The last terrible clouds have long disappeared over the horizon, leaving not a single barrier to dawn to seize the city. The streets of the Horde town of Karakorum gradually drowned in the golden rays of the tender spring sun.
Here it is, a small wooden house made of dark boards, a refuge, similar to many, but dear to the heart for a small Horde family. The family was small and had only two people. Mother and daughter wove prayer rugs for days that were then successfully sold in the local market. Of course, the income from them was small, but what is there to do? The father of the family appeared long before the Most High, leaving his relatives alone with the difficult worldly realities. Fate is sometimes unfair with us. But who are we to grumble at fate.

Daughter, Fakhriye, like her mother, was a true Oriental beauty. Clear lines of slanted Kazakh eyes, black hair like a thousand moonless nights, plump red lips, as if created for long passionate kisses. Do not count the hearts that have been spoiled by her beauty and do not describe with feat of feats that the young men did for the sake of their seductress.
As soon as the sun's rays, pouring from a small window, touched her delicate young skin, the girl flapped with long black cilia and yawned lazily.

“Get up, sleepyhead,” her mother threatened with a finger, “today there is nowhere else to work.”
Fahriye, with a full grace of movement, threw off the blanket to the side, exposing her youthful slender body, stood up and reached for her bathrobe.
“Mom, I want to go to the bazaar alone today,” said the girl, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
The mother appreciated with strict eyes the barely covered body of her daughter. She raised her black eyebrow and said:
- Dressed to start. Shame
Strict Muslim outfit, several prayer rugs and spring sun. Hard day for a young girl. But for the sake of a decent life will have to suffer a little.

Fakhrie clearly remembered the way to the Karakorum market, but today, as in the past, she was not going to sell mats. When she was with her, she had a more desirable commodity among merchants - her perfect and slender body, bestowed upon her by the Most High. In the near alley, the girl threw her family’s many days of work on the dusty narrow street and sighed with relief. With a graceful gait of a lioness, Fakhriye went out into a wide market square, giving a languid glance to men passing by.
The voices of people who offered their products were drowned in the general muffled hum Slender, narrow rows of benches with multi-colored canopies are located, revealing the wealth of the city to local residents and astonished foreigners.

Fahriya smiled stiffly at the local Horde, who did not meet her, but then abruptly waved her thin hand. Not. She was looking for prey of a completely different sort.
Here, sailing through the crowd of visitors to the bazaar, she met her eyes with a large man chained in armor and chain mail. Such warriors did not often come across her eyes. Blonde, blue-eyed, with skin tanned, but still not as dark as her own. He was clearly an alien, surely one of those coming from western lands. She braced herself and decided to go.

- Hello, what happened to our lands?
The stranger shrugged and shook his head with annoyance, indicating that he did not understand what was said.
“Wow, where I wandered, but I don’t know our language at all,” the girl thought.
Not confused, she grabbed the stranger's hand, firmly pressed her to her chest and said:
- fahriye.
The interlocutor was intelligent, took the girl's hand and sent it to his crotch, said:
- Yaroslav.

The next few minutes went by in search of a secluded asylum. Fortunately, there were several barns on the outskirts of the square, for which there was simply no one to follow on the market day. One of these sheds was abandoned.
The foreigner pushed the inner latch, walked over to Fakhrie and abruptly pushed her onto a thick bed of hay.The girl gasped in surprise, but she could not fight back. Her black pupils, in the lines of the Asian eyes, widened, and her chest tore a furiously beating heart.

The girl took off her hijab and beckoned her hero with a thin finger.
- Take me, rather, make your slave, - she said languidly.
Her voice, sounding nicer than a murmuring silver brook, beat the foreigner's mind with a louder sound of a nightingale song, and he, exposing the blade, cut the silk dress to the horde. He clutched her large, resilient breasts with his hands, embraced a slender wasp waist, and pressed his lips into her sweet, plump lips. Tongues of lovers intertwined in a mad dance of passion, love and lust.
Barely detached from the lips of Yaroslav, Fakhriye made several unsuccessful attempts to pull off his mail. In response to this, the foreigner's face broke into a condescending smile. With a few sharp movements, the warrior got rid of chain mail and pressed his lips to Fahriye's swollen nipples.

The girl responded to this quiet, but lingering moans. She ran her fingers through the hair of her man, squirmed and begged him not to stop. Yaroslav, meanwhile, went down with kisses below. When he reached the pubis of the girl, he stopped, pulled back, sharply grabbed Fahriya by the hair and planted her head on his penis. From unexpectedness in the girl in the eyes flashed drops of tears. The stranger, sparing no efforts, rammed a young girl’s neck, which caused the shed to be filled with chomping and squishing sounds. Ordinka braids, hanging out, finally disarranged, freeing many black strands. With one hand she was massaging the big heavy eggs of her lover, and the other was pulling her juicy pussy.

“Yeah,” growled the foreigner, spewing abundant streams of warm sperm into the girl’s throat.
Fahrie could barely keep up with the flow of the seed, almost dropping a few drops of the precious drink.
Realizing that the initiative is to intercept in their hands, the girl grabbed the guy by the hand and pushed herself to her, two heated bodies fell on the hay bedding. Catching his breath for a couple of seconds, Yaroslav spread his legs to his mistress in two movements and slowly introduced his stake into the wet pussy of the Horde.
“Mmm,” the girl said passionately.

The foreigner began to furiously fuck an Asian, tightly clutching her strained buttocks. From such a frenzied rhythm, Yaroslav's eggs hit the girl's ass with a slap. Fakhrie screamed, her mouth caught the hay-smelling air of hay, unable to even open her eyes. So shrill were the sensations that seized her body.
It lasted about half an hour or more than three hours, the Horde could not say. She, as if ascended to heaven, through heavy clouds, to lightness and bliss, to the highest spheres of paradise. With her strength entered the great golden hero, the very personification of decisiveness and masculinity. Now Fakhriye was ready to give up all the joys of life, from tradition and faith, in order that the moments of passionate sex with a white man never end.

Finally, Jaroslav shuddered, spewing a new stream of sperm directly into the wet crack of the horde.
Sometimes, escaping from the shroud of sleep, Fakhriye caught the sound of armor and the fading sound of footsteps. Her eyes saw several gold coins scattered around her face; reward for hard work. The body of a young Horde girl completely lost her strength, and she plunged into her own realm of dreams.