The sun was low, but still hours from setting. Michonne rested on the porch chaise, enjoying the ocean view from the bed and breakfast she was staying in. She smiled at people who passed by, her sarong around her shoulders, her bronze skin in sharp contrast with the white 2-piece bathing suit. She loved her life.

Rick Grimes had cancelled their late dinner which, she reasoned, was probably for the best. This was a business trip for him even though they had managed to meet everyday for lunch since they met. "You're playing with fire, girl." She said to herself. She knew that she was attracted to him from the moment she saw those blue eyes. A divorced woman acting like a giggling schoolgirl over a very married man. It's complicated, he said and with only three vacation days left, she was going to make the most of it. It's not like she was ever going to see him again - she lived in New York City and he lived in King County, Georgia. She needed to feel wanted, connected, better. She loved to see men's faces gaze upon her body, but walking the shore alone seemed pathetic. Shopping meant that she would have to cover more skin, and frankly she didn't feel like wearing much at the moment.

His warm hand touched her shoulder, startling her a little.

"Hey." She whispered as he sat opposite of her.

She wanted him as much as she wanted her but was there any possible way of having him and not be wrong? The question she could not deny asking herself. He was married, "separated and soon to be divorced" he re-iterated, but it was still taboo. She told her friends she was not going to have an affair, she knew herself better than that. But this was not about lust. She was certain it could not be lust - the only lust she has ever known was hot, and prickly, and waned with orgasm. This desire for him was like nothing else. Anger, endearment, confusion and dismissal ran course through her mind. The only power she to fight her desire for him was fear - the fear of married man refusing her after pursuing her. She did not know his feelings and the possibility of rejection upset her. With this fear, she could restrain herself from ravishing him.

The unspoken attraction pulled them together. This attraction also burned her: her conscience, love life and faith. There was the safety in the quiet struggle... like she could be free to feel exactly what she wanted to feel without anyone knowing. Perhaps it was too late to ask whether she should have allowed the mental compromise. For now, she did not have the desire to struggle against her feelings for him.

"Hey." He responded.

"Busy day?" She asked and he sighed, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. Before tonight, she tried to content herself with pleasure of touching him - enjoying the sensation of the forbidden fruit without tasting it. Their departure day was soon and it made her more anxious about returning home, leaving this place, leaving him.

"Frustratin' day." He paused before focusing on her once more. "Come sit with me."

Michonne didn't hesitate. As the heat from his body wrapped around her, she relished into the beauty of the moment. They came to this moment though hours of talking, enjoying each other company. He was connected to her, and even if today was their last day, she was his, and he was hers. The sweetness of what was happening filled the painful emptiness that into which he fit perfectly. Her fear faded and, for one pure moment, she knew what is it like to love - it was the desire to fill and complete the one who has made you whole.

Rick eyes showed no evidence of the battle that confused her. The fragrance of gentle flowers and the sound of the surf set a seductive scene. He could not blame her, the moment was right for what was to become of them. Before this night, he felt the presence of a hesitation so heavy that he was sure she did not want to cross the line and go too far. But now, with so days left, he would have he wanted.

Michonne wanted to spend her life kissing him. Warm waves of passion bathed her eyes, breasts, hands, back, and her very centre. She could not recall ever having a dream that made her feel like this. She gave herself up to the moments as they fell like the rain, in concert with each other, swelling like a string quartet. She heard music without the power of instruments.

They created the dark and silent place were the senses are more aware. Each touching, tasting, and taking in the scent of their lover was making the memories that would have to last their life apart. Whenever he was with her, especially in this place filled with only the liquid sounds of two lovers in their first embrace, he was free. The newness of her sent strong currents of energy through him, his mind fought against the urgency of his body. The anticipation was delicious. Right now, he desperately wanted just her. Only twice when she seem to move away a bit did his mind threaten to shame him back to the reality of the situation. He was technically still married. But each time, he would resume the probe of her mouth with his tongue, stroking the thin lycra that covered her breasts in the open. He could remember when he was in high school. It was a time that kissing was a way to distract his girl from the awkward struggle of undoing the hooks. Then, in college, he began to realize the power the kiss had over a young lady's objections. He fell in love with the look of the woman in his arms, weakened and melting after he kissed her. Now, he was melting. He did not mean to be this open to her, to trust her like this. But it felt too good, giving so much, so openly to her. He did not want to hold back. At that, his mind silenced and he kissed her deeply wrapping his arms around her, keeping her still just enough.

His desire grew to caused him pain in the position that he was in, twisted and awkwardly seated. The mouths hotly played together as he laid himself along beside her, stretching out his legs and then fitting her chest and mouth on top his own. Her breaths became soft pants. His hands guided her hips to meet his. On top of him, she swayed and rocked instinctively, almost imperceptibly - like her hips were riding little waves.

Her mind toggled between wanting to remain in this kiss and passing the point of no return. She thought that if she could keep her bottoms on and remember that they were outside, that there would be less to recover from. That they might be able to salvage their friendship and save themselves from public shame and embarrassment. They could stop here; kissing without sex would not be like having an affair. She like what they were, but what would become of them when they were home again and with their family and friends? His hands were on her buttocks, pressing and smoothing the skin, spreading and cupping them. Warm glistening moisture from her inner lips moistened her bikini bottoms. If they were indoors, she would have taken them off by now. But they were not and she had to remind him of that.

"Rick." She breathed. He tried to kiss her again, but she stopped him. "We're outside."

"Mhm." He nodded, his eyes still closed, his lips searching hers.

"Maybe we should go inside... Away from prying eyes?"

"Sure." He said, but he was in no rush. Instead, he adjusted himself slightly and maneuvered his right hand between them, down her soft black curls, to touch her clitoris. When she moaned his lips curving slightly in amusement at her innocent confusion and complacent submission. The sun had set since he walked onto her porch. The ocean air carried the scent of her, waving soft whiffs under his nose. No one was coming outside. Without thought, he tasted the wet fingers. Carried by the wanting, he moved his hands down her clothed body until he reached the sides of her bottoms. She slid lifted herself up to impede the removal and he was all too complying. His hands quickly covered her ass - she had the smoothest of her skin and he knew that he was a dead man walking. Michonne ground herself against Rick, she could feel his member standing to attention. He wanted her too. He stroked the line from her ass to her centre. One long thick finger disappeared within her anal walls - she was melting all over again.

"You belong to me." He harshly whispered as he fingered her asshole. "Every hole belongs to me."

His sun kissed white flesh made beautiful contrast to her brown skin. Her chest heaved into his as she breathed. Her hands rubbed at the muscles of his backside, his cock was strained and taut. This time, the moan came from him. There was a moment of silent stillness, full of peace. He left the warmth of his kiss on her lips to move down her body. He took the white-topped brown nipple into his mouth. The feel of her breast in his mouth made her shiver. It was an eternity of caressing - the full mounds with his hands and face.

"Rick please." She moaned. She no longer cared where they were, she needed him.

"Yes?" He chuckled. His finger was still in her ass and his tongue was making its way back to her nipples.

"I need you."

"I know, baby."

Then, in one swift motion, he lifted her and carried her to the love seat at the edge of the porch. He laid her down ever so sweetly before once again taking mouthful of her breasts. Michonne moaned again and pulled Rick down to him.

"Now please. Please." She begged.

He and pressed his stiff flesh past the moist petals into the pink silky glove. His face, hands, legs worked to stimulate the rest of her body, forcing his memory into her soul. Stormy sea - wet and powerful, relentless and awesome. The calm water yielded to the waves again building on the horizon. Her arms and legs hugged him as they created a new tide of heat and friction. The sex and feel of someone new, someone who had an intimate awareness of her even when her clothes were on, made her giddy. She was drowning in the waves of pleasure, one sewing into another until she felt the surge in her fingertips. Her energy flushed over her in pulsing waves joining and intensifying his own. The power of his release flowed from his head, spine from the base of his cock and erupted within her - the rhythmic concentric wave of her sweet muscles massaging his throbbing cock. Everything within him, set free.

The morning was hours away. The warm Mexican air carried the sounds of the surf and footsteps on the wet sand. The art of the vanilla and mocha bodies adorn the lounge chair. The nude lovers lay still.

"I hope I wasn't too loud." She laughed to break the ice.

His arms curled protectively around her. "Who cares?"

The moments passed with her deep sighs and peaceful stillness. The quiet movements became more frequent, and soon she was sitting beside him, he could see the blue light of the moon shining on her bare chest. He became aroused and a little annoyed knowing that moonlight lovers could now see them. He reached for her but she just smiled and held her place. For only a moment was she standing, in full view.

"Who cares?" She repeated as she bent down between his legs and kissed his soft member. She could take all of him in this state. She let the heat of her mouth and the full blanket of her tongue stir the flesh to life. Once attentive, she began to suck with little effort, gently arousing him. Her mouth worked him with full long draws. He was content, eyes closed with his hand stroking her hair and cheeks. With each stroke up, her mouth became more resistant, every so often pressing the tip of her tongue in the grove where the shaft and the head triangulate. All the while, her hands manipulate his testicles, her fingers dancing in his hair, rasping her nails in the long wavy strands. She enjoyed the pleasure she gave him. The salty-sweet mix of their sex lingered on him - the taste of them thrilled her. The smooth glands of his head was nearly too much to bear as it pressed into the soft palate, the pressure made her instinctively swallow. Her miniature vacuum made his cock throb and twitch in her mouth. Sweet drops of clear foretaste preceded the final surge of blood into his engorged member. He loved each delectable sensation given by such a strong willed woman tamed between his legs.

She knew she would never grow tired of sucking his dick. She eagerly shared the flavour with him, kissing him all the while bringing her labia above his hips. She moved her smooth flesh on his swollen cock, stroking and torturing him. His hands grasped the curve of her hips and brought them forward. Rick's soft lips trailed down her chest while she rode him.

"Fuck, Michonne!" He exclaimed, the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

He was in ecstasy but he would soon have to stop her and fuck her at his own rate. With a low groan he took hold of her. He brought her hips down as he thrust himself deeper within her; her breasts shook at the roughness of his movements. Careless touches and licks were passed between them. This fevered pitched sung out - her large breasts caressing him, crushing him when her arms wrapped around his head - firm wet thigh working against one another; loud sound kisses on his chest and face.

She was so close, each ring of her sweet clit vibrated and shook, tugging at his rigid cock. He however, was not ready to slow. He alternated between bucking and making little circles with his hips slightly off the seat - his cock rubbed new delightful sensations against her rippling walls. Her back muscles trembled and relaxed. She muffled her sigh with a mouthful of his hickey-ed shoulder. The few beach dwellers that made up their audience began to turn and leave the direct view of the lovers on the veranda. She lay with her head at his chest, still enjoying the pleasurable little waves of orgasm. With a light peck and a gesture, he motioned for her to go inside. He was no longer keen on sharing her with anyone else.

The two quietly entered the luxurious bed and breakfast and quickly made their way to Rick's room. She nearly got to the front door when his hands seized her.

"It's locked." His hand went up her spine from her curvy bottom, and cupped her breast.

"Are you gonna unlock it?" He whispered.

"Thinking about it."

"Rick!" He nearly yelled when he pinched the dark brown bud. He kissed her shoulder and opened the door. "You fucking liar." She laughed.

He pushed her into the room and walked about as if she had been here before. He watched her peruse across the room, her full pouty lips, crimson from the sex, were pursed. All the bed and breakfast rooms were similar but Michonne still found herself looking for something that distinguished her room from his.

His hand gently stroked his penis while he watched her lithe body move about. "Come here." He demanded. She turned around and didn't move.

"No, I wanna watch you touch yourself." Rick smirked and continued his ministrations, never taking his eyes off her. Michonne sauntered towards him - his movements slowed. "I want you to cum inside me."

She led them to his bed and laid down. Rick hovered towards her, his hand never letting go of his cock. He wanted to paint her body with his cum. Michonne starting touching herself. "Are you gonna make me wait, Rick?"

He felt the familiar ache that he was looking for. He dropped his body on top of hers and entered her. Their rhythm was perfect. Beads of sweat ran down his face and back. The spanking pats of his hips against hers spurred him on. He struggled to watch his cock flesh piston into her - she returned every thrust he gave. His arms stretched to sloppily fondle her fleshy rosebud, he was so close.

Michonne wrapped her legs around his waist. She tightened her grip around his shaft, he wasn't going anywhere. Rick tried to hold off but his efforts were futile. He came inside her and she peppered his face with kisses. He let his full weight rest on her atop her, their legs dangled haphazardly off the side.

. . .

Rick woke at the touch of a warm cloth around his cock. He tried to continue to sleep, but found himself looking in awe at this woman bathing him. "What am I going to do with you?"

She smiled. "More of the same, I guess." It was not long before her brown frame warmed his skin to slumber until mid-day.

If he wanted to keep this secret, he would have to work hard to hide the dark red mark on his shoulder. He had been through similar snares before, and figured that his ex-wife would be oblivious to the little signs of indiscretions. But then again, he didn't care. They hadn't used a condom - they were both putting each other at risk. He looked at the clock, 12:28pm, damn. He should really be getting up and getting some work done.

Michonne waltzed into his bedroom and handed him a glass of juice. "Good morning, or afternoon..." His arms instinctively reach for her and pull her down on his knees as he sits. His lips press on hers. Their tongues work like two horny teenagers while his hands invade the narrow space between her bra and skin. Her silent protest fades quickly and soon she removes her top to give him access. She is much more vocal than she was last night, she let go of more of her inhibitions.

"Good girl." He says.

The effects of his oral talents are felt within both of them. Soon she is between his legs, her hips grinding pressing against his bulging crotch. Her hands work at his pants, and, once again, he delights in the feel of her face on his waking cock. This time she works efficiently. Her pointed tongue dances on his scrotum, licking hot wetness on the thick tubule passage found under them. Her left hand pumping his large member, bringing the slack fold over the rim of its head. He did not need to be worked from flaccid, he woke up nearly ready for her. He was hard enough to enter her, and this time, he was intent on wearing her out for a while. They would deal with everything later.