The Island, Chapter 4
Introduction:
Author’s Note: This is a serial novel. It mixes actual experiences, fantasies, and outright lunacy. It is not a quick lurk-and-jerk. I believe in a slow build, in order to have a better payoff at the end. (Like Sting, I’m Tantric…). I plan to release a new chapter every week. Hopefully the response will be good! Enjoy.
The sensation of cool water on my forehead woke me.
I opened my gummy eyes, wincing at the bright sunlight that assaulted them. I smelled salt air, and heard voices nearby raised in anger, and others wailing. I turned to the left and was rewarded by a stab of pain in my neck, and a pounding headache. I focused on the dark blur in front of me. A lovely, tanned face gave me an encouraging smile. She continued to wipe off my forehead and said, “God, I’m glad you’re awake! I could use some help.”
She seemed familiar to me, but my addled brain was not putting a name to the face.
“Who…? I managed to croak. She must have sensed my confusion.
“It’s Joelle, Dr. Connor. I recognized you lying on the beach with the other injured. I stitched up your forehead while you were out. Do you remember what happened?”
“What? Where are we?”
“Some island. The plane grounded on a reef after they ditched it. The pilot saved our lives. It’s so tragic he didn’t survive,” she said sadly.
The plane! I remembered now. The guns. The crash landing. But…Joelle?
Joelle was an OR nurse at the hospital at which I had just lost my job. She was Peruvian, and one hell of a surgical assistant. She was also one of my favorite people in the world. What in the hell was she doing in the Indian Ocean with me? She had not been on the plane, too, had she? This was way too much of a coincidence, and I began to wonder if I was hallucinating.
I opened my mouth, intending to say so, but a thought materialized in my mind: Accept.
WTF? I am not a Zenlike person. I do not “accept.” The thought was out of character for me and seemed to have been placed there from outside of my own consciousness.
“Joelle, you can’t be here. This is crazy.” I started to explain why none of this was reasonable, but again, like a neon sign behind my eyes: Accept.
My mouth clicked shut. My headache pounded. Suddenly the whole bizarre string of events seemed perfectly understandable. It was natural that Joelle was here. There were injured people that needed my help, she was my best assistant, and she was there to help me. She stroked my forehead with her cloth again, and gave me the incandescent smile I dreamed of some nights.
Joelle was possibly the nicest person I knew. She was 32, gorgeous, dedicated to her job, smart as hell, and mystifyingly single. I knew she wanted a husband and family, but she never seemed to be able to meet anyone suitable. She was a good girl, raised by religious parents who had emigrated to the US when she was young. I suspected her reluctance to engage in one-night stands and to troll the internet dating sites were hampering her search for man in the modern era. I had considered asking her out myself, but I had hesitated, fearing in my heart she was too good for me, and did not deserve a dedicated pussy-hound like me in her life. It would also be very awkward and have work implications, since we had a professional relationship. Nevertheless I could dream, and I did. Her pleasantly plump body appeared in many of my fantasies, fueled by regular stolen glances down her scrub top at her big, tanned, freckled breasts encased in the conservative bras she favored. Her long brown curls draped over her shoulders like a thick cape, and her coffee-colored eyes peered out of a stunning Inca-influenced face that would frequently split open in a luminous smile that lit up the room. She was curvy, with a generous ass that I loved to watch move around the OR as she helped set up my cases. On more than one occasion I had been treated to the site of her panties peeking over the waistband of her scrub pants as she bent over to pick something off of the floor. Once I had been pleasantly surprised to see a red lace whale tail cradling the top of her luscious bum when she had stretched over a patient to adjust a monitor. Maybe she had a naughty streak after all, I had thought, if she’s wearing a sexy thong to work!
Alas, I had never dared make a move on her. I wrenched my attention back to the present. I knew I should have been freaked out at just having survived a terrorist attack and a plane crash, but somehow I didn’t seem to be overly concerned at the circumstances I found myself in. I glanced around. I was lying on the sand under a palm tree. I was shirtless, and I wondered how much blood I had lost from my forehead. Scalp lacerations bled like shit. Maybe I had soaked my shirt? I did seem to have a lot of blood on me. Joelle wrung out the cloth she had been cleaning me with and re-wet it in a plastic container full of seawater by the salty smell of it.
She ran the cool cloth over my chest and I enjoyed the sensation while looking at her beautiful, familiar face. She was in a pair of tan shorts, and had on a white blouse that gaped open as she leaned over me to wipe the blood off my chest. I was treated to the sight of the lovely, caramel-colored expanse of her chest (no red lace this time, just a plain, white, cotton bra) for a moment, and my breath caught in my chest. She must have caught me staring, for she blushed and leaned back, a little flustered.
“You look like you’re feeling better, Dr. Connor,” she said hesitantly.
“I’ve told you before, it’s Dave. Especially after a plane crash.”
I tore my attention away from daydreams of Peruvian poontang. I had work to do! I sat up, preparing for the pounding in my head to intensify with the change in position, but my headache seemed to have abated once I gave up trying to puzzle out how all this had happened.
“How many injured? “ I asked Joelle.
“A few,” she said. “ A couple of serious ones I want you to look at. For better or worse, most of the badly injured ones didn’t survive,” she said sadly. I understood what she meant. Not having any equipment or medical facilities would mean a slow, painful decline for anyone with a major traumatic injury. A quick death might be preferable.
“There are about 60 survivors. Most of them are trying to salvage all they can from the plane. It’s resting on the reef on the other side of the lagoon. It was your friend’s idea—the one from Tae Kwon Do—she has been organizing things since the crash. She had been sitting by your side until I told her you would be OK, and convinced her to get whatever supplies we could save off of the plane.”
With a feeling of dread I asked, “What about the kids? My students? And the girls from the high school? “
“None of your students were hurt badly, just banged up. One of the cheerleaders and 2 of the field hockey players died. One of the coaches is pretty serious. She has a broken leg and has been unconscious since we got here. All of the terrorists are dead except for one woman. They have her tied up with shoelaces and belts over there.” She gestured behind her toward a patch of vegetation down the beach.
“The pilot and copilot both died. The cockpit took the brunt of the crash when we hit the water. A lot of the passengers were killed by the hijackers, and a bunch more were out of their seats when we hit. None of them survived. You’re pretty lucky you did.”
“Do you know where we are?” I asked.
“The flight attendants think we are somewhere near Malaysia, maybe an island. We haven’t seen any signs of habitation. For obvious reasons they had other concerns than getting a location fix before the crash. They aren’t even certain the pilot got off a coherent Mayday. Everything happened so fast, and by the end we were well below radar. We may be yet another missing airliner that never gets found.” Her voice quivered a little as she said that last bit.
I touched her shoulder. “Have a little faith, Joelle. For some reason I think everything is going to be OK.” She rewarded my with that wonderful smile, even through her tears. “Everyone has done their part while I’ve been out. Let me do something constructive. Show me the injured folks.”
I stood up and she led me to a shady area a few feet away. My first patient was Connor, one of my Tae Kwon Do kids. His left leg was in a crude splint made of sticks. He was a little hellion, but I had a soft spot for him, given that we shared a name. Joelle told me he had a tib-fib fracture, but no displacement. He looked a little peaked, but seemed to be handling things remarkably well. There were multiple cuts, scrapes, contusions, lacerations among a dozen passengers. Some had been patched up already by my trusty nurse, and had joined the salvage detail. Others needed a little reassurance, a suture or two, or some wound dressing. We had the med kit from the airliner at our disposal, and soon made short work of the walking wounded.
After I had seen a few patients, I was happily surprised when Janie came running up and gave me a big hug.
“You’re OK!” she cried happily.
“I’ve got a pretty thick skull,” I said, gently rubbing my new sutures. “How are you doing? How is Jared?”
“He’s fine. Not a scratch. He and some of the other students are organizing the supplies we are bringing back from the plane—sorting them into food, shelter, sleeping gear, etcetera. I figured it was something useful the younger ones could do.”
“I’ve got the cheerleaders and field hockey teams scouting the area for fresh water or food sources, or civilization. A couple of them were in girl scouts and know how to use a compass.”
“Some of the adults on the plane have been on burial detail. Nobody wanted to leave the bodies on the plane. We got the deceased passengers off first so that we could clear out anything useful from the plane without having to see them constantly. The dead hijackers we tossed into the ocean for the sharks,” she finished grimly.
I was impressed. “You have really stepped up here. Who knew you were FEMA material?”
“Well, I’ve led a lot of project teams at my consulting firm. And someone had to start organizing. There weren’t many other candidates.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Most of the passengers from the US were kids,” she explained. “About half of the adults were among those that tried to take down the terrorists and were stabbed or shot. Mostly the men. There were only five or six men among the international passengers, not counting the terrorists, and almost all of them were killed in the crash. Two drowned trying to save their families who had fallen into the ocean when we crashed. The pilot and copilot didn’t survive. The air marshal was killed. One of the flight attendants is male, but he doesn’t seem to be handling the situation very well. I suspect his boyfriend at home is the strong one. He seems pretty fragile. I suspect that if we had more men, one of them would have taken over; it’s in their nature. But other than you, there aren’t many candidates.”
Jesus, it was worse than I had thought.
“ I think you are the best choice for leader. You seem to be doing a great job. I’m going to concentrate on the wounded for now, and you keep doing what you need to do to get us through this.” I was proud of Janie. I knew she was someone special, and she was proving me right. She gave me a hug and back to the salvage crew.
“Is she your girlfriend? You’ve never mentioned her at work,” asked Joelle.
“No, “ I said. “We know each other from Tae Kwon Do. We were supposed to be taking care of the kids until we reached Korea. They had host families to stay with there.”
“She’s pretty great,” Joelle said. “I wish I was capable like her. I haven’t accomplished much while you were out. I kept hoping you would wake up and help. I’ve been pretty overwhelmed.”
“Joelle, you have been fantastic. You fixed Connor’s leg and my head, and I know you patched up a bunch of other folks and got them working again. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Despite her talents, I knew she tended to be pretty self-critical. “Show me the rest of our patients and let’s get them fixed up.”
“OK.” She shook off her self-pity. “I really want you to look at the field hockey coach. I’m worried about her.”
She had a right to be. The woman had a huge bruise on the side of her head. She was still unconscious, but at least her pupils were equal and she responded to pain by moving. Her right leg was a mess, with an open fracture that had been dressed with gauze, and a pale, cool foot below.
“She’s got no pulse in that foot,” I said. “I bet the fracture has injured the artery. We need to straighten the leg and reduce the bone, and figure out some sort of traction.”
We jury-rigged a system with a seat cushion, some cord, and a tree. When it was ready, I had Joelle pull the foot while I held the woman’s thigh. She groaned as the protruding bone slid back inside the wound. Suddenly blood began spurting from the opening, spraying Joelle’s torso.
“Crap! She’s got an arterial laceration. It must have been compressed by the bone fragments. Find something useful in the med kit!” I yelled as I pulled apart the wound edges. More by luck than skill I found the bleeder, and Joelle handed me a hemostat and a suture to tie it off. Fortunately for our patient, it was only one branch of the lower leg arterial system, and she had regained a pulse in the foot with the leg straightened. We got our traction system attached and managed to catch our breath.
Joelle was obviously upset, and at first I thought it was because she had been covered in blood. She surprised me, though, by bursting into tears and wailing, “I’m hopeless at this! I should have caught the pulseless foot! I might have cost that poor woman her leg!” With that she ran off into the trees that lined the beach.
I chased after her, yelling her name, until I caught up to her near a small waterfall tumbling into an underlying pool of fresh water. Joelle was sitting on a rock, sobbing and hugging herself. I knelt next to her, murmuring comforting nonsense, and pulled her to me. She buried her face in my chest, crying uncontrollably. I just held her and rocked her, letting her wind down. When she had progressed to sniffles and hiccups. I sat across from her and held her shoulders in my hands. Looking into her tear-filled eyes I told her, “You need to quit beating up on yourself. You recognized she was sick; that’s half the battle. If you hadn’t called my attention to her, I wouldn’t have been able to help her. Remember, I’ve had trauma training and you haven’t. I’m supposed to be able to handle stuff like that. And I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
She looked doubtful. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just have been so down lately, and all of this,” she gestured around her “has just pushed me over the edge. I know I’m good at what I do, but I feel like a failure. I never got into medical school like my parents wanted. I can’t get a decent date, I’m way behind my sister in starting a family, and now a may never get a chance.”
I felt terrible for her. How could someone so terrific not know how special she was?
“I know for a fact you could have gotten into medical school if it hadn’t been for your visa status. You told me that story yourself. I can’t explain your lack of dates. I think you are the perfect woman. You are smart, funny, capable, independent, and sexy as hell.” This came pouring out of me in a rush. I had never told her this at work; it seemed like a bad idea given our professional relationship. Doctors had lost their jobs coming on to nurses they supervised.
She looked at me, stunned. “I had no idea you felt that way. Why didn’t you say something? “ I explained my reasoning. It seemed pretty lame under our present circumstances.
“Plus,” I said, looking away from her in embarrassment, ”I have always been a bit of a player. I thought you were looking for something more permanent.”
“Maybe I was, but lately I’m just a lonely woman looking for someone I can care about. I don’t want to die a virgin.”
What?
“You’ve never been with a man? I can’t believe that!” She was way too hot not to have been hounded by boys throughout high school and college. Had she really never given in?
“It’s true,” she said ruefully. “Oh I could have. I had a few boyfriends, and we made out a few times. I never went all the way. My parents said it was wrong. Now I wonder. I’ve been the ‘good girl’ all my life and I end up a lonely virgin in a plane crash, while my sister, the slut, ends up happily married with 2 kids and is safe at home.” Tears again welled up in her beautiful eyes.
I held her to me. “I don’t know if it helps,” I said, “but if I were one of your boyfriends I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. You are just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed against my neck. Pulling away and looking up at me, she said, “You really mean that?”
“Absolutuely.”
“What would you do if you were my boyfriend?” she asked coyly.
My heart began to pound. Was this an opportunity?
“First, I would do this.” I ran my hand through her thick, brown hair. She had tied it up on the back of her head, and I released it so it cascaded over her shoulders. “Then I would do this.” I pulled her head to me and kissed her gently on each eyelid, on her nose, and on her full lips. Her breathing was quickening and her eyes were bright.
“And then what?”
“And then I would do this.” I stood up, pulling her to her feet. I slid my hands down her back and onto her firm butt. I caressed the twin globes while parting her lips with my tongue. She threw her arms around me and returned the kiss with enthusiasm.
“ I think I want you to be my first, “ she said in a trembling voice. “ I think I want you to take me now.”
I was just as nervous as she was, not my usual status with the ladies. “Are you sure?”
She bit her lip and nodded shyly at me. I planted another long, slow kiss on those enticing lips, and ran my tongue over her teeth. She slid hers into my mouth in response and we explored each other with mouths and hands. I had a raging erection now, and I was sure she could feel it through my pants.
I had an idea how to make this more interesting. “Let’s get you cleaned up first,” I said with a grin, and taking her in my arms, jumped into the pool at the base of the waterfall. She gasped and sputtered, but made no protest as I slowly unbuttoned her bloodstained blouse. I made a halfhearted attempt to wash it off in the water, then shrugged and tossed it on the rocks for later. Her full breasts strained against the thin cotton of her wet bra, now nearly transparent. Her gorgeous D-cup mounds were heaving with every breath, and her nipples were two fat brown points stretching the fabric over her large areolae. I washed the blood from her arms and shoulders, and from the soft pooch of her belly. Sliding my hands down to her full hips I kissed her once more. She hastily unbuckled my pants and frantically yanked them off, panting heavily. I guess she had waited long enough for her first cock! My erection was bulging through my wet shorts, and she seemed transfixed. I had watched her put catheters in men before, and it had always gotten me hard imagining her touching my schlong instead of theirs. She looked at me and I nodded. Her hand stretched out and caressed the bulging head of my dick through the wet fabric. I gave an involuntary moan as she squeezed the sensitive flesh. She slipped her fingers under the waistband and pulled it over my swollen member. It sprang to attention, bobbing in time to my pounding pulse. I shimmied off the undies and she tossed them next to her blouse. Her warm hand on my scrotum was a sharp contrast to the cold water dripping off it. She wrapped her other hand around my shaft, pulling the clinging foreskin off of the engorged purple head, studying it avidly.
“It’s bigger than I imagined it would be,” she said softly.
She had been imagining my cock while we were at work? The thought made me even hornier, if that was possible.
“It’s not always this big, but it usually is when you are in the room,” I said honestly. “You always get me going.”
She blushed prettily. She was now stroking my penis gently while fondling my dangling nuts with the other hand. She looked away from my intense gaze. “I sometimes imagined doing this at night when I was in bed. I sometimes had to touch myself. I know that’s slutty, but it’s true.”
“Feelings like that are perfectly normal,” I assured her. “You’re a 32 year old virgin. That’s anything but slutty. The things I imagined about you were a lot more intense.”
“Like what?” she asked playfully, pulling on my meat harder and twisting her hand in a way that was giving me goosebumps.
“Well…I’ll show you what I was doing to you later, but you were doing some things to me with your mouth that I sure enjoyed.”
“Something like this?” she said, and knelt on the sandy bottom of the pool and engulfed my throbbing cock in her warm mouth.
“God, yes!” I groaned, savoring the delicious sensations as another one of my fantasies came true. Her inexperience didn’t stop her from attacking my prick with enthusiasm. She slid her generous lips down the length of my shaft until the swollen head collided with the back of her throat. She gagged and pulled back, then slowly began bobbing her head up and down, establishing a rhythm and a depth that was more comfortable for her. Soon she got her tongue into the act, caressing the sensitive skin around the head and down the underside of the shaft with its sensual warmth. She was moaning with each slurp, and her love noises harmonized with the sounds of agonizing pleasure she was drawing from my constricted throat.
She popped the X-rated lollipop out of her mouth for a moment and studied the tip. “Is it more sensitive at the end?” she asked innocently, rubbing the tip of one manicured nail over the glans and sending shooting sensations of lust through my nether regions.
“Shit, yeah!” I yelped. “Especially under the edge of the head. Don’t be afraid to use your hands or any other body part you want to. There’s no wrong way to give a blow-job. Except maybe biting it. Hard, anyway,” I amended.
She began planting little butterfly kisses on the purple helmet, while massaging the length of my meat with both hands. She leaned in to slurp my package back into her mouth, and I felt her erect nipples graze my shins through the wet fabric of her bra. She then shocked me by sucking my right nut into her mouth and giving it a tongue bath and a tug with her lips.
“Jesus,” I hissed. “You sure are a quick study in male anatomy. I knew you would have made it in medical school.”
She laughed around her mouthful of testicle, the vibrations making me weak in the knees, then went back to eating tube steak for a while. I wasn’t sure how much more I could stand.
“Stop!” I said reluctantly. She quickly disengaged and looked stricken.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked worriedly.
“No! You’re too good at this. I don’t want to come yet. I want to make this last as long as I can. After all, this is all about your experience.” I pulled her back to her feet, drawing her to me and wrapping my arms around her. My rock hard penis was pillowed on her soft belly. I planted a long, slow kiss on her warm mouth, exploring her with my hungry tongue. She responded in kind, obviously getting more aroused by the minute. My hands roamed freely over her big, womanly ass, and I realized she still had way too much clothing on!
I unbuttoned and shucked off her pants, revealing her typically conservative panties. They were white cotton, with little pink hearts scattered over them. The water had made them more sheer than they were intended to be, and the dark triangle clearly visible over her mound was intensely arousing to me. She was shivering, and I realized the cold water combined with the shade in our little pool must have been getting her a little chilly. Not that I minded the effect this produced on her magnificent mammaries (she looked like she was smuggling a couple of chocolate gumdrops in her bra!), but I wanted this first sexual experience to be comfortable for her. I took her by the hand and led her to the rocky ledge overlooking the pool. We climbed up onto the smooth shelf and stood in the warm, tropical sunshine. I stood behind her, kissing the back of her neck, then ran my hands down her back. One hook at a time, I undid her bra, then slowly slid my hands around her chest until I held one bulging breast in each hand. I hefted their substantial weight, running my index fingers over the stiff peaks of her nipples, making her gasp. She arched her back, lifting her arms over her head to twine her fingers in my hair. I kissed the side of her mouth as I caressed her succulent mounds, pinching and pulling on her nipples while grinding my thick cock into her back. I caressed my way down over the gentle swell of her belly, and slid my fingers under the waistband of her panties. My hands continued downward over the curve of her hourglass hips and down her full, muscular thighs, carrying the slip of fabric with them until it dropped to the ground. She stepped out of them and turned around.
She looked up at me and, while running her fingers through my chest hair, said, “I’m a little nervous about what comes next.” She sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. “ I don’t think it will hurt that much. I mean, I’ve used tampons for years, and…” She trailed off, obviously embarrassed.
I pulled back a little, looking at her blushing face. “What?” I said, with a reassuring smile. You can tell me.”
She looked away. “I do have a vibrator a friend gave me once as a gift. It was at a party my friends threw. A sex toy party,“ she said, as if this were a shocking thing. I guess it probably must have been, for her. I began massaging her bubble butt while she talked. She went back to playing with my chest hair.
“I didn’t know what they had planned when they invited me. We had dinner and a lot of wine, and then they brought out all these things. I couldn’t believe it! I was so embarrassed. All the girls were handling them, and Susan even went into the bathroom to try one. I couldn’t bring myself to buy one, but my best friend got one for me and slipped it in my purse. It took me quite a while to get up the nerve to try it. I must say,” she admitted with a sheepish grin, “it really is a lonely girl’s best friend.”
A vision of her spread-eagled in her bed, plowing her virginal furrow with a buzzing plastic dong and screaming in ecstasy flashed into my head. I shuddered involuntarily. God, what a rush!
“Anyway,” she continued, “as I said, I don’t think it will hurt that much, but I really don’t know what to do. I don’t want this to be awkward. I don’t want to disappoint you.” She looked up at me earnestly and my heart broke a little for her. She was so innocent and so eager to please.
I wrapped her in my arms once more, and kissed her forehead. “I can promise you, I will make this special for you. You mean more to me than you know, and I would never hurt you. And you’ll see. Your body will know what to do!”
With that I laid her down and kissed her full lips once more. I kissed her neck, then her collarbone, making my may to her heaving bosom. I licked each nipple lightly, appreciating the puckered brown flesh jutting out of her tanned tits. Each nipple was about ¾ of an inch long, a rich chocolate brown with a dimple in the center. They were surrounded by large, puckered areolae, each about 2 inches across. I slurped one teat into my hungry mouth, and she gasped. Suckling on her divine D-cups was a heavenly experience, and I shifted from one to the other, showering my attention on her funbags. I took one fat nipple in my teeth, biting it gently, drawing a tortured moan from her parted lips.
Kissing my way across her plump little belly, I stopped to lick her navel, making her giggle, then arrived at the forbidden forest of her pubic thatch. She had long, wavy brown hair in a dense thicket that completely covered her puffy mons. I buried my face in the crinkly patch, drinking in her personal perfume. Her aroused pussy was giving off a tangy mix of pheromones and a sultry, salty smell I found intoxicating. She parted her legs instinctively, and I caressed her inner thighs while taking in the beautiful sight of her nether regions. Her protruding labia were a lovely caramel color, like the rest of her, and slightly parted. Tucked up inside, her inner lips were small and darker, hidden in her crack. I gently parted her pussy with my thumbs, and began exploring her slick crevices with the tip of my tongue. I reveled in her salty tang as I traced the crease between her inner and outer lips up to the little pink bud of her clitoris, hidden in its hood. A little more pressure with my thumbs and the hood slid back, and her little gem was exposed. I touched it with my tongue, and she began crooning in Spanish. “Tan bueno! Tan bueno!”
Sucking it gently into my mouth, I caressed it with my tongue. She made wordless cries and began squirming. I shifted my attention to her seeping vagina, bathing the wrinkled walls of her sweet passage with my saliva, and experiencing the complex flavor of her freely flowing juices.
She began pulling on my hair, crying, “Now! Please, now! I need you in me! I’ve waited so long. Ay Dios mio! Please!”
I couldn’t resist her fervent cries and rested my weight across her parted thighs. She attacked my mouth with hers, biting my lip and almost drawing blood. I carefully aimed my mushroom tip at her wet fuckhole, and slowly slid it between her tight lips, nuzzling her vaginal entrance.
“Now!” she screamed again, in a frenzy of lust, and grabbed my ass with both hands, pulling me into her forcefully. My thick cock parted the innocent walls of her cunt, ramming to the hilt in an instant. She was so tight, her twat gripped my schwantz like a velvet vise. She began bucking and writhing, and a flood of warmth flowed over my balls as she had her first orgasm with a real penis in her.
“Oooooooh! Oooooooh! Oooooooooooooh!” she squealed, her back arched and her eyes tightly closed. “That feels so good! I didn’t know…aaaaaaaah!”
I rode her like a mechanical bull as convulsions shook her. As her climax subsided, I began thrusting into her slowly, feeling her silky grip on every inch of my engorged shaft. I slowly built up speed, knowing I wouldn’t last very long in this steaming hot snatch, and wanting to give her one more taste of nirvana before I blew my load. A wordless humming escaped her lips as she tenderly caressed by back, punctuated by occasional Spanish phrases I didn’t understand. The sweet friction between our perfectly paired genitals was doing its work, and I could tell we were both reaching our peak.
“Is it safe to come in you?” I gasped, not wanting her to get pregnant with her very first fuck. Pulling out of her sublime slit was the last thing I wanted to do, but this was supposed to be about her….
“Go ahead,” she huffed breathlessly. “It’s a good time.”
I didn’t need to be convinced. Thrusting ever deeper, I began bouncing the head of my dick on her cervix, feeling her womb jolting up and down with each powerful penetration. My throbbing balls were slapping her dripping wet perineum with every pounding entry of my hungry man meat into her overwrought pussy. She instinctively wrapped her legs around my back, grinding her clit against my pubic bone to increase the stimulation. Her sharp cries echoed through the verdant glade as we rode the pleasure train to its destination. My toes curled and my scrotum tightened. Her nails dug into my back. I was pistoning into her like a machine, and soon was rewarded with a long, drawn out wail as she reached another shuddering peak of pleasure. As her warm vagina began contracting around my rigid member, a geyser of semen spewed deep into her, painting her inner recesses with my white lava. Gush after gush came streaming out of my cockhead as my thrusts became disjointed, involuntary spasms, and I had the most powerful orgasm I have ever experienced.
Slowly we came down for our lusty high, clutching each other tightly and feeling the warm issue of our union flow out of her snatch and pool beneath us. Joelle suddenly burst into tears, sobbing and shaking as she held on to me like a life preserver in a flood of emotion. I had heard sometimes women cried with orgasm, but I was concerned. “Did I hurt you?” I asked worriedly.
“N-no,” she managed to get out. “That w-was just so intense I c-couldn’t hold it in. I’m fine. In fact, I’m wonderful!” Her smile lit up our love nest like the sun. “That was the most incredible thing I h-have ever experienced!”
“I’m happy. I wanted your first time to be memorable.” I kissed away her tears, savoring the salty taste.
“God, was it ever! I can’t believe I waited 32 years for that! I want to do it again and again!”
“Not now!” I said in mock horror. “You’ll kill me! A guy can’t do that again right away. Our batteries have to recharge. Besides,” I said as the reality of our situation came crashing back in, “we have to get back to the beach. We have work to do and people are depending on us.”
“I guess,” she said with a pouty expression. “Promise me we’ll do this again, though.”
“You bet your sweet ass we will! Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from your beautiful body!” I kissed her once more, slowly, and then took her hand as we jumped back into the pool to wash off. Once the evidence of our lovemaking was gone, we made our way back to our fellow castaways, wondering what this bizarre adventure had in store for us next.
To be continued….
