Marriage With Miranda

Now more than ever, Miranda was determined not to lose Martin. She was unable to stop thinking about him, unable to imagine life without him. She found herself getting nervous whenever he would go on trips to clients, fearful that that a plane crash or a terrorist incident would take her away from him; she tried to limit her own travel as much as possible, for fear that she would never see him again in this life. She was determined to spend as much time with him as possible, at one point even jokingly concluding her e-mails with, "Your clingy girlfriend, Miranda."

She loved being his girlfriend, loved being in bed with him. She became a more accommodating lover, overcoming whatever hesitation she had about anal sex to eagerly yield her asshole to him. Yet she wanted something more. She wanted to become Mrs. Miranda Kelly-Roberts.

Miranda became obsessed with the idea of marriage, hinting at the idea in their chats with Martin. He told her that he didn't often think about what it would be like to be married: after all, he stated, "Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell have a good thing going, don't they?" He always smiled when he said that line.

Miranda believed that Martin was just skittish about whether they could make a marriage last, whether such an uncommon union could prevail throughout the decades. She believed it could. She believed love would keep them together.

One night, after a lengthy lovemaking session, as Martin slept, Miranda quietly measured the finger on his left hand.

--

In mid-October, as they walked through Central Park, Miranda pulled Martin aside.

"I have to ask you something."

Martin was stunned by her radiance. Her red hair perfectly complemented the fall leaves, her ivory skin a beautiful contrast to her dark blue jacket and sweater.

Miranda was nervous. She didn't want to stammer in front of this gorgeous black man. She touched the sleeve of his blue coat, looked at his beautiful face, and took a deep breath.

"Martin..."

"Yes..."

"You know that I love you, and..."

She stopped in nervous hesitation, then gripped his forearm. Martin was stunned by the sight of her pale knuckles clenched to his limb.

"Martin, you don't know this, but I thank God every day that he brought me to America to meet you!"

Martin's heart stopped. He knew Miranda was a casual Catholic, but she mentioned God about as much as he did, which was never, orgasms notwithstanding. What was going on?

"Martin, I love you with every beat of my heart, and I want to live with you forever. And so I have a question to ask you..."

She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small blue box, opening it to reveal a golden ring.

She dropped to one knee.

"Martin Roberts...Mr. Roberts...will you marry me?" She began crying, as if fearing a negative answer. "Will you have me as your wife?"

Martin certainly wasn't expecting this. But there was only one answer on his mind.

"Hell yes! Absolutely!"

Miranda jumped into the air, and the two embraced and kissed.

--

Miranda insisted upon a low-key wedding. She recalled the family members who spent big money on lavish weddings, only to get divorced in less than five years. She was determined not to have that happen. She wanted a causal wedding, with just a few friends around, with dinner and drinks and a small cake. Nothing fancy.

Martin agreed. He was still a bit nervous, however. Like Miranda, his parents were dead now, but he still had family in New York. Would they want to attend? Would they accept the fact that he wanted to marry a white woman, and a foreign one at that? And what about Miranda's family in Perth? Would they fly over here to attend? What if they didn't want her to marry a black American man?

Over the course of several weeks, Martin and Miranda made plans to visit Martin's relatives in New York, as well as Miranda's relatives in Perth. The meetings were awkward, to say the least--Martin's cousin Harold, an NYPD cop like Martin's late dad, asked Miranda if she was marrying Martin just to get a green card, while Miranda's sister Miriam kept on asking probing questions about their sex life--but thankfully, no one specifically stated that they disapproved of the idea of the couple getting married. Not one person in their respective families indicated interest in attending the wedding, however.

Martin and Miranda weren't really bothered. Very few people, relatives or not, could understand the magic they had together.

Martin knew some of the best immigration attorneys in New York, so the couple were able to navigate the tricky terrain of preparing to marry someone from another country. Yet there was a potentially more difficult road that Miranda wanted to journey on with Martin.

--

Occasionally, Miranda brought up the idea of possibly having children once the wedding took place. Martin was less than enthusiastic about the idea.

"Having kids is so expensive," he asserted. "I would want to put them in the best schools, and the best schools are the priciest!"

"I know, but..."

"And what about college? It took me years to make a dent in my debt!"

"Good point, but..."

"And, well..."

Martin didn't know how to explain to Miranda that he was nervous about their children confronting bigotry in the U.S., so he came up with a euphemism.

"We'd probably have to raise them in Australia. Not that I'd mind moving, but wouldn't you miss America?"

Miranda indeed understood what Martin meant, but she held fast to her idealism. She believed that things would get better in the U.S., and that they could not be governed by their fears.

They never fought over this, but Martin made it clear that he wasn't interested in having children. "It was rough for me growing up," he told her. "Very rough. I think it would be even rougher for our kids, no?"

Miranda understood his point, but she also understood that he might change his mind under the right circumstances...

--

As the wedding day approached, Miranda began to have ever more vivid fantasies of conceiving a child with Martin. She dreamed of what it would be like to have Martin's enormous black cock enter her willing white pussy, pumping in and out of her until his strong seed filled her up. She wanted to feel his semen move through his cock-head right into her body, and commence the process of creating a little one. She wanted to kiss him and hold him at the exact moment his jizz moved into her, the perfect formation of two becoming one.

It occurred to her that this was fated to happen, that destiny had prepared her to be the wife of a gorgeous black man and the mother of cute mixed children. She remembered the childhood crushes she had developed on the black jazz artists on the covers of her dad's CDs, the times she played with herself as a teenager to the photos of naked chocolate men on the Internet. She wanted to connect to Martin body and soul, to physically tie their destinies together, to link her proud Irish/English/Scottish heritage to his bold black heritage, to sew the threads of America and Australia together.

It made her hot, the thought of a black American cock penetrating her white Australian pussy and leaving his warm cum as a gift. It made her laugh, the idea of her black baby coming into her nine months before a black baby came out of her. It made her smile, the notion of her naturally tanned child being able to play outdoors in the sun, something she could never do in Perth due to her paleness.

All she had to do was to figure out a way to get him to fuck her without a condom on. She would become pregnant, and tell Martin that although she wasn't the most devout person in the world, she was still Catholic, and that the idea of terminating the pregnancy would be out of the question. This would not be manipulation, she reasoned. He can be a good father. He can be a great father. And, above all, I want more than anything in this world to be the mother of his children.

--

On a Saturday night in June, in the large Manhattan condo they now shared, with work colleagues from both firms in attendance, Martin Roberts and Miranda Kelly exchanged vows and rings in front of a justice of the peace. Miranda felt blessed to be marrying this lovely man, his smooth cocoa skin covered by a black suit, crisp white shirt and blue tie. Martin was enthralled by the sight of his bride, whose long red hair fell over the back of a dress that was almost indistinguishable from her alabaster skin.

When the justice told Martin he could kiss his bride, he embraced Miranda and kissed her with every bit of passion his body could muster. After three hours of wine, cake, music and laughter, the guests left, and Martin and Miranda tidied up.

Miranda kissed Martin on his earlobe and said that she wanted to take a shower. "Would you care to join me, Mr. Roberts?"

Martin smiled. "Sure thing, Miss Kelly."

Miranda playfully slapped his shoulder. "That's Mrs. Kelly-Roberts now."

Martin and Miranda quickly undressed and entered the shower. As they embraced, Miranda's white hand gave Martin's black bottom a playful squeeze.

"Are you ready...baby?"

Martin kissed her.

"Definitely."

As they began to touch each other's bodies, images flashed through Miranda's mind: ultrasounds, labor, stretch marks, breast-feeding, day care, kindergarten, high school, college. She looked down at another image: Martin's steely cock, harder than ever before and filled with the stuff that would make her a mother. She looked up at Martin's eyes and smiled, as if to say: No worries. I'm ready for it, mate.