Fear

At barely eighteen years old, we had run away to elope. Neither of us could return, as our parents would likely kill us both, yet our longtime friendship had secretly been much more -- much, much more than what most people in our former hometown would ever allow.

Four long days of driving had brought us to the other side of the country, to a place where no one knew us by name or by sight. All we had were the clothes on our backs and what was in the old beat-up station wagon my father had given me barely three weeks earlier. If we budgeted properly and continued to camp every night instead of using even the cheapest of hotels, we could possibly stretch our money for another two weeks before we were truly broke.

We found a secluded area in the mountains and parked the station wagon. Although the mountain air was cool, we still felt the heat of our families' search for us. But, somehow, it no longer mattered, for we had finally done what we had discussed for perhaps six months:

We were now husband and wife. The rings were admittedly somewhat cheap, but the love we shared was indeed priceless.

After several days on the run, we had become fairly good at setting up camp relatively quickly. As the sun set and the trees' shadows darkened the campsite, we ate a meager dinner and shared a bottle of water. Nothing was said, for we were looking upon each other in a new light, for as of about five hours earlier, we were spouses.

I still could not believe that someone so beautiful and pale as snow could love someone like me. Even without any makeup, just her smile was enough to draw me to her. Her internal radiance attracted me like a moth to a flame.

I just hoped that this attraction would not prove deadly.

Eventually, what we both knew would happen began, slowly. She closed the short distance between us and leaned against me, a hand upon my chest to feel my heart beating for her. With an arm around her waist, I placed a hand upon her heart, feeling more connected to her than I ever had previously. And when I moved my hand to the left, she sighed happily, subtly arching her back to press more of her breast into my large palm.

For quite some time, we touched and caressed, fondled and groped. Soon we were laying in the grass, still fully clothed, but each of us fully aroused. Slowly, I rubbed myself against her thigh, and our lips joined at last. We volleyed the same breath back and forth as she helped me to move against her.

In time, however, that was not enough for either of us. She nudged me away long enough to unbutton and unzip her jeans, and I helped her remove them and her dampened panty together. To see her nearly-barren sex for the first time caused my breath to catch in my throat, for I had not known that she usually shaved her pubic hair, and the days away from home had not permitted her the opportunity to continue that practice.

Nonetheless, I was soon tasting her love, my tongue slithering between her moistened folds as her thighs moved sensuously against the sides of my head and her fingers curled in my short hair. Clearly this was no longer the shy girl I had met in middle school -- from the sounds and movements she made, she was truly a woman.

...my woman, and she wore the ring to announce it to the world.

As I continued to sample her love, I reached underneath me to unbuckle my belt and unbutton and unzip my jeans. It was difficult to do that with only one hand, but it was eventually accomplished, and I pushed my jeans and boxers down my thighs before finally lifting my wet face from the juicy sex before me. Sliding forward, I was soon over her, looking down into her admiring eyes as I readied myself for the final act which would truly seal our fates together for eternity.

As moaned as one as I entered her, and she gasped and shuddered as I pressed my thick length against the last vestige of her girlish self. I dipped my head to kiss her, allowing her to taste herself upon my thick lips, then lifted my head to gaze upon her again as her small hands reached for my cheeks, caressing me with the care and the desire which had been simmering within her for so, so long.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I know," she replied just as quietly.

A heartbeat later, her cry of pain pierced the twilight. It was the only time I had ever hurt her, and as she clutched me tightly, I knew that she was not hurt by the pain, not in an emotional sense.

When at last she was ready, I began to move anew within her. Together, we watched as my dark length slid into her pale body. Suddenly, as the moonlight began to filter through the clouds and the leaves overhead, I was quite aware of the visual contrast between us: her pale hands upon my dark arms, my black body penetrating her crystalline form. If anyone had happened to come upon us at that time, they may well have thought that I was raping her, such was the cultural perception -- at least, such was the cultural perception in our former hometown.

But this definitely was not rape. She was not fighting me, nor was she pleading for the act to end. She instead held me, her small hands gripping my back, my sides, my arms, my waist, my ass. The lone tear she had shed at her piercing had disappeared, and her cry of pain was long forgotten as the sounds of impending release rose to my ears.

"I love you!" she cried, and then the climax I wished for her consumed her, and I quickly succumbed to her pleasure, inseminating her with my white-hot love, filling her as I growled loudly through gritted teeth, probably seeming like a monster as she looked up at my in amazement, her body continuing to spasm and twitch in the aftermath of her bliss.

...and as we lay in each other's arms upon the cool grass, as our combined passion seeped from her body, the fear which had stalked us for four long days were banished from our loving embrace.