This warm Caribbean soil tricking my mind.

He forced my legs apart. There was a pause. I sensed him assessing me, analysing me, savouring each second of his triumph. My whole body was numb, quivering in fear and apprehension. Was this dream or nightmare? Would the veils of unreality fall apart and I wake again to a rainy night in England and the shattered icons of my self-belief? Then I felt his hand caressing my buttocks, worming into the cleavage; felt his finger probing at my anus, heard him give a small, self-satisfied grunt; felt the shadow of his body once again fall across mine, and the fierce, intractable rod of his passions come pressing like a sword between my buttocks and into my anus. I squirmed. I gasped, and gave a stifled scream, biting the grass, my belly heaving with a despair that ached inside me like death. Then he fell upon my back, forcing his hands underneath my body, between soil and flesh, one hand vigorously squeezing my genitals, the other, his nubbly fingers like talons, twisting into my belly. Then my resistance dissolved, as splaying my legs further apart, he thrust savagely into me. I screamed - a confused, inarticulate scream that rattled in my throat, as I felt his manhood inside me, humiliating me, destroying me. My cheeks were wet with tears; the thin dribble of saliva slicked down my chin. I was conscious of the remorseless power of his repeated thrusts, the quivering gyrations as he skewered my body beneath him in a wild primeval ecstasy. The thrusts accelerated. Gasping and gulping for air, he climaxed, his prick quivering frenziedly, unleashing the hot savage spunk into my ass. With a final desperate groan, he slumped exhausted across me. His body was soaked with sweat and heaving from the exertion. There was silence. But in the stillness my tears soaked into that small warm patch of Caribbean soil that now contained the memory of all my despair and all my humiliation.

I lay sobbing in the grass beneath him, until, recovering, he rolled off me. He slapped me on the buttocks, then turned me over again. My prick was still hard and unsatisfied. His lips twisted sarcastically. He seized my prick at the root and began slapping it against my abdomen. Slap-slap-slap. Resounding around the clearing.

Then he lowered himself down to my groin, licking my balls, his tongue moist, darting and dangerous like a snake's. He sucked my balls into his mouth, savouring them like some sacred fruit, clenching his teeth around the scrotum. I flinched. Gasped. Then he released his grip, let my balls slide out, and ran his tongue along my shaft, finally enclosing it in his mouth.

I lay back, my eyes flickering, taking in confused images of leaves and skies and darkness. He began sucking, his tongue curling round the tumescent head, darting and snaking round the folds of skin, drawing the shaft irretrievably deeper into his mouth, till it seemed, in a haze of desire and despair, that I was being dissolved and absorbed within his throat. In some dim distant other-part of me, I felt his fingger probing. Probing my anus. Darting in. Twisting inside. I squirmed and cried out. Gripped the grass in a paroxysm of bewilderment, my nails tearing pathetically at the soil, my back arching, my belly undulating. Hungrily, his lips and tongue worked at my cock, soaking it in saliva. As if from miles away, I heard him humming with pleasure. I clawed now at his hair, at his scalp, in a distracted frenzy. A series of chaotic groans rose from somewhere deep inside me and mingled with the broken animal sounds of his own pleasure. My back arched again, in a rage of anguish and ecstasy. My body shivered in delirium. The warm, irrestible tide of spunk pulsed in tiny waves through my penis. The spasms subsided. I relaxed, panting with exhaustion and bewilderment, conscious that he, too, was satisfied and easing off. He sucked lethargically at the last drops of semen that came whispering from my cock.

My head was swimming, confused with vague sensations of pleasure and shame. My body was damp with exertion, my chest still heaving slowly, my belly shuddering as I drew in deep drafts of air. I closed my eyes again and exhaustion overcame me like a flood. I was conscious of him rising and stretching. I half-opened my eyes and watched his limbre, muscular movements as he strolled down to the stream to bathe. I closed my eyes again and drifted off onto the periphery of sleep. He returned, and my eyes opened momentarily to glimpse his sturdy body glistening with sunlight and water. He sat down beside me and began caressing my belly, skimming the soft vulnerable flesh between the button and the damp fringe of my bush. I drifted once again into troubled fantasies of darkness and light. Images of Mandy peopled my dreams. In a soft haze I embraced her body, intoxicated by the perfume of her flesh. I caressed her supple breasts and stroked her belly. But as I prepared to mount her, so the fierce, dark shadow of the fisherman fell upon us. He wrenched me off her and flung me to the ground. Then, with his prick curving like a scimitar, he lowered himself upon her welcoming body.

"How I catch de fish. In de pools," he said hoarsely. "In de darkness me lean over de rock. Then me dip de hand so gentle into de water, and stroke de fish belly. Like so, man."

He paused, his fingers making coaxing seductions on my belly.

"Den like de lightning I take de grab!"

And with that savage, cruel maleness of his, he seized my prick and balls and squezed them triumphantly in his hand. I yelped. He laughed. Then shook them teasingly, measuring my gasps. He smiled, and released me, and once again began coaxing my abdomen with his tough, gravelly fingers, until I drifted off finally, a captive, into a fitful doze.

I lay naked with Mandy. The moonlight slid into the bedroom and lay like milk upon our bodies. We kissed and I ran my fingers down her waist and thighs. Desire licked at my groin in a thousand tiny flames. I brushed her lips with mine and kissed her eyes and nestled down into the dark nest of hair around her ear.

"Do you ever have fantasies?" I whispered.

"Fantasies?"

"Mm."

"Yes, of course."

I raised my head slightly and began puckering kisses on her lips.

"Tell me one. Tell me your favourite fantasy," I said, coaxing open her mouth, and whispering to her with dry, brittle urgency.

"They're secret," she said softly.

"No, not secret. Fantasies are better enjoyed if shared. Tell me. Please. I want to know."

"I don't know." She paused. "They're kind of private."

"Tell me. I want to be aroused."

She giggled. "Aren't you aroused already?"

"Not enough," I said.

"OK," she said. "If you want."

She hesitated, and stared up at the ceiling, biting her lip, playing for time.

"Let me see.....I think this is my favourite."

Again she paused, and turned her head slightly towards me, her eyes wide and coquettish.

"I'm on a desert island. It's a small island in somewhere like the South Seas. I've driven a small motor-boat over there from the main island. This small island is only a dot on the horizon, so nobody really knows about it. Because it's deserted, I strip off all my clothes and wander along the beach in the nude. It's quiet and peaceful. Beautiful. There are no flies, no mosquitoes - only beautiful, brightly-coloured fish swimming in the lagoon and exotic birds fluttering around in the jungle behind me. No sharks, no snakes. I spend hours there swimming and sunbathing. Exploring. Eating fruit. Collecting shells. Girl things. I don't feel lonely. It's great. Then as I go strolling among the palms, I suddenly come face to face with a man." She paused, her tongue licking her upper lip. "A black man. Tall and muscular." She giggled, her eyes bright in the moonlight. "And very, very naked. Which is just as well because I am too. Of course, I'm also very frightened. There is no way I can resist him. He's strong and powerful and there's no one else for miles. I'm completely at his mercy. And he has such a big - well!" She glanced meaningfully at my prick. "Really big. Anyway, he doesn't waste time, and he forces himself upon me. Of course, I let out a few screams for appearances' sake, but I hold him close all the same."

She paused, letting the air slowly out of her body in a soft, wistful sigh.

"And that's what he does to me. All day. All night. With a bit of time taken off for swimming in the lagoon, and strolling through the jungle, and sleeping on the sand."

She turned her head again and looked into my eyes. "You like it?" she said. "My fantasy?"

I kissed her lips, felt the quiver of desire dart through me at their moist, sensual touch. "Yes," I whispered. "I like it."

"Now tell me yours."

My heart was palpitating; my pulse quickened. I felt the cold fist of excitement twist inside my belly.

She was still looking at me. Interrogatively. Her curiosity mounting.

"Tell me your fantasy."

I sighed and lay back on the bed beside her.

"It's difficult," I said, bringing my hand over my forehead, shielding my nervousness. "Maybe you won't like it."

"And maybe I will," she said, turning onto her side, and looking teasingly into my face. "Tell me."

There was silence. I looked at the ceiling. The grey ceiling. Searching for shadows. Her words were ringing in my mind like a funeral bell: "Tell me. Tell me. Tell me."

"I like to imagine I'm a slave," I began. In Roman times. My mistress - actually it's you - is very beautiful, but very bored, and always looking out for new and exciting entertainments. She's also got an eye for men, and has many casual affairs with rich young patricians from the neighbouring estates."

"That's me!" she said, laughing. "Randy Mandy in Roman times!"

"Anyway, one day she - you - have this new idea. You've always been one for giving the good-looking male slaves the glad eye, and you can't help wondering what it would be like making love to a slave. Someone you could dominate completely. So you devise this pretext and one day you take the two best-looking slaves - me and another - maybe the same tall, tough guy you'd met on a tropical island in another era - down to a clearing in the forest where you have this temple. You make your offerings, and then, suddenly, you order us to strip naked. We're both very surprised, and hesitate, but you get angry. You crack a whip at us and threaten us with torture and death if we don't obey. Of course, this time we do as we're told and soon we're standing in front of you. Nude. Despite our nervousness we both have erections, and you relish teasing us with comparisons."

"Mmmm!"" she sighed. "I like this fantasy!"

"Then you say you'll make love to one of us. But which one?"

"Do I have a tape-measure handy?"

"I don't think so," I said, considering. "Anyway, you laugh and make further teasing glances at our sex. You then withdraw into the temple and return moments later with a spear. You lay it on the ground. 'There's only one spear,' you say flirtatiously. 'And only one of me. You'll have to fight for us, won't you? The winner gets the girl; the loser gets the spear ....in the -' You laugh mockingly. 'It's a fight to the death, you know.'

And that's what we do. Fight in the nude. Fight to the death. But my opponent is stronger than me. Eventually he overpowers me. I lie on my back, defenceless, and he looms over me, jabbing the air with the spear. Triumphantly. He looks across to you. You smile and touch your sex, then with tantalizing slowness turn your thumb downwards. I scream, and he plunges the spear into my body, and leaves it there, quivering."

"Where?" she whispered, running her varnished nails down my body. "Where do you get it?"

I hesitated, my head swooning, my prick throbbing with passion.

"In the belly," I sighed.

"Very nice," she murmured. "Very sexy!"

I gazed into her eyes, her captive, her slave. I was overwhelmed by love for her and despair. There was a strange cruelty in her that intoxicated me. My tripes palpitated with some terrifying pleasure.

"Anyway, as I lie on the ground, my blood seeping into the soil, so you disrobe and stand there nude. He pulls you down and takes you, and the groans of your pleasure mingle with the groans of my dying."

She gazed silently, seriously, into my eyes.

"That's weird," she said.

"Isn't it?" I said, making a small, ironic laugh.

"And so we don't get to enjoy each other in your fantasy?"

"I guess not."

She ran her finger up and down my belly, caressing my prick, teasing my navel.

"There's just one thing I'm curious about," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"When you get it in the guts....."

"Mm?"

"Do you come at the same time?"

I didn't answer. I drew her downwards, sliding my leg over her, so that my prick was hot and urgent, squeezing into her groin. A panic of desire flooded through me. Clumsily I covered her, in a desperate, confused craving, working my prick against her belly, feeling myself at a sudden loss. A sudden loss. A sudden, sudden, terrifying loss.

Sunlight was filtering through the foliage. It was dancing on my skin. An uneasy presentiment of danger weighed heavily in my stomach like a stone. I shook off the scales of fitful sleep, and tried raising my arms. But something was tugging my wrists, holding me fast. With a twinge of alarm I jerked my head from side to side. My wrists were fastened with thongs to a pair of stakes forced into the ground. I gasped, my stomach lurching with fear. I raised my head and looked around for the fisherman. I saw him across the clearing. He was staring at me. He was still naked. He picked up a log and brought it over. He bent down beside me, and propped my head against the log. Now, from gazing up into the leaf-freckled sky, I could look down the length of my body.

"Now betta-see," he said.

Then he returned to the other side of the glade and crouched down. He came back a moment later, strolling lackadaisically towards me, a fierce, white grin etched on his face, his hands clasped behind his back, his genitals thick, bushy and arrogant. A thin wave of nausea rippled upwards from my stomach. I tugged again at the thongs and felt the crude knots bite into my flesh. My breath was quick and tremulous; my bladder and my bowels loose with fear.

"What are you going to do to me?" I said timidly, the words like dust in my throat.

He didn't answer, but crouched down in front of me, forcing my legs apart. Then he drew his hands from behind his back. I gave a shrill gasp of terror as I saw the knife in his left hand, gleaming wickedly in the dappled sunlight. My body went numb, my legs began shaking, the cold snake of fear coiling inside my belly. I was conscious of my heartbeat racing and the itch of terror consuming my sex. He smiled at me malevolently, relishing my fear. With his right hand he grasped my cold, shrinking prick and began to massage it, pumping it up and down, varying the stroke, sliding the fold of skin over the head, till, despite my terror, a grim surge of pleasure pulsed through the shaft. He laughed triumphantly, as it stiffened and lengthened in his grip. He bent down and kissed it, his tongue teasing at the slit.

"Good, huh?"

He raised himself to a crouch. Still fondling my cock, he glanced at the long, sharp blade he held in his other hand. He offered me a lewd, mischievous smile and lowered the knife till the point hovered over my belly button. He sniggered. Dipped it into the black bud of my flesh. Then traced it down the curve of my abdomen to just above the bush. I stared in horror at the blade, gleaming silver in the sunlight. Gently he pressed it in. Pricked the skin. I shrieked with the sudden, sharp pain. Watched, horrified, as a thin trickle of red blood pooled around the tip.

"Now de pleasure really come!" he sneered. "Gonna give you nice red cunt in you belly. Just like you girl. You hear dat, white boy? I gonna fuck you guts!!"

The End