tagInterracial LoveDindi Pt. 05

Dindi Pt. 05



Here's part 5. The finale.

I wish I had more time to edit this.

I've been busy studying to try and get out of college and I promised not to take too long to post my chapters. My time has been very limited lately and I didn't think it would be fair to make you wait for the end of my Summer break to know what happens after the way I ended part 4.

It took me a while to write this. My inspiration was nowhere to be found, then it came (after weeks and too many bottles of wine to mention) and I got to writing. A lot. As a result, this is the longest chapter yet. It covers everything it should.

Again, I might be repetitive, but I must always say English is not my first language (and my fingers sometimes work faster than my brain), so you're bound to find some mistakes here. I apologize for it.

Writing this story has been fun. I received a lot of incredible comments and even gained a new penpal (linalinnius, sua linda)! I never expected the feedback to be so great. Thank you!

Thank you so, so much for taking a little bit of your time to read this. I'm so, so grateful. This is the end of Dindi, but I'll write again soon (I promise a funnier and emotionally lighter story next time). I quite like this writing thing...

All those messes from part 4 will be addressed, some new ones will surface, but the end is a happy one (not a spoiler. It always is).

See you next story.





"This is so good."

"You like it?"

"Mmm...I love it. You have magical fingers."

"So I'm doing this right?"

"Oh, yes. It's perfect..."

Travis and I were soaking in his tub. He had insisted I let him wash my hair and his fingers worked magic on my scalp. He massaged it slowly and thoroughly, going from my temples to the back of my head, then to my nape until I was a puddle of melted chocolate.

Under the water, my own hands were busy manipulating his cock. I did it with no hurry at all, feeling him get hard and tense under my palms before I slowed my rhythm down so he wouldn't come.

"When is George's party again? Thursday?" He asked.

I loved the tense huskiness my working hands created in his voice. However, I was way too high on the feel of his fingers to pay attention to his words.


"George's party? When is it?" He asked with an audible satisfied grin.

George's birthday was in three days. He planned a party meant to introduce his new boyfriend to his friends. Negligently, I hadn't been home very often this past few weeks having met the man in question, Lance, only once. As promised, I was trying to figure out how to be with Travis, and not just fuck him -or be fucked by him. So far the thing could not be better.

"Mmm...Friday night." Gee had ordered the cake three weeks in advance, saying Lance liked red velvet and everything had to be perfect.

Travis let one big hand slid from my head to my neck, pressing a thumb to the hollow of my throat on his way down to my breast. The soap and water made it all too easy for his hand to explore. Even surrounded by lukewarm water, I shivered. He had this way of touching me, it almost felt like the first time. As if his touch wasn't already printed on my skin.

"He's smitten, uh?" He observed.

He's not the only one. That little nosy voice told me. You are, too.

"Mmm-hmm." I hummed, absentmindedly. How the fuck could I have the mind to speak when his fingers were pinching my nipples?

"Should I bring something?" He used the hand still on my hair to move my head so he could kiss a trail along my jaw. My hand gripped him tighter, making him gasp slightly.

I was trying to decide where to concentrate my attention: if on his hand on my hair, the hand on my breast, or the lips on my skin.

"Just...hmm...wine. Bring me wine." I managed to answer.

I felt his soft chuckle on my ear lobe, but then, to my absolute horror, lips and hands left my skin. My eyes snapped open and I whimpered, knowing I was pouting like a child.

"Morena." Travis called, using my name. I tensed, taking my hand away from his beautifully hard cock. Unless he had something serious to say, he rarely called me by my actual name. This time when he did it though, it was like being ripped out of the most delicious dream.

"No, Travis. That's not my right name." I objected.

He eyed me with a studied caution that let me know he'd been rehearsing whatever serious thing he had to say.

"Did my mother say anything to you?" He asked.


My reaction was instantaneous, too fast for me to control.

"W-What do you mean?" I stuttered.

I wasn't good at hiding my emotions. Gee always said I couldn't pull a poker face if my life depended on it. Of course that, by now, Travis knew that too.

"Morena." His tone was reprehensive.

Almost a whole month had passed since we returned from that intense weekend at his mother's. He had noticed my strange behaviour the days following our return but gave up on asking me what was wrong after I had told him I was fine at least a hundred times. I chose not to tell him a thing about what I'd heard, and made sure Max wouldn't as well.

Even so, I had this nagging feeling Mrs. Keegan had wanted me to hear her. She had to know Max and I were within hearing distance of her voice. What I didn't know was the true aim of her evil plan: whether she had intended me to hear her question (though her disapproval of my whole existence was already obvious), or Travis's answer to it. I had bolted out the door before he had a chance to say anything back.

"Why would you ask me this?" I said, directing my eyes to the bubbles on the surface of the water.

"Answer my question first." He put a finger under my chin to bring my eyes up to level with his. He knew that would make lying extremely harder for me.

"No. She didn't say anything to me, Travis." I didn't lie. She said it to him, not me.

"No?" He surveyed my face for any signs of hidden information.

I did my best to give him a convincing look. "No. She didn't say a thing. She was perfectly polite."


I signed annoyed. I had no desire to talk about his prejudiced mother. "But what, Travis?"

"Morena." He chided, narrowing his cunning eyes.

Morena, Morena. George and Travis both could use my name like it was the worst threat in the world.

I kept my understanding of his mother prejudice to myself for his own sake. That family was fragile enough. Besides, I had developed a natural immunity to those kinds of comments. When you grow up in a house with a black, very strong woman for a mother, and a German, very loving man for a father, as a child, you tend to think that's how the world works. What's so wrong about two people who love each other?

I learned my lesson, though. About how the world works, about how people think, and -thanks to my mother- about not giving the slightest fuck to one's wrongful options.

"You are beautiful, Morena. You are not bellow anything or anyone. Don't you ever let yourself be put you down for being who are. Just be proud of it." Probably the most precious lesson my mother ever taught me.

Now, at 32, remarks like Mr. Keegan's were like mosquitos bites. They itched, bothered me for a while, then they were gone and I was still me. I was still whole and her precious son still wanted every damn inch of my mixed race body.

"I don't remember much about my father." I began, feeling like I had to explain the whole story. This wasn't something Travis would understand easily; having never felt it on his skin. "But I do remember people's faces when he told them I was his daughter. The same look some people give me when George introduces me as his sister. It's not just their surprise, mind you; 'Oh, but she's a mixed raced child' or "Oh, but how can she be your your sister if she's black? She's adopted or something?'." I huffed, annoyed I had to explain this things yet again. "Some people look at me like I'm not worth it, you know? Like I'm inferior. Rendered less of a person just because of my skin pigmentation. As if that alone was enough to set me apart as someone who's not good enough. You have to see it, the way people look at us in the streets sometimes. And we're rarely out together...So, no, Travis. Your mother didn't say anything to me. She didn't have to. Looks are worth more than words sometimes."

Afraid to look at him and find that pity in his eyes that people so often thought was the right reaction to have -or wost, maybe he'd defend his mother- I proceeded to dip the fingers of my right hand into the warm water. One after the other, from the little finger to the thumb.

"Dindi?" I looked up at him to see he was smiling that smile. The elevator smile. The smile that made me feel warm underneath. "You know you're absolutely perfect, don't you? My mother's issues are her own. They have nothing to do with you."

Nothing to do with me, but maybe something to do with somebody?

"Travis," I began warily. "Have you ever met her? Your dad's mistress?"

"I met her once." He said flatly, and the expression on his face confirmed what I already suspected.

"She was black, wasn't she?" My question made his eyes pop out. "That is why your mother disapproves of me so greatly, isn't it? I remind her of the other woman."

Travis's hand returned to my skin. He touched my cheek and I turned my lips into his palm, kissing it. A loud sigh left his lips before he spoke.

"It doesn't matter what she was. You're a person, not a colour. Nothing justifies my mother's behaviour." He focused his wide blue eyes on me in a way that made me feel like I was being lectured. "To talk about you the way she did, when you were a guest under her roof, I-" He stopped before he got too far, but I noticed the anger underlining his tone.

To talk about you the way she did.

I tried with all of my steel not to care about his mother's nonsensical words. However unfazed and familiar you become when it comes to people's stupid misconceptions, a part of you is always upset. After all, you're being judged for simply existing as you are.

Anyway, I could not stop myself from wondering what else Mr. Keegan had said to him when I was out of ear's reach? What had he said to her in return? I didn't give a fuck about the woman's old bitterness, but I did care, and a lot, about Travis's thoughts on the matter.

"What did she say to you, Travis?" I asked, averting my gaze from the fascinating bubbles on the tub to him.

"Nothing." He didn't look at me when he lied.

Nothing. Right. He'd made me say it. Now was his turn.

"Oh, come on now, Travis. You wouldn't have asked me that if she'd said nothing." I doubted he'd tell me on his own accord. I'd have to push him. "Just say it, I'm not a china doll. This kind of thing doesn't hurt me anymore. It's annoying, but not strong enough to hurt me. Just bloody say it."

He shook his head, avoiding eye contact. "It's stupid, Morena. You don't have to hear it."

"Well, I'm asking. So just spill it."

He groaned and fixed his gaze somewhere above my head, before finding my eyes.

"She just asked me if we were sleeping together." He edited her question. The bastard.

As irritable as the omission was, I could understand him. He thought that by telling me what she had actually said he'd hurt me somehow. He didn't know I had developed a shield against this kind of thing ages go. I smiled, in spite of my annoyance.

Never. He'd said when I asked him not to hurt me.

"Is that all she said, darling?" I slid a finger down the slope his nose.

"Yes." He lied again.

"That's not the whole truth. She didn't use those specific words." The plan was not to tell him, but my resolve bursted like the soapy bubbles around us. "I heard what she asked you, Travis." I confessed.

He frowned, taking in a deep breath through his nose before letting it out. Then that damned pity showed a little on its face.

"Morena, I-"

"Honestly, Travis." I said, interrupting him. "I could not give less of a fuck."


"Look, love." I cut him off again. "Do you have a problem with it?"

His eyes were the biggest pools of blue. He seemed offended I had even asked that. "It doesn't mean a thing to me." He said.

"Well, then. What do I care about what your mother thinks of me? I'm not shagging her." I concluded, creating a smile on his perfect lips that didn't reach his eyes.

More than in what she had said to him though, I was interested in what he had said to her.

"What did you tell her when she asked if you were having some of this?" I slid a suggestive hand down my belly and was rewarded with one of his soft laughs.

His mother must have expected him to say something that would upset me. Whyever would she ask him such a stupid thing so damn loudly? I'd bet all my money on his answer being quite agreeable to my ears, though.

"I told her yes, I was. I told her I wouldn't dare stop, and I told her I wouldn't be back home so soon."

"No, Travis! I don't want to be a reason for you to fight with your fam-" I was quick to protest, but he didn't let me.

"Morena!" There should be a rule against him calling me by my given name. "She raised me. I only know the right from the wrong because of her. And to find out she's such a-" He stopped himself there, not wanting to give his mother the adjective she so deservedly earned.

"Racist? That's the word you might be looking for..." I offered not so nicely.

He nodded, looking like a boy rather than a man. He was so naive sometimes. "Yeah. I just feel...I don't know. Disappointed, I guess."

"What's important it's that you are not like that, Travis. I mean..." I glanced down suggestively at our legs, entwined and contrasting under the water. "She raised you right." That was the best compliment I could give her. And I wasn't even sure her children good upbringing was due to her influence.

Travis looked so much like a lost boy that my mouth moved to meet his, but I could feel he wasn't into the kiss.

"What is it?" I had enough of this talk, already. I wanted to be done with it.

"I was thinking, Dindi." At least I was back to being Dindi. "If my mother isn't the woman I thought she was, maybe my dad saw it too. That might be why he did what he did."

Travis was a lovely man, he really was. Nevertheless, he had this boyish vulnerability; A naive wish to justify everything. He couldn't just forgive himself, or his father. He needed to come up with an excuse to do it first.

"I don't think that justifies it, Travis." I knew that might not be the thing he wanted to hear. But I also knew that lying didn't help anyone. "He felt fooled, so he slept with someone else? Completely abandoned his family for 6 whole months? Why didn't he just divorce her if she wasn't the woman he thought she was? I mean, didn't he keep the other woman until his death? Instead he chose to cheat and break the whole bloody family? Ruin his relationship with you? There's no excuse for cheating. If you are with someone, then you are because you made the conscient choice to be. If you decide that you don't want them anymore, then you should just let them go so you can fuck whoever you want." Travis was looking at me with a funny expression. A mix of amusement and disappointment. "Your mother might not be perfect, but she's your mother. We have both lost a parent, Travis. Are you sure you want to push away the only one you have left?"

When I finished I looked at him cautiously, afraid my words might have bothered him somehow. Instead I saw him eyeing me that way that made me feel like my bones were made of marshmallow.

"God, you are unbelievable." He put his hands on my face and drew it closer to his. "I just tell you someone offends you and disrespects you for being you, beautiful as you are, and your reaction is to defend them?" He laughed. "You are just perfect."

The way I saw it I wasn't defending anyone, least of all his mother. More than three months into whatever it was we had, he still flattered me to the point where I felt uncomfortable. I wasn't used to this. James used to be lovingly enough, but he's always been cold. Reserved. Travis was so physical, caring, being clingy at times, always saying the sweetest things.

"Oh, I am. Let me tell you. It's exhausting, though I'm used to it. Being perfect, I mean." I said. Bantering was always my way of hiding discomfort. My protective shield.

Travis's hands grabbed my hips and brought me closer to him. I felt his hard cock brushing the inside of my thighs.

"You know what else is perfect?" He asked. His voice was teasing me, carrying a heavy sensuality.


"Your face when I make you come." He said and, easy like that, made wetter than the water around us.

Whatever was said to be right by his mother and society both, it didn't matter. No one I've ever met before; no man, be him black, white, yellow or whatever the fuck he was, had ever made me feel the way Travis did with just a skim of lips along my jaw.

"Well now, I love me, I love a black woman..." I moaned-chanted in Travis's ear while his mouth was concentrated on the soft, sensible spot of my neck.

He pulled his head away and looked at me with an expression both amused and confused.

"What?" I asked, feigning misunderstanding while I tried my hardest not to burst into laughter. "It's Tim Buckley. I've told you I like the Buckleys, haven't I?"

He laughed. Dear god, how I loved it when he laughed that way.

"Come here." He pulled me closer, then shut me up with his mouth. My body was already well accustomed to his, had molded itself to his length. When he slid his cock inside me, the motion was easier than breathing. We moved together, inciting the soap on the water to form new bubbles. His fingers got tangled in my hair, still wet with conditioner.

Everything was slippery. His skin, my skin, our mouths, my pussy, his cock. I watched his face while he was inside me. The pleasure I gave him, the crease deforming his brows, the darkness invading the blue of his eyes, his parted lips; The way he used my body like a temple, pushing himself inside my warmth until my thoughts were all scattered and I lost my perception of everything else but him.


"So you got yourself a man, Ginger Gee?"

George passed me another hot dog to chop so he could make pigs in a blanket for his birthday party.

"Well, you've got Travis's Wonder Cock. So I got myself a little something to play with, too."

"Travis's Wonder Cock?" I laughed, wondering where the hell he had come up with that. "George, how the fuck do you know so much about Travis's cock? Did you sleep with him, too?"At this point we talked about the cock in question as if it were an entity.

"Oh, I wish!" Gee was kneading the dough meant for his hot dogs like a man on a mission. "You'd be surprised what the girls talk about during makeup." He said, lifting his ruddy eyebrows.

The girls? If I were enough of a hypocrite, I'd ask Travis just how many women had he slept with, for fuck's sake. But I wouldn't want him asking me that sort of thing. So whyever should I do it to him?

"How many fucking women has he shagged, anyway?" I asked George, throwing my hands up in mild exasperation. Not that I cared what Travis had done in his past. If anything I was glad he had so much practice. Nevertheless, I was curious. Surely, he wasn't this mind-blowingly good in bed without having lots and lots of practice with lots and lots of women.

"I might know at least a dozen." Gee said being actually serious.

"A dozen?"

"Maybe more."


"Oh, please, don't tell me! I do not want to know!" I screeched, then wondered just how many of those twelve women statistics allowed Gee to invite for his party.

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