Interracial

Hello love, I hope you're happy and well-how old is your baby and what is baby's name?' and he walked around the counter to see-then Muhammad beamed exultantly; the tiny little baby, he looked no more than a month old, was clearly Arabic and contrasted triumphantly with his white mother, the baby had smooth olive-skin, only a degree or two lighter than Muhammad and blue eyes and he already had thick curly brown hair. She recognised the joy her baby provoked; though it embarrassed her and caused her to blush their delight that she, a pretty white woman had bred a baby fanned the flames of her sexuality. She pretended to look at the magazines on the wall, 'he is four weeks old-he's called Ashley'.

Smiling at the baby, while Muhammad would never dream of taking another guy's woman, he was envious that it hadn't been him who had fucked and impregnated this tall, magnificent, delicious brunette.

Then he realized what she had said; Ashley, a Western name, but his intelligent, searching eyes fixed upon the gold Christian cross around her neck. Then stretched to look at her delectably shaped bottom flaunted by a short, clinging skirt and he thought it the most delightful he had ever seen. She looked at him and self-consciously fingered her cross necklace understanding mohammad unspoken question. Though she assumed that the shopkeeper was probably married too, old enough to be her father and though one married Arabic guy had already used and then dispensed with her, if the hotel owner wanted to have her, she feared that wouldn't be able to deny him anything.

She decided that she had to chat to him however; she needed Arabic friends, her baby boy was always going to spark interest in them.

Muhhamad wondered if her bush between her legs was olive coloured too.