy bay with waters deep enough to reserve a ship to border on the beach, this was to the South west of the island, he recalled the gens of Les Jolies Eaux or similar. It was a shoes buccaneer had often used in the past, it might be potential the slavers were there. The French were more run to move around a blind eye, as long as there was no trouble.

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

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

"What canvass ?"the headwaiter hollered.

The lookout station reported seeing nothing.

The Captain, was at the chart board, to the First Officer he ordered,"Alter course to study us east, we'll clear the bay to the south and anchor the other face of the approximate headland. If they're there, they won't see our sail."

The anchorman was dropped in only eight fathoms of water system. The recollective gravy boat was ordered out and duly settled in the weewee alongside. The First lieutenant led a party of five straw hat, six Marines, plus one Midshipman.

They were to shoot down at the promontory of the belittled bay, from there trek to the top of the headland, where, if the slave dealer were there, they would see them below. He would raise a green flag if they were, red if there was nothing.

Three hour later, the lookout called,"Green flag, just below the head, sir."

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

The slavers were there, one at anchorman, the other careened on the beach, an well-to-do butt it would seem.

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

The police captain's architectural plan was for the marines and a handful of sailors to wait until midnight before crossing the head, to contract up a position in the scrub and tree overlooking the beach.

At aurora, we would navigate across the mouth of the bay. The ship would raise a monition dig, to lay close on the anchored vessel. At the same time, the marines would afford fire at any crew that was visible.

At the allotted time, we cleared the headland,"Fire when set up,"came the ordering, the honcho Gunner laid his aim, then touched his burning wax light to the firing pickle. A swarm of hummer, momentarily hid the slaver from view, as the blowup died away the speech sound of musket fire, from the marines could be clearly heard.

It was all over, within proceedings the slavers had hauled their colours, we tacked about, then sailed in, the clayey bow chaser aimed at the slave dealer, just in case of any trickery.

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

The First Officer was to guide another party ashore to take the beached slave trader, supported by the marines and sailors already ashore.

It was only a short pull to get us alongside the slaver, one gravy holder either incline and then we boarded, ready for a battle. The crew had, however, had already discarded their weapons and offered no resistance, they were leader-less, all of their officers being ashore.

"Uncover the crosshatch,"I ordered. The malodor that came from below was fearsome as the covers came away, we could listen the wailing that came from within.

"bos'n, send two of the slavers down, have them release the striver and fetch them up on deck."

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

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

A shout came from the master's companionway."Sir, I think you needs be seein'this."He led the way to the Captains cabin.

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

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

Just in sentence, I saw the vane flying at me, I ducked and heard the thumping as it buried into the door frame, in from my oral sex. She was like a uncivilized beast spitting at me, as she searched for something else to throw.

I saw that a chain of mountains was attached to the shackle fastened around her ankle, she could only move in a pocket-size arc, perhaps three feet or so.

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

She was very grandiloquent, her hair was long and it crested in a wave above her forehead, her bosom were mellow and stood out firmly in front line of her. I even noticed the bright white of her perfectly formed teeth. The only defect, if you can call it that, were the patterns scarred across her face and above her knocker, 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 realness, as a heavy home base narrowly missed me. There was now though nothing else within her reach that she could confuse. Her eyes cast desperately about, I could see she was on the verge of tears, she shrank back from me, as I took a step forward.

I placed my handgun and blade on the table, well out of her orbit. I held out my hands, palms up, and empty."It's okay, I mean you no harm,"I spoke quietly and in a mollify voice, although I doubted she understood a word 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 ewer of weewee on the table, so I poured a cup, and held it out to her. She looked at me, heart wide and frightened. I slowly moved a step finisher, she tried to squinch 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 scope out.

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

I called out of the cabin,"Fetch the bos'n for me."I instructed him to come out a sentry duty on the cabin, on botheration of death, if he let anyone enter.

On deck once more, I sent a boat ashore with instructions to lend the slaver Captain back.

I pushed the Captain ahead of me, into his cabin, the girl shrieked and cowered down, but I shoved him roughly into the chair at his table."Tie him up,"I ordered.

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

"Senor, I do not acknowledge her name, she is from North Africa, the desert area far inland from the glide, I believe that her citizenry are called the Wodaabe or possibly the Fulani.

Later I would find out from our doctor, that the Wodaabe were a roving tribe sustenance along the southern edges of the Sahara, they were not Negro, some thought they originated one C ago from United Arab Republic. Their language is entirely unique to them, zero similar is spoken anywhere in the then known Africa.

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

"Senor, take care, she is very dangerous."But he indicated a draw.

"issue him away, put him with the rest, I've no compliments to set eye on him again."

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

It was when I got closer, that I saw the wale on her arms and shoulders, angry Deutsche Mark showed the beating she had been given. I rose to fetch a roll and cloth, I dipped the cloth in cold urine, then offered it towards her arm.

She stared at me as I reached out and laid the cloth on her injuries, I saw her flinch 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 cloth on her handwriting 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 bowl, then indicated for her to turn, she didn't appear to get my substance, so I pointed at my cover 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 unfold deletion right across her back. She must let been in tremendous pain.

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

I took the key from my air hole, and held it up, I pointed at her articulatio talocruralis, then tried to betoken a chill out motion with my custody. She seemed to understand because she gave me a small nod. I unlocked her restraint and waited for her to run, but instead, she sat and rubbed at her vain ankle.

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

qualification certain the safeguard was at the door first, I then went over to the curtain that shielded the Captain's pantry. I found only cooky, lettuce and some stale cheese, I piled some on a home base and took them back to her. She took some gelt and ate, I watched as she sniffed at the cheeseflower, she seemed quenched and took a little bite.

For the first time, a small smile touched her face, as she commenced to eat all the Malva sylvestris. I fetched the cup of body of water to her, she drank again, thirstily.

I found one of the maitre d'hotel 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 other arm, this time she put her arm though herself, I laid the pinch gently over her shoulders

She stood and looked into the mirror and studied her reflectivity, 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 doll 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 push button, then she pushed my deal away and fastened the sleep herself.

I pointed upwards to above deck, and turned to the door, her handwriting took my arm and stopped me, I turned to front, 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 temperateness. I watched her as she took in everything around us.

The freed hard worker now in the open, sitting in the ship's bows, with fresh weewee to fuddle and salt water system to bath. None were like her, not in any way.

She saw the slaver's crew, sitting under guard, she went towards them as I followed closely, she stopped in forepart of one of the senior pilot, then she spat at him and her hand shot out and slapped his face with a resounding crack, hard enough to rap him over, for a moment she stood looking down at him, then she spun around and walked away.

I led her to the side, pointed to the boat and then the shoring, she nodded and took my provide hand to be helped up and over the side, before climbing down to the boat.

Onshore, I enquired if the MD was about, then found him in a tent set up as a temporary medical room. The girl looked worried, faced with this bearded monstrosity of a man. But I reached for her hand, carefully pulled up a sleeve, showing the MD the welts.

He tutted, then swore, but quickly reached for one of his many slew, before he applied a ointment, with tender care for such a goliath of a man. It must have had an immediate soothing consequence, I saw her smile, a little more the earlier.

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

The Dr. 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 curse as crewman will.

The doc fetched another pot, saying this would sting. I took her manus in mine and smiled at her. She gripped hard when the lotion entered her combat injury, her eyes fixed on mine, I saw one tear leave her eye, to roll down her cheek.

"At least they're clean, no signaling of any transmission at the moment, but I'll need to turn back them again tomorrow."

I pulled her to her substructure, after replacing her shirt, she turned and touched the Dr.'s hired man, saying a few language in her strange language. Then she followed me out.

The master was striding across the Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin towards us,"well done Lieutenant, a prissy job today."He looked at the girl,"The bos'n has told me about the girlfriend, how she was found. He seemed to believe for a instant,"I'm putting you in bidding of the slaver you took, you're to admit the least fountainhead of the slaves and navigate her to Barbados, the governor can decide on what best to do with them. As you seem to be the one she trusts, you'll take her with you. How soon can you have the ship ready to sweep ?"

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

He said that they would stay here with them, as I wouldn't have a tumid adequate crew, to both sail the ship and have to go along safeguard on the slavers.

The bosun soon had the hands fussy sorting canvass and spars, so I was glad to leave him in charge.

The bosun had sent two men to rear a tent, just in the corner line, Two cots were installed, a wash washbowl and small bench completed the furnishings. One of the seamen lit a fire and set a pot, fresh water boiling for coffee.

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

We had drunk our java, the young woman pointed to the tree, I looked puzzled. She made a"PS"variety of dissonance, I felt pillock when I understood and must have blushed. She smiled, then disappeared into the trees.

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

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

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

Sometime later, I gently shook her awake, her fear came back, her hired man raised to impinge on out at me, then awareness dawned on her aspect, she took my hands and spoke, naturally I knew not what she said.

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

"Fulala,"She said.

I handed her a plate of food for thought, 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 Methedrine of vino in my hand.

Darkness had fallen when I checked her, she still slept soundly, a more peaceable feel to her face.

I turned the lamp down low, just enough to leave a glow, should she waken. Then I lay down, it had been a long and severely day, in instant I was asleep.

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

The early morning brightness level struck my face, I jumped awake, then rose and splashed my boldness. There was no sign of Fulala, but I smelled umber brewing. The collapsible shelter flap raised high, she came in and handed me a cup,"Jim"she said.

A commotion erupted somewhere along the beach, I snatched up my shooting iron, rushing from the tent. A crowd was gathering just along the tree line. When I had pushed my way through I saw the slaveholder maitre d'hotel swinging from a R-2 tied to a branch above.

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

I frowned at him, wondering how the now dead Captain would experience been capable to get past the sentry and then drown to shore up before hanging himself. It didn't seem at all likely.

back 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 header vehemently, she uttered a string of unknown words, then stormed off towards the boat.

On plank she followed me everywhere, she would never go out my side, I had a permanent shadow. I even saw some of my crew, slyly nudge and blinking at each early. But she would not go near any of them, she would shroud behind me should one approach for instructions.

That evening I sat for a piece, once more with my pipage, Fulala came and sat close, she leaned her shoulder to mine, her hired man resting on my knee.

My organ pipe empty, she stood and took my hand, then led me inside. She picked up the pot of balm provided by the medico 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 physician. Gently I rubbed some into the welts across her shoulders, then her bridge player came up to get across mine, she held it still for a import, then she was pulling my hand down to her tit, she held it to her, once Sir Thomas More just holding it still, then she began to prompt my paw, around her breasts, she pushed my fingers to a mammilla, squeezing them around it, I could palpate it harden under my touch.

She turned to front me, speaking softly, it seemed to be a chant of some kind. Her digit went to the push of my shirt, to undo them one by one. She pushed it off of my shoulders letting it fell to the ground. Her hands came to my dresser, her fingers exploring as she appeared to be examining my white skin.

She undid and dropped my breeches, then fetching the bowl, she washed me. She smiled when she lowered my pant, 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 sass, and she kissed my fingers. Then she lay beside me, doing nothing else, except facial expression into my face, she was waiting for me to have the first move.

Once more I took hold of her white meat, to admire their firmness and the now very hard nipples. I was indeed captivated by their beauty. Her eyes never left mine, the gaze was intent in its scrutiny.

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

I moved my lips towards her, she came to foregather them, the kiss was deep and lingering, her large lips were a delectation to feel. I pushed my glossa between her rim, she opened to satisfy me, her natural language exploring mine.

She flinched slightly when my hired hand went to her shoulder, I had for a moment, block her injuries. Instead, I moved my bridge player to her waist and pulled her to me, I felt her get-up-and-go her body at me in response.

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

My script was pulled from her shank as she raised a knee, to push me between her legs. She was not circumcised as are many African girls, her lips were broad but voiced to my fingers.

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

For a while I admired their feel, before entering her with a finger's breadth, I felt the passion and a minuscule wetness. She jerked towards my hand, as I found her button, it came to life under my ghost, I rubbed and caressed, and she gripped me tighter.

Her mouth left mine and moved to my pectus, her spit and backtalk roamed over me. She kissed my nipples, gently bit with her teeth. Then continuing on pile, she paused to experience my hard chorded belly muscles. The hired hand holding my humanness lifted it to her lips, her knife came out and tasted me. Then her lips opened across-the-board, allowing her oral cavity to descend, engulfing me. Her head rolled, moving me around inside her mouthpiece

Now, I could feel the wetness between her legs, her hips grinding into my hand as I teased.

Suddenly she rose above me, changed her consistence emplacement to straddle my hips with her thighs, then to lift herself, as she rubbed my tip along her slit, searching for, and then finding her entree. She slowly lowered her consistency to necessitate me inside, down she went as I was absorbed deeper and deeper.

I felt her muscle clenching on me, then she leaned her upper consistence down to my chest, she spoke to me, just before her lip met mine. Her rose hip began to rise along my length, then down again, the question slowly becoming faster, her digit dug recondite and hard into my shoulder as her fervor mounted.

She spoke again as her body began to tense, this clip I could infer at what she was telling me, I allowed the flavor surging inside of me a gratis reign, my rooster responded. She sat back, now upright, her digit clawing at my chest, as she bounced herself furiously.

It was my metre, I let loose inside her, I saw her coup d'oeil at me, she had felt me cumming, then she went stiff, only her hips flexing, driving her orgasm, as she also climaxed.

I was spent, completely drained, when she fell forward, her head nestled to my neck, her hands holding my arms. Still, she gently rocked her pussy on my cock, a soft caress.

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

( writer's note ; The Wodaabe have completely different views on sex to that of the western world, relinquish sexual activity from puberty until marriage is pattern, provided it is never expressed in populace view. most are experienced before their latterly stripling. )

The next day, we sailed for Barbados, heading for the majuscule of Bridgetown. The voyage would be windy having to tack constantly, the winds at this time of year, would always be against us, It would be a tiring journey with only a small 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 screen erected across one half of my cabin, Sir Thomas More to stay the scuttlebutt than for our own privacy. It wouldn't pay to be too obvious. Only the boatswain 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 denial with their huge canons. We fired six canon, paying our respects to the Governor as we cleared the fort.

At the signal arm, I had raised flags, requesting I might be received as soon as possible, I wanted to shift obligation for the freed slaves as quickly as possible.

Two hours later, the Governor's aide had agreed to take the slaves off my hands, 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 job. My spirit for her ran oceanic abyss. It wasn't love, but I knew I had to do more for her, I had no idea what, but knew I must try something.

Back on control board once more, the Bosun approached me,"Menachem Begin your pardon sir, might I be ‘ avin a word of honor ? In secret, so to utter, if you wouldn't be mindin ’, sir."

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

"I know it rightly, not be'in my business sir, but I's taken the liberty of speakin'with the lighter Captain. He tells me there be a plantation owner that employs some what was slave. He says there could be a blighter that might be able to speak with Fulala. apologise me interferin'like, I hope's I ain't done wrong."

"Bosun, you're a Hero of Alexandria, here come and have a glass with me and I thank you most sincerely."

The adjacent morning, I hired a trap and set off overland for Saint John, a journey of some twenty odd miles. I was in a desperate 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 work party of mordant prole we passed, sometimes a look of Leslie Townes Hope, then disappointment at seeing none of her own multitude, I supposed.

The grove owner was a pleasant character, he showed no hesitation in inviting us both into his home and oblation refreshment.

No sooner had I explained my problem, and he promptly called a servant, speaking in the local anesthetic lingo to him, before the man nodded with a grin, and off he went.

Perhaps half an hour had passed, when the handmaid appeared in the threshold, another stood behind him. The possessor spoke to him, I didn't follow what was said but I did get wind Fulala's public figure mentioned.

The fellow 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 face, she beamed at him, intelligence gushed from her. The dude raised his deal, indicating for her to slow down, with an obvious endeavour she did.

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

A long 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 looker, they were Worth a circumstances to them. He explained that Fulala wanted to distinguish me of her gratitude for her rescue, She had come to pull in that all white people were not evil after all, just the slavers. Her fear was for what would become of her. Could I keep her as a servant or something, just so long as she could stay with me ?

She looked crestfallen when I explained that this wouldn't be possible, as I was a function officer in the Royal USN. She took my paw, her eyes beseeching, my heart went out to her, but what could I do ?

The owner, his name was William Fergus, invited us to stay put a few Day, if we could. He would take majuscule pleasure in showing us over the plantation. I was in no rush to bring back, my police chief wouldn't arrive for at to the lowest degree another five Day, or even more.

Fulala remained behind, she wanted to carry on speaking with our translating program, whilst I rode with William. The sights were indeed spectacular, just as William had promised, especially at the slide. I thought this was an island I could happily live on.

Back at the theatre in time for dinner party, I was shocked to see Fulala approach path dressed in a gorgeous and brightly coloured wearing apparel. She said"Kanu,"pointing at the translator.

Kanu confirmed that his wife had insisted on making the girl decent in forepart of God-fearing the great unwashed. I couldn't concur more, as I looked at Fulala, she was just so beautiful.

She looked at me,"Hello, Jim,"She did a twirl, then paused to think,"Like ?"A meditative look on her aspect. Her Christian Bible, albeit, just a few, were in English, Kanu had been engaged and I was delighted.

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

Both she and Kanu looked extremely delight with themselves.

Over dinner, I enquired of William, as to what sum of money of money I might postulate to purchase a small plantation, that is if there even were such a place available.

The amount he mentioned, did not particularly inspire me with any self-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 respective rooms. I lay for some meter pondering on my future tense. What did I want ? Where was I going in sprightliness ? And so on. I had been happy with my career in the United States Navy, but I knew that I was in a rut. There was slight chance of promotion, with no wars being fought, what with EU in a nation of anxious truce, I saw minuscule prospect of bettering myself. Maybe it was time to switch focussing. I was by no means rich, yes I had prize monies owed me, and the gaining control of the slave trader would add to that, but was it enough ?

I saw rather than heard my room access candid, Fulala peered through the gap,"Please"she said.

In response to my nod, she closed the threshold behind her and ran quietly barefoot to me."howdy Jim"it didn't seem to quite fit the spot, but it was nice none-the-less.

She dropped the smock she was wearing, then lifting the cover charge she was beside me, her trauma had improved immensely, so now she lay on her back and she pulled me to her.

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

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

Roughly, she pushed my oral sex down towards her thigh, whilst pulling my own towards her face. For a moment it was an ill at ease tactic, then my lips were at her kitty-cat and hers found me, as our bodies now faced each early position by side.

My cock was swallowed deep in her lip, as my fingers separated the flaps between her thigh, I could see the whiteness inside, that contrasted with her pelt. My tongue delved as deep as it could, I wanted to taste her, I wanted to climb inside her. I licked up between her lips to arrive at her button, it seemed larger to my tongue than it had to my fingers, soon it hardened under the my caress.

Two fingers were now inside her, feeling her, teasing her and pleasing her. My script felt the wet, almost pouring from within, her second joint gripped my psyche, squeezing punishing. I sensed my time was coming, so I lifted my face away and turned my soundbox. 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 abstruse inside her vagina. She bucked her hips up to meet my thrusts, as we fucked each other.

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

Her hips thrust hard at me, we lost the tempo but it didn't matter, she started to escape from under me, the moan became an animal like growling. I tried to screw harder, but her wooden leg wrapped me in their embrace, pulling me and holding me mysterious. I could feel her interior milking me as I came, even in my climax I saw the huge satisfied grin on her face. She pulled my face to hers,"Jim, I love."

The next day, William suggested that Fulala should stick there, while I returned to capital of Barbados. He said Kanu and his wife were willing to have her arrest with them. And besides, Kanu had been trying to teach her some English.

She clung to my helping hand, even when I had mounted, tears in her eyes as she spoke in her own linguistic communication."Don't vexation, Fulala, I'll be back soon, you'll be fine here."She didn't understand me, but she did look a slight happier, perhaps it was the mildness with which I spoke.

The police captain's ship arrived the next day, along with the other slave trader. I reported on board and appraised the Captain of the help the regulator's staff 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 clean to her, allowing her to perhaps be reading something into her situation that I couldn't possibly deliver.

It was at that moment, I realised what I wanted. It was the trigger I needed. I could resign my commission and easily get an onward motion against my trophy money.

I went ashore to the jacket crown agentive role office. He was able-bodied to advise, as to approximately what my credit currently stood at, based on the prize money inclination. Although he thought it could well be duplicate that, once dues were added from later prizes.

My next telephone call was to a orchard sales agent, he was sure he could show me something that would satisfy my needs and more importantly, be within my budget, there were three possible action 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 mark of Fulala but found William on his veranda. I explained to him my sentiment, he said the agent was fair and could be trusted, within grounds anyway.

He knew which were likely to be two of the belongings, one quite close by, not with child but viable, it would bring on an income, not sufficient to earn anyone rich, not by any means, but that with gruelling work, it could flourish. He said the plantation was being worked under a lease agreement but that the home were currently empty.

I asked if I might borrow Kanu tomorrow, for the day.

We took the gob, and half an time of day later, Kanu pointed to a somewhat overgrown drive. Turning a recess and the house came into prospect, I stopped to stare. It wasn't a huge piazza but it was totally charming. A slug of pigment here and there, and it would be restored to life.

I pushed the doors open, the hallway was gravid than I expected, the trappings were covered with cloths, as they turned out to be in all of the rooms. It was almost make and waiting for an occupier.

I asked Kanu to wait in the hall, Fulala and I toured the house, we took in every room, soon

I found myself more excite at the scene that this could get my household. I suddenly noticed that Fulala was wearing a bewilder frown. She pointed at me,"Jim, you ?"Then pointed to the house.

I took her hands,"Jim and Fulala."She studied my case, her own showing different emotions.

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

"Fulala will you wed me and live here with me ?"

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

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

She spoke again, and Kanu translated,"She say you are not pretty man, but big impregnable man. She think you do not postulate paint face to make 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 utter near English."

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

"Fulala have a go at it Jim, is you love Fulala ?"Her English needed work but it was a beginning !

The end .