Black America - The Complete Collection: Interracial Cuckold Erotica by Jewel Geffen

Author:Jewel Geffen [Geffen, Jewel]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-06-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

I backed up a few paces wanting to call out for help. Surely Lord Byron would hear me? But, then again he might not; I'd come some distance from where I had seen him, and there was no guarantee that he would still be there.

Anyway, I didn't want to escalate the situation. There was no reason to assume that this man had any ill intentions towards me, after all.

The expression on his face seemed to say otherwise, however.

“Good day,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and calm. We were both slaves, surely he wouldn't have any reason to feel badly towards me. “How do you do?”

“Eh,” he grunted, “Doing better than you, whore. You should be ashamed, spreading your legs for that Negro bastard...”

Uh oh.

I turned away at once, my heart beating fast as I started walking, not looking back. I could hear his heavy footfalls coming after me. It was alright, I told myself, he was in chastity, after all – whatever that meant – he wasn't going to be able to force himself on me.

Of course, he could still strangle me or cut my throat.

I couldn't help it, I broke into a run.

He followed, suddenly dashing towards me. I felt his heavy hand fall on my shoulder, grabbing me and jerking me back, I gave a yelp.

His stinking breath came on the back of my neck as he growled. “I'm going to teach you a lesson, whore, about a white woman's proper place.”

“What the hell is going on here!? Get your fucking hands off her!”

I whirled around. That voice... it didn't sound like anyone else around here. Something about it struck my modern ears as somehow familiar. It couldn't be!

A tall and strong black man grabbed hold of Patrick and ripped him away from me, flinging him to the dirt. “Touch her again and I'll make you regret it, buddy.”

It was Aaron Rawling.

Patrick snarled wordlessly up at him, then scrabbled to his feet and lumbered heavily away.

I sat there in a daze, staring at the other man. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. It seemed impossible, someone from my own time, my own world. He was dressed the same as the other men around here, but there was something about him that made him stand out from them, that marked him as not belonging for some ineffable reason. We were others, and we always would be.

“I thought it was you,” I said, “that day in the square, calling my name... That was you, wasn't it?”

He smiled, nodding slowly. “It was me. And I was just as surprised as you, believe me. You were the last person I expected to see up there, that's for sure.”

“It was the last place I ever expected to be.”

“So,” he said, his hands in his pockets. “How have you been?”

I burst out laughing, and I sat down on the path, overcome with giggles. After a moment, he snorted, then chuckled, and then we were both laughing, laughing until we were breathless with giddy amusement.

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