(Tropic09.TXT)
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"Tropic of Eros" - Chapter 9 of ??
|| (M/F, F/F and just about everything else)
Written by: HighlanderJM - (c) 1998-2004
E-mail: HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
Chat: http://messenger.msn.com - HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
Archive: ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/HighlanderJM/
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"OH MY GOD!" Amy exclaimed at me, as the two of us were
lounging together next to the outdoor swimming pool. "Are
you serious?" she added. "That's unbelievable!"
"Of course I am serious, Miss Amy," I said in response.
"Believe it or not, you and I were in the same second grade
class together way back when. [City Name] West Elementary,
in [City Name], Ohio. Do you remember Mrs. Nicholson? She
was the teacher of our class."
"OH MY GOD!" Amy repeated, now laughing. "I do! I DO!
I don't really remember anything specific, because I was so
young back then. Gosh... I guess I was only seven." She
shook her head at me and concluded, "I don't remember one
thing about you, Jeremy. Your name, you, anything..."
I nodded my head at her. "It was in 1981 and 1982. I
really don't expect you to remember me."
"Do you remember me at all?"
"Just your name," I answered. "That's it. I have an
uncanny knack for remembering names. I found my second
grade yearbook and looked you up, and sure enough, there
you were. When Kristanna and I were going through the
applications for the island months ago, I saw your name -
Amy [Last Name] - and a light bulb went off in my head.
Because you and I were from the same town - at least
originally - and I recognized your name, I knew I had went
to elementary school with you. The yearbook confirmed it."
"This is incredible!" Amy gushed. "I cannot believe
that you and I were in the same second grade class in Ohio,
then we meet up 22, 23 years later thousands and thousands
of miles away on this island. What a coincidence! Is that
why you accepted my application?"
"It was one of the reasons, yes," I replied. "I like it
that you and I are linked together, in some small way. Do
you remember Traci [Last Name]?" Amy laughed once again as
I added, "I had the biggest crush on her. Mostly, I did not
like girls then. I hated girls. Traci [Last Name] was the
lone exception. I had the biggest schoolboy crush on her."
"I was good friends with Traci until she moved away after
the sixth or seventh grade!" Amy giggled. "Oh God... this
is so neat! I wish that you and I could have been friends
back then, Jeremy. I really do!"
"If I recall correctly, Traci's mom was a teacher there
at the elementary school, too."
Amy nodded her head. "Yes. I had her in fourth grade."
I smiled. "Traci would never talk to me."
"Awwwww... that's too bad."
"I should have been attracted to you the most, though," I
countered. "I looked at your picture in the yearbook and
what I saw was a very pretty, little red-head."
Amy grinned at me. "Thank you, Jeremy."
"Devon and Pamela have been pressuring me to tell you
about our little link from the past," I remarked. "I have
told both of them that you and I were in the same second
grade class together. They think it is really neat."
"It is!"
"When you and I were in the second grade, Amy, just think
that Lindsay had not even been born yet," I mused. "She had
not even been CONCEIVED yet. Now, Lindsay is an adult."
"Are you hinting that we're going to be senior citizens
soon?" Amy snickered. "You're 30. I turn 30 in nine days.
We were 11 when Lindsay was born 18-and-a-half years ago."
Amy paused and continued, "Did you know that I ran into
Lindsay two years ago?" I shook my head in response as she
went on, "Lindsay was only 16. I went into the supermarket
where she works and bought some perfume from her at the
cosmetics counter one night. I had a hot date lined up!"
"With someone other than your husband?"
Amy laughed. "Yeah, I admit it. I was going out with
someone other than my husband at the time. Maybe that is
why he divorced me. One of many reasons, actually." Amy
shrugged her shoulders and said, "After seeing and talking
to Lindsay that night, though, I wanted to go out with her
instead. I wanted to fuck her so bad. I still remember
how tight her ass looked in those little work pants..."
Now, I was the one laughing. "And little did you know
that you would meet up with Lindsay again, too - the same
place you met up with me. Several thousand miles and two
whole years later, here we are. My final choice for coming
to the island was Lindsay. It was either her, or another
18-year-old girl from Missouri named Amber. I debated over
it for awhile, but chose Lindsay in the end. Lindsay lives
just eight miles away from where you and I went to school."
"Is that why you chose her instead of Amber?"
"Us Ohioans have to be stick together," I nodded. "Of
course, I haven't lived in Ohio since I was 12. Lindsay
was a little baby back then. I've lived in Ohio, New Jersey,
California, Oregon and now, of course, this island. But I
will always think of myself as an Ohioan. I was born there
and, more importantly, most of my family lives there today.
My mother, sister, oldest brother... cousins, aunts, and so
forth. My other brother lives next door in Kentucky."
"I was raised as an only child," Amy pouted. "I think I
was a mistake. I think my mother and father never wanted to
have kids. After I was born, my father got a vasectomy."
"How old was he?"
"24 at the time."
I cringed at those words. "I can see where you say that
they did not want to have kids. Your father getting a
vasectomy so young. Were they... good parents for you?"
Amy shook her head. "Not really. I cannot say that my
mom and dad ever did anything wrong to me, or mistreated me.
But they weren't there for me, either. I pretty much grew
up alone. I was a latch-key kid from the third grade on. I
was cooking and taking care of myself at a very early age.
It was a very lonely existance at times..."
"My father got a vasectomy after I was born, too," I told
her. "Difference was, though, I was their fourth child, and
he was 35. They did not want to have anymore children." I
paused, lost in thought for a moment. "Actually, I guess I
was their fifth child. The fourth was stillborn in 1966,
eight years before me. Never had a chance."
"Stillborn?"
"Means that the baby was dead before delivery." Amy
groaned as I concluded, "I missed out on a second sister."
Amy frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that, Jeremy."
I decided to lighten the subject. "I think it was the
second grade when my father went out and bought me a whole
bunch of _Strawberry Shortcake_ Christmas cards to give to
all the kids in our class." Amy sighed and huffed wildly in
response as I added, "Problem was, _Strawberry Shortcake_
was a doll for girls only. My father did not know that. I
wound up giving those stupid cards to everyone in our class.
All of the other boys made fun of me - saying I liked to
play with dolls." I chuckled at the memory. "It was BAD."
"I had a couple of _Strawberry Shortcake_ dolls," Amy
recalled. "Oh my God... I haven't thought about them in
YEARS. I had _Strawberry Shortcake_ herself, _Custard the
cat_, _Huckleberry Pie_, _Hopsalot Bunny_ and _Frappe the
frog_. I think I also had _Apple Dumpling_ and _Tea Time
Turtle_." Amy shook her head and giggled. "I wonder what
happened to all my dolls from when I was younger. Probably
threw all of them into the garbage. I wish I kept them."
"Why is that?"
"They would be collector's items today," Amy commented.
"Worth a whole lot of money, you know. What type of toys
did you have back in those days, Jeremy?"
"_G.I. Joe_ and _Transformers_," I mused. "I grew up with
the _Transformers_. _Optimus Prime_ was my hero. He was the
leader of the Autobots." I laughed again. "I cannot believe
that we are sitting here, Amy, talking about childhood toys.
Of all the things we could be discussing, THIS is it..."
"This is neat, though!" Amy squealed. "This is bringing
back so many memories for me! Second grass with our teacher,
Mrs. Nicholson, my friend Traci, all of my toys and dolls. I
only wish that you stayed in Ohio, Jeremy, and you and I went
to high school together. I would have definitely noticed you
then. I would have been after you big-time! But you said
that you moved to New Jersey in the seventh grade."
I grinned at her words. "Were you wild and adventurous
in high school like you are now? I heard that you have five
boyfriends back home, right now, who gang-bang you each and
every weekend. Were you like that in high school, too?"
Amy giggled. "The school basketball team had a nickname
for me - _B.J._ I went out with all of them. Sometimes, I
went out with two of them at a time. Or even three."
"I would have wanted you for myself," I told her.
"Really?" Amy cooed. "You like me that much?"
"I wouldn't want my girlfriend fooling around with other
guys," I explained. "Other girls, yes... that would be cool.
I could live with that. But not other guys."
Amy shrugged her shoulders. "I've just never found the
man who could make me settle down into a truly monogamous
relationship, where I would be content and happy forever. I
do not think that I will ever find that man..."
"What about your ex-husband?"
"I didn't love him and he didn't love me," Amy sniped.
"His name was Eddie, and he was black. The only reason I
married him - I know this sounds bad on my part, but it is
the truth - is because he had a 12 inch cock."
I shifted about in the lounge chair at poolside, suddenly
feeling small and very inferior. "12 inches? R-Really?"
"The sex between us was incredible at first, but it got
to the point over time where Eddie could no longer satisfy
me," Amy added. "That is when I started to stray, and have
sex with others. It led to the destruction of our marriage."
"Did Eddie love you?"
Amy shook her head. "No, he married me for the very same
reason I married him - the sex. Being a black man, I was a
trophy to him. A white trophy. You know that all black men
consider white girlfriends or wives to be a badge of honor.
I was a badge of honor to Eddie. A trophy. A WHITE trophy."
"If a man has 12 full inches and STILL cannot satisfy you,
Amy... is it even possible to satisfy you?"
"Total satisfaction goes much deeper than sex," she said.
"If someone really loved me, cared for me... and I felt the
same, exact way for him, I would be faithful. I would be
totally monogamous and committed to a one-on-one type of
relationship." Amy shrugged her shoulders and sighed deeply.
"You see, Jeremy... I've never really, truly been in love.
And... I do not think anyone has ever been in love with me.
In fact, I know that no one has."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Why do you say that?"
Amy shrugged her shoulders once again, then offered a
nonchalant expression. "I think it is because no one,
besides maybe my ex-husband, really ever took the time to
get to know me as a person. Having sex and getting it has
always been so important to me. I guess maybe I developed
a reputation for those who have known me throughout the
years, and have never been able to shake it."
"What reputation is that?"
"That I'm a slut," Amy replied. "A nymphomaniac. Someone
who cares about one thing, and one thing only - fucking. No
one, I think, has ever taken me seriously because of it."
"Have you given anyone a reason to take you seriously?"
Amy hesitated for a moment, then frowned. "I guess not."
"I take you seriously, Amy," I told her. "You and I have
had a neat discussion these past 10 or 15 minutes. Second
grade, Mrs. Nicholson, _Strawberry Shortcake_ dolls... I
enjoy discussions like this. I really do. Sex is wonderful.
I am the first person to admit that. But there is more to
life than sex. I think that you need to realize that."
"But fucking is the only thing that I'm good at..."
"Oh... stop it, Amy," I chided her. "You're better than
that. I know it, and you know it."
"I think what you and Pamela are developing with each
other is very, very special," Amy said. Pamela? Oh, right,
I told myself. I had been so focused upon Devon lately that
I temporarily forgot that Pamela was one of my favorites,
too. "I wish that I could have that type of relationship."
"You can," I countered. "All you need to do is open
yourself up, and let others see the real person inside of
you. Not the nymphomaniac that you claim to be."
"Just exactly who is the REAL person inside of me?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I don't really
believe that I have met her yet. But I would like to..."
Amy gulped her throat. "I'm really not sure if I know
who that person is myself."
"May I ask you a personal question?"
Amy shrugged her shoulders. "Sure."
"How did you lose your virginity? Who was it with?"
Amy's narrowed her eyes as she looked back at me. "Why
would you ask me something like that?"
I shook my head. "Just curious is all."
"With my neighbor when I was 14," she offered. "I left
my house keys at school one day by accident... had no other
way to get in. I asked my neighbor if I could stay with him
for a few hours until my parents got home from work."
"Neighbor the same age as you?"
"He was 42."
I coughed and nearly choked at the realization. "You had
sex with a 42-year-old man if you were 14? _14_?"
"Well, he was really nice," Amy defended herself. "I knew
that he liked me. He used to watch me go swimming in my pool
from his window each summer. We got to talking that one day
I stayed with him, one thing led to another and soon we..."
"I'm very sorry, but I don't want to hear about how a
42-year-old man went about taking advantage of you when you
were 14 and still a virgin," I said, cutting her words off.
Amy crinkled her nose at me. "Well, you are the one who
asked how I lost my virginity. All I did was answer your
question." Was Amy offended that I cut her off like I did?
Her arms suddenly folded, it sure did seem that way.
"I'm sorry, dear," I frowned. "You're right, and I am
wrong. I just don't like hearing of stories like that."
"Why did you want to know about when I lost my virginity?"
"Really just wanted to know if it was special or not," I
informed her. I paused, contemplating things for a moment.
"You've had sex with over 50 people in your young life, Amy.
You have five boyfriends, all of whom are black, at home in
Ohio who like to gang-bang you every weekend. Seems to me
that your marriage to Eddie was nothing but a big mistake."
I took a deep breath and shook my head. "You have led a
very hard life, Amy. Haven't you?"
She seemed agitated with me. "What's your point?"
"I just think that, down-deep, you are better than this."
"Better than WHAT?"
"I'm not trying to make you angry, sweetheart. You said
that no one takes you seriously. You wish you could have a
relationship like the one I am trying to build with Pamela.
Those are your own words. Wasn't it fun to just sit here
and TALK with me a few minutes ago? Talk about what it was
like in second grade, _Strawberry Shortcake_ dolls? Wasn't
it fun to sit here and have a discussion with no sexual
overtones whatsoever? You have it in you, Amy."
"Have what in me?"
"The ability to do that," I stressed. "The ability to
make people laugh at what you say. The ability to make
people be interested in you for something other than sex."
Amy still appeared to be agitated with me, so I trapped her
right hand between both of my palms and brought it to my
lips. After planting a kiss upon the tips of her fingers, I
looked deep into her eyes and reiterated, "I'm not trying to
make you mad, Amy. I'm really not. I want to help you. I
want you to be happy. That is all I really want for you."
She tilted her head and offered me a disapproving glare.
"And just how exactly do I go about being happy in life?"
"I'm three months older than you, Amy. I have been
unhappy and depressed almost my whole, entire life - for a
wide variety of reasons. I realized awhile back that there
were certain things that I had to change about my life, or I
would never have the chance of being happy. That is one
reason why you and all of the other girls are here right now.
This past week with all of you in my life has made me happier
than I have ever felt before. I had spent the last eight
years all by myself, in total isolation. For that to change,
_I_ had to change. I had to take the initiative."
"What exactly are you saying?"
I kissed her fingertips again. "You want to be happy,
Miss Amy. You want others to take you seriously. You want
others to like you for the person that is inside of you.
That will never happen unless you give people a REASON to
take you seriously, or a reason to like you for the person
that is inside of you." I shrugged my shoulders at her.
"Remember last Tuesday? Your second day here?"
"Yeah..."
"We all know that Lindsay is very shy, very humble, Amy.
Lindsay was very nervous her first couple of days here, too.
Yet there you are, before breakfast Tuesday morning, talking
to Lindsay in a fashion that you should not have been doing.
What was it? You asked her if she had ever thought about
becoming a stripper like Pamela is. You told the girl to
her face that you would pay her if you could have sex with
her." I shook my head and added, "Amy, the girl was a
virgin. You knew that. Very shy, humble, religious. You
did not set a very good example for yourself with the others
that day. After hearing that, most people would not even
want to get to know you as a person. Lindsay is this very
sheltered girl from a small town. Yet you tease her about
becoming a stripper, you insinuate prostitution with her."
I took a deep breath. "Do you understand what I am saying
to you? You want people to like you as a person. In order
to do that, you HAVE to do things that will draw people to
you. What you said to Lindsay that day, though... all it
did was push the other girls further away from you. They
will not take you seriously if you do things like that."
Amy's expression was lifeless as she stared back at me
for several seconds, her eyes empty. "I... I've been this
way my whole life. I... I can't change."
"Yes you can," I insisted. "There is nothing wrong with
being a little wild, a little kinky, and enjoying sex.
Nothing wrong at all. But you have to control yourself.
YOU have to watch what you say to others, Amy. Don't let
sex rule your life. You even told me earlier that sex is
the only thing that you are good at." I shook my head at
her and implored, "Both you and I know that is not true."
"What else am I good at then?"
"Amy, we were talking about second grade and the toys we
played with while growing up," I reminded her. "You made ME
laugh. You made ME feel good. Nothing we spoke of had any
sexual overtones to it. We were having a good, little
discussion. I enjoyed that. I enjoyed talking to you that
way. I saw a glimpse of the person that is inside of you.
I liked her, Amy. Let the others see that side of you."
Amy laughed. "I don't know, Jeremy, whether I should be
angry at you for saying all of this crazy stuff to me, or if
I should be grateful that you're trying to help."
I released her hand from my grasp. "All I am doing, Amy,
is trying to help. One thing you will learn about me is
that I am incredibly up-front and honest. I've been more
honest than I really should have been with Devon, Pamela,
even Trish. And now you, of course. Amy, I don't like you
telling me that no one takes you seriously or that the only
thing you are good at is sex. That is why I said all of
these things to you. I gave you my opinion. You have the
ability to change whatever is wrong in your life. Before
that happens, though, you have to give the effort."
Amy glanced downward as if she feeling hollow inside. "I
have never been in love with anyone, my whole life."
"Not even your ex-husband..."
Amy laughed in a negative manner. "Definitely not Eddie.
All it was with him was sex. All it has ever been with
anyone for me is sex. Devon, Pamela, Stephanie..."
"You can have sex and love at the same time," I told her.
"Look at Trish and Lindsay. They are ALL OVER each other.
Yet, at the same time, Trish and Lindsay are in love."
"Trish is in love with Lindsay," Amy commented. "Not the
other way around." I was about to respond to those words and
ask what they were based on, but Amy spoke up before me. "I
want someone to look at me the same way that Pamela seems to
look at you, Jeremy. Pamela was telling me before breakfast
that you are the nicest guy she has ever met. It was like
she was glowing. Just glowing. Floating in the clouds."
"Oh?" I asked. "What can you tell me about Pamela, Amy?
You have spent more time with her than anyone thus far."
"What do you want to know?"
"What do you think of her as a person?"
"Pamela is very quiet, very reserved," Amy replied. "Not
a whole lot fazes her. I think she has probably seen it all
being a stripper for so long, and maybe put up a protective
barrier around herself. I also think she is depressed."
My eyes were narrow as I countered, "Depressed?"
Amy laughed. "I don't think she is depressed now because
you are in her life, Jeremy." Amy settled down and shrugged
her shoulders. "But overall, yes, I think she is depressed.
Just hearing her talk at night about her life. How she
wants to get married, but can't trust anyone. How she loves
kids, but questions whether or not she will ever have any.
How she sits at home and reads a book while her sister, who
lives with her, goes out with guy after guy each night."
"She can't trust anyone?"
"Being a stripper for nine years has ruined her image of
people," Amy explained, those words reminding me of my long
discussion with Kristanna after dinner the other evening.
Kristanna referred to Pamela as a _wayward stripper who lost
her grasp on reality_. Did Amy have that same perception?
"Pamela sees the dark side of men every single time that
she goes to work," Amy added. "Men come to that strip club
where she works and get drunk. They get plastered. Men go
there without their wife even knowing about it. They tell
Pamela things like _I'd drop my wife in a second for you_.
They are loud, rowdy and obnoxious. They are also vulgar and
disrespectful. Pamela has to put up with that every night."
Amy shook her head. "So when a nice guy comes up to Pamela
on the street in the middle of the day and just wants to be
friendly, she cannot trust him. Even though the guy has no
idea that she is a stripper, Pamela cannot allow herself to
trust him. She sees guys who look just like he does every
single night that she works drunk, loud and disrespectful.
She can imagine that nice guy on the street as one of those
guys at the club that she degrades herself to."
Stunned by that explanation, I countered, "How do you
know all of that, Amy? Did Pamela tell it to you?"
Amy nodded her head. "Yes, she most certainly did."
"Does Pamela... does she... trust me?"
"So far, yes," Amy responded. "She is starting to, I
think. It is easy with you though, Jeremy. You are the
nicest guy I have ever met, too. Any of us have ever met.
And your friend, Kristanna, has nothing but good things to
say about you. She's known you for five years. I think it
says something that she flies all the way from Norway to
Peru, and then back, to be with you one week every month. I
had a hard enough time from Cincinnati to Miami, not to
mention Miami to Peru. Kristanna flies double, triple that.
I think it says something about you. Pamela thinks it says
something. Kristanna is this sweet and cheerful girl. She
probably has guys beating down her door in Norway to go out
with her. But she flies here once a month to be with you.
And she has nothing but good things to say about you, Jeremy.
She told Pamela awhile ago that she would never meet a more
kind and loving man than you. But I think Pamela knows that
already, all by herself. Kristanna was just confirming it."
"Pamela is an incredibly special girl in my eyes, Amy," I
confessed. "And you can tell her I said that, too."
Amy shook her head. "She denies it - why I don't know -
but Kristanna is totally in love with you too, Jeremy."
"WHAT?" I asked, caught off-guard.
"Kristanna is in love with you," Amy reiterated. "I can
tell by the way that she looks at you, talks to you. It is
all in the body language. She is CRAZY about you, Jeremy."
* * *
Perhaps two or three hours after my discussion with Amy
had reached its conclusion, I was walking throughout the
mansion on this beautiful Tuesday afternoon when I heard a
series of feminine grunts and yelps emanating from the
spacious central room, which was located downstairs. I was
overly curious, naturally, and decided that it was time to
investigate. Thus, I descended the winding staircase.
Dressed in full workout garb, the duo of Kristanna and
Trish were honing their martial arts skills in a friendly
sparring match. In addition to their spandex outfits, the
two ladies wore protective equipment, including elbow and
knee pads, gloves, a chest protector and helmet. I could
tell that contact between them was being kept to a minimum,
but still, it was good they took safety precautions.
I had only been aware that Kristanna was an expert in an
Israeli form of the martial arts called _Krav Maga_ - a very
detailed and effective self-defense system - for a couple of
months. It was totally shocking to me - and I certainly do
not mean this in a negative way, of course - that a woman as
frail and light-weight as Kristanna (5-foot-11 and a mere
115 pounds at her height) could pack such a lethal punch.
Trish, the physical fitness enthusiast from Toronto,
looked a little more the part (5-foot-4 and 118 pounds of
feminine muscle). Trish was a student of the martial arts
as well, but her specialty was kickboxing. These two ladies
were a good fit together like this. Out of all the women on
the island, Trish was the only suitable sparring partner for
Kristanna because of her experience and background when it
came to controlled hand-to-hand combat.
As I stood at the bottom of the steps and watched them
trade a series of light (safe) kicks and chops, Kristanna
eventually noticed my presence and motioned for Trish to
cease. Kristanna slipped her helmet off, then shook her
head vigorously and smiled warmly at me. "Hi Jeremy!"
"Sweetheart," I nodded at her, turning my attention
toward Trish. The 28-year-old took her own helmet and
facemask off, then smiled at me as well. "Miss Trish."
"Hi," she greeted in a friendly manner.
Judging by the amount of perspiration upon the bodies of
both ladies, they had been practicing their skills for quite
some time here in the central room. Where was Lindsay? It
was rare for me to see Trish and Lindsay apart. Aside from
a few instances here and there, it seemed as if Trish and
Lindsay had been glued together since their arrival.
"Have yew come down to vatch us?" Kristanna wondered, her
exotic, sexy accent bringing a smile to my face.
"Sure, I can do that," I chuckled in response. "I have
wondered ever since I learned about this side of you, dear...
why? Why do you focus so much of your energy and free time
into learning and mastering _Krav Maga_? Forgive me, but you
just don't seem the type cut out for this sort of stuff."
"Oh really?" Kristanna countered in a defensive tone,
placing both hands upon her hips and looking at me. "Come
over here for a second, Mister Jeremy."
"She's likely an expert in _Krav Maga_ to protect herself
from guys like you," Trish suggested, being playful.
Once I made my way over to Kristanna - just as she asked
me to - the gorgeous blonde suddenly reached out and grabbed
my left wrist. In the blink of an eye, she pulled me toward
her, and then I found myself flat on my back. Kristanna had
knocked my legs out from underneath me with a sweeping kick,
then shoved me backward - causing me to fall down - with a
hard forearm upon my upper chest.
Trish laughed and clapped her hands together in glee. "I
want to be that good one day!"
Disoriented for a moment, to say the least, I gulped my
throat and stared up at Kristanna in a mixture of shock and
awe. The Norwegian snickered in triumph, then placed her
bare foot upon my exposed throat and held it there gently.
"Do yew still dink I am not capable enough?"
"I never said that," I returned, once again gulping my
throat. Kristanna did not injure me physically, but her
sudden take-down maneuver still had my head spinning. I
could not believe the speed and ferocity of it. I was a
good 100 pounds heavier than her, yet she had treated me
like a rag-doll anyway. "All I said was that you don't seem
to be the type for it. That's all. Instead of a deadly
enforcer, you seem to be more the model type."
Kristanna laughed and slowly removed her bare foot from
my throat. I then reached up with both hands and grasped
that pretty foot, and held it just inches from my face. "If
I ever need a bodyguard, sweetheart, the job is yours."
Kristanna snickered once more as I tilted my head upward
and planted a gentle kiss upon her big toe. I did the same
for the arch of her foot, then its heel. "I like dat!" she
squealed in response, wiggling all five of her slender toes.
Trish reached down with both hands and grasped my right
arm, then helped pull me up to my feet. Kristanna smiled and
brushed up against me, then offered my lips a whispery kiss.
"Vould yew still like to stay and vatch us spar, Jeremy?"
"I don't think so," I told her, shaking my head. "I do
not want to get caught in the crossfire." Kristanna let out
an exaggerated laugh as I added, "Maybe it's best that I go
someplace else. Anywhere else. Away from you two ladies."
"Girl power!" Trish exclaimed, again being playful, as I
turned and quickly ascended the nearby staircase.
I am not quite certain whether or not my ego was bruised,
but I definitely felt the need to leave Kristanna and Trish
by themselves to do their thing. That was the first physical
confrontation that I had been involved in - playful or real -
in 14 years. I last recall getting into a fight when I was
16 years of age. It involved a dispute over baseball cards.
It felt somewhat eerie to realize that if Kristanna truly
wanted, she could take me out without exerting much effort
at all. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head at the
mere thought. I would just have to stay on Kristanna's good
side from now on. Did I really have any other choice?
On the flipside, Kristanna's prowess in the martial arts
was something that I should not really concern myself with.
It was wonderful that she could defend herself in any kind
of physical situation. Could anyone blame Kristanna for
having such a vested interest in hand-to-hand combat? Young
women, especially those as charming and beautiful as my dear
and good friend, really need to know how to defend themselves
from the cruel predators in today's world.
Still, I had no reason to think all that much about this.
Certainly, I should not harbor any negative feelings about
this. But as I said earlier, I just found it... eerie, that
a woman such as Kristanna - who was very thin and looked so
fragile - could make mince-meat of me in seconds if she so
desired. It was a very difficult concept for me to grasp.
"Is everything okay?"
Startled by that unsuspected voice, I quickly glanced
over to the side - toward its origin - and was rewarded with
the sight of the very captivating and vivacious Pamela. I
shook my head as if to clear the cobwebs, then offered her
quite the dumbfounded expression.
"Everything okay?" I countered. "Everything is fine."
"Oh," she said, stepping toward me. "Well, the reason I
asked is because it looks like you just saw a ghost."
I chuckled lightly. "Oh... yeah. Actually, I was just
downstairs with Kristanna and Trish. Kristanna showed me a
karate move or two. Still reeling from it."
Pamela looked confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Doesn't matter," I responded, wrapping both of my arms
around this intoxicating creature and embracing her warmly.
Pamela giggled for a brief moment, then slid her loving arms
around my body as well. "How are you doing, sweetheart?" I
asked her. "I haven't seen you since breakfast earlier."
Pamela retreated from my embrace and smiled at me. "Just
fine, Jeremy. Just fine. How about you?"
"Wonderful." The primary reason for that, of course, was
because I found myself with Pamela right now.
I retreated a single step and took in the wondrous beauty
of this alluring woman. Pamela wore a sleeveless yellow top
that was not only extremely bright in color, but also ended
several inches below her midriff. In addition, Pamela had
on a pair of matching yellow shorts which did an excellent
job of highlighting her firm, tanned legs. Much like the
top, Pamela's shorts were a very tight and clingy fit. To
complete her outfit, she wore a pair of white sneakers.
Mere words could never accurately describe just how good
Pamela looked in that popsicle color of yellow. The shape
and contour of her large breasts - hidden beneath the tight,
adhering fabric of her sleeveless top - looked titillating.
Ditto for her ass, which appeared so very taut and ripe
underneath the flashy exterior of those yellow shorts.
"Can I tell you something that you already know?"
"What?" the blonde inquired.
"You look... fabulous."
"Oh... thank you, Jeremy!" She closed the short distance
between us and placed a hand upon my wrist. "Actually, you
are JUST the man that I am looking for."
"I'm the only man here."
Pamela giggled again. "That's true. But I wanted to ask
for a big favor - if you would get me a bicycle out of the
storage shed outside. You said there are plenty locked up
out there, right? I haven't rode a bike in ten years."
"You want to go on a bike ride?"
Pamela gave me a military salute. "Yes sir."
I held up a single finger and grinned, "One condition."
"What's that?"
"Let me go on the bike ride with you," was my request.
"That is, if you don't mind me tagging along..."
"Not at all. I'd love that."
I reached out and placed my hand upon the back of Pamela's
right shoulder. I gave a little nudge, then motioned for her
to walk with me toward the door that led outside here in the
front room. When she did, I tilted my head and gazed at her
as we slowly strolled along. "You haven't taken a bicycle
ride in ten years, Miss Pamela? How can that possibly be?"
Pamela shrugged her shoulders. "It's a lot easier to
drive a car, I guess."
"Not near as fun, though," I told her. "I take a bike
out and go riding every week. I have for years." Once we
reached the front door, I moved ahead of Pamela and opened
it for her. "Do you have any particular idea where you want
to go? I have all sorts of bikes - freeride, racing, sport,
hybrids... others. Where do you want to ride?"
"I was thinking of the access roads, but I wouldn't mind
hitting the dirt trails in the forest, too."
I nodded my head. "A mountain bike sounds good for you."
Keys in hand, I escorted Pamela over to the storage shed
located adjacent from the mansion and unlocked its door. I
flipped on the overhead light and debated within my mind
which bicycle would be the best bet for Pamela. Ultimately,
I suggested the _Litespeed Unicoi XTR_, a bicycle designed
for mountainous, rugged terrain. It was a smaller frame
model, thus making it perfect for a woman Pamela's size.
I chose a similar ride for myself in perhaps my favorite
bicycle of all, the _Cannondale Scalpel 3000_. It was very
light-weight (only 4.5 pounds) and was the fastest bicycle
that I had ever rode on my entire life. One of nine bicycles
that I owned specifically for myself - no one else could ride
these - the _Cannondale Scalpel 3000_ was my choice whenever
I felt like trekking throughout the forest.
I offered Pamela a helmet and pair of trail gloves, then
filled up our respective water bottles at the sink. Finally,
it was time to hit the road. After I locked the shed, Pamela
and I hopped onto our respective bicycles and were ready to
venture out into the wild blue yonder. Aside from Kristanna,
this would be the first time that I had some company on a
bicycle ride in several years. I was going to enjoy myself.
"Do you remember how to ride a bike?" I asked Pamela, as
she wobbled about and seemed to struggle with her balance.
Teasing her, I added, "Need some training wheels?"
"Oh, I'll be okay," she assured me, only needing a few
seconds to steady herself and feel comfortable, and at ease.
"There. You never forgot how to ride a bike, Jeremy." The
28-year-old shot quickly ahead of me on the road. "Hey...
this thing rides like a dream!"
"It should, considering how much it cost," I yelled back.
* * *
The exotic smell of over-ripe guava was in the air, while
sunlight pierced the forest canopy and danced on the flora
all around us as Pamela and I carefully negotiated our way
on the bicycles through ginger patches and blooming orchids.
An opening in the thick vegetation provided a stunning view
of the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean, contrasting with
the many shades of green. Overhead, colorful native birds
fluttered about from tree to tree while singing their lovely
melodies of joy. With a cool breeze in my face and the sun
upon my back, this was island living at its very best.
These lush slopes on the southwestern side of the island
harbored many miles of dirt track that eventually gave way
to volcanic cinder road. Soon, the path was leading us up a
hill that became quite arduous to climb. Thus, Pamela and I
found ourselves walking the bicycles instead of riding them.
"Does this trail lead to any particular place?"
"The cliffs are just up ahead," I told Pamela in response.
"I think that you will enjoy the view they offer."
"I don't doubt you," she commented. "Nine days into this
vacation and I haven't found one thing about this island of
yours that doesn't fascinate or astonish me. The mansion
and all of the many gadgets you have in it, the beaches, the
ocean, the forest... everything. It's all fascinating."
"Do you ever go to the beach in Maryland?"
"Sometimes," she answered. "They are always so crowded
when the weather is nice, though, so I usually just decide
to stay away. Candace goes to the beach a lot."
"Candace... your younger sister who lives with you?"
Pamela nodded. "Yes."
"Why not go with her?"
"I really don't like the beaches there," she said. "The
water is polluted, people are out in droves and, believe it
or not, my body in a bikini seems to attract the guys. I
get hit on every single time that I go there."
"NOOOOO!" I huffed, insinuating (in a playful tone) that
she was lying to me. "You get hit on? Gee, I wonder why?"
Pamela shook her head in a negative manner as we walked
our bicycles up the pathway. "I don't like being hit on.
It reminds me too much of work."
"You need to get out of that place, Pamela," I insisted.
"You are SO MUCH better than that. You are incredibly smart
and have the IQ - 154 - of a genius. You are obviously a
very good and engaging person to be around when you are in
your comfort zone. You don't need to be a stripper."
"Amy told me that you tried to talking to her earlier,
telling her what to do with her life too," Pamela remarked.
"I did not try to tell Amy what to do with her life," was
my defense. "I tried giving her some advice. Not because I
am trying to control her, or tell her what to do. The only
thing I want is for Amy to be happy, no matter what she does
with her life. The same applies to you and everyone else
here. I do not think that Amy is happy and from what you
have told me this past week, Pamela, neither are you. That
job of yours makes you feel miserable inside."
Pamela frowned. "I would like to get out, I guess, but
the money is too good. Maybe there is a light at the end of
the tunnel for me, though. I have one more year of college
to go before I get my teaching degree."
"I think underneath that exterior of yours is an extremely
loving and caring person," I told her, smiling. "Personally,
I think that you would make an excellent teacher. Although,
I hope you do not plan on teaching high school. All of the
boys in your classes would continually lust after you."
"I want to teach at a lower level," she informed me. "No
higher than grade school... maybe even kindergarten."
"I remember that you said you love kids."
Pamela nodded her head. "I want to be a mother SO much.
I want to get married and have a family more than anything.
That would definitely make me happy."
"Here we are," I said, motioning for Pamela to take a
good look at what lay ahead of us.
"Oh wow..." Pamela gushed, suddenly awestruck, as she
dropped her bicycle and ran over to the edge of the cliff.
The awesome scenery and a kaleidoscope of landscapes atop
this 3,218-foot windswept perch had, quite obviously, caught
Pamela's appreciative eyes. With clean air and the pristine
ocean below, it was easy for Pamela to drink in the freshness
of panoramic views. Lush gulches and mountains extended in
several directions, with the sheer, green cliff wall directly
beneath her dropping into brilliant turquoise waters.
"Look!" Pamela exclaimed, suddenly hopping about, as she
pointed toward something off in the distance.
"What is it?" I asked, rushing to her side.
"It's a Humpback Whale!" Still pointing, Pamela soon
began hopping again. "Oh look... a baby whale, too! It
must be a mommy whale and her baby!"
Pamela was obviously excited - and for good reason. I
stood beside her and admired the majestic sight of a mother
Humpback and a lone calf thousands of feet below us, basking
and gliding about just beneath the surface of the ocean.
Squealing with delight, Pamela clapped her hands together
when the larger whale sprang completely out of the water and
arched its massive torso, then dove right in back head-first.
The mother whale then floated upon its side and extended its
pectoral fin skyward for several seconds, before traveling
into the depths of the ocean and eventually disappearing.
The younger whale, of course, followed its mother.
"Oh... come back!" Pamela whined, now clutching my wrists
with both of her hands. "Please come back, mommy whale and
baby whale! I want to watch you two play some more!"
"Probably just came up for a breath or two," I speculated.
"It is strange to see a Humpback Whale in this part of the
Pacific, though. Usually, they are in the waters between
Hawaii and Alaska. Maybe those two strayed?"
"Awwwww..." Pamela frowned, now resigned to the fact that
the two whales were indeed gone. "Have you seen any other
whales in the waters here over the years, Jeremy?"
"A couple of Humpbacks," I nodded. "Mostly, the ones
around here are Blue, Southern Right and Sperm Whales."
Pamela was giggling. "SPERM WHALES? Are you serious?"
I caught onto her joke and was laughing as well. "Yes,
Sperm Whales. I'm not making that up." I offered her a
peculiar look. "You've never heard of Sperm Whales?"
She shook her head. "No, I sure haven't. You're not
kidding, huh? Do you know where they get their name from?"
"I think they produce some sort of wax substance which
comes out of their blowhole," was my best guess. "You're
the library girl, right Pamela? You love to read? I am
sure that you have read _Moby Dick_, right?" She nodded as
I added, "_Moby Dick_, in the book, was a Sperm Whale."
"I haven't read that book since I was like nine or ten,"
Pamela countered. "Back then, I had no reason to think
anything of the term SPERM Whale. Otherwise, I am certain
that I would have remembered it." She giggled again. "It
makes sense, though. _Moby Dick_ being a Sperm Whale...
dick, sperm... get it?"
"Don't go getting naughty on me now," I grinned. When
Pamela took her bicycling helmet off and tossed it to the
ground, I smiled at her again. "You like the views atop
this cliff, huh? Want to stay here for awhile?"
"If you don't mind."
"Not at all. Not at all..." I retrieved Pamela's water
bottle from her bicycle and gave it to her. As she took a
healthy swig, I reached out and grasped her free hand. "You
have to admit something, dear."
"What's that?"
"This island sure beats living in Maryland."
Pamela laughed. "Or anywhere else!" She gazed out at the
tropical paradise before her. "This place is like a dream."
I deftly slid behind Pamela and wrapped both of my arms
around her waistline. I offered her a little squeeze and
placed my chin upon the top of her right shoulder. "You are
what is like a dream, Pamela. Not this island, but you."
Instead of replying verbally, Pamela simply let out a
content, pleasurable moan and covered both of my hands at
her stomach with her own. As she gazed out at the ocean, I
planted a series of angel kisses upon the exposed portion of
her neck. Pamela wiggled her hips for a brief moment, then
jutted her shapely ass upon my pelvis in a playful manner.
That subtle move caused my cock to twitch with excitement.
Glancing over her shoulder at me, Pamela reached back with
her left hand and gently massaged my shaft through the shorts
that I had on. Giggling again, Pamela pecked the tip of my
nose with a kiss. "The best part of this island, Jeremy, is
you." She shook her and then cooed, "Without a doubt."
I placed one hand upon her hip and the other upon her
left breast, cupping and kneading it through the skin-tight
yellow top which she wore. "You drive me crazy, sweetie."
Still looking over her shoulder at me, I sought Pamela's
lips with my own and the two of us shared a very deep and
slow-moving, languid kiss. When it was over, I peppered
various spots, including her eyes, eyebrows, nose, cheeks
and forehead with a series of light, loving kisses. Soon,
my right hand slid upward and found a big, luscious breast.
It joined my left hand as I now eagerly groped and mauled
Pamela's breasts. I could definitely get used to this.
I released my grip upon Pamela's body when she began to
wiggle and squirm about. Gazing directly into my eyes, the
28-year-old enchantress then latched her hand onto my wrist
and slowly guided me away from the edge of the cliff. Soon,
she removed her bicycling gloves and tossed them elsewhere.
Her water bottle was now a distant memory, too.
I gulped my throat and sighed with pure arousal as Pamela
closed the distance between us and pressed her awesome body
upon mine a very suggestive manner. Next a growl emanated
from me as Pamela once again found the pulsating lump in my
shorts with her right hand. She immediately began stroking.
"I want you, Jeremy," the gorgeous vixen purred, her voice
soft and sensuous. "I want you right now."
Pamela paused for a moment, her eyes trained upon my face,
then pressed her lips to mine and kissed me in the most
tender of fashions. Yet within my body, it felt like a
series of earthquakes and subsequent aftershocks were taking
place. I was attracted to Pamela so very much! I wanted to
luxuriate and revel in that remarkable body of hers. God, I
said inwardly. Her mouth tasted wonderful through our kiss.
"Hmmmmm..." Pamela moaned, grinning, withdrawing her lips
from mine for a brief second. She heightened the intensity
upon my cock, however, gripping and squeezing it roughly
through the pair of cargo shorts I wore.
She offered me another kiss, then pulled back and studied
my face for a moment. I am quite positive that Pamela saw a
look of unequaled lust in my eyes. She must have enjoyed it,
too, because her lips were soon kissing mine again.
"Oh God..." I groaned against our kiss, as she unbuttoned
my shorts and dug her right hand down deep into them. A
sudden rush of pleasure vibrated throughout my body as Pamela
then slid that hand into my briefs, and found the naked
flesh of my throbbing cock. Pamela busily frigged it while
slipping her warm, soft tongue into my mouth for a taste.
With her left hand, Pamela grasped my right and pulled it
toward one of her large, heavenly breasts. She placed my
hand upon it and offered a soft nudge, which instinctively
caused me to cup and squeeze the full mound of flesh.
"Hmmmmm... that's it," Pamela encouraged me. "Touch me,
Jeremy." She rolled her head in circles and added, "You like
touching me there? Do you like touching my breasts?"
"God, yes!" I growled in response, my eyes wide and glazed
over with total passion. "I love every single inch of you!"
My senses were alive with emotion and desire. I wanted to
sink myself into this woman so bad, and become lost in her.
Just completely lost in her - and never find my way out.
Everything about Pamela seemed like a fantasy to me.
After another loving, tongue-filled kiss, Pamela took a
step back and offered me a playful smile. She then pecked
my cheek with her lips and slinked her way down to my neck.
Shivers resulted as she nibbled upon the sensitive skin of
my neck, her hand still frigging my erection. My hand,
however, seemed to lose contact with her large breast.
Then, I growled like a madman as Pamela slowly but surely
dropped to her knees in front of me. She reached upward and
placed her right hand upon my chest, then trailed it all the
way down to my waist in a very teasing, sensuous manner.
"I've been waiting for this very moment to happen ever
since, well... the last time I gave you a blowjob," Pamela
swooned. She pulled my shaft out of my shorts and allowed
it to wobble about in front of her adoring eyes. "I need
your cock so bad. I'm so hungry. Feed me, Jeremy..."
"Oh God..." I moaned, as Pamela latched onto my shaft
with her right hand and squeezed it firmly.
"I've never needed anyone in my life more than I need you
right now," she added, an instant before opening her mouth
and literally swallowing the full length of my cock into it.
I tossed my head back and moaned wildly as Pamela began to
bob back-and-forth upon my aching member, her hot tongue and
mouth working my entire body into a delirious frenzy.
Perched upon her knees atop this high-steeped cliff with
panoramic views in every direction, Pamela was absolutely
ravenous and insatiable - her lush, velvety mouth gliding
back-and-forth upon my erection as if this were her first
meal in days. Pamela was like a wild animal!
Sounds of pure passion and hunger were coming from deep
within her throat as her blonde head continued on with its
wicked, non-stop bobbing motion. Soon, I had to take a step
back and lean against my propped-up bicycle. Without its
support, I may have toppled over. There were many emotions
running throughout my body at this moment in time. The only
reason for that, of course, was because I was with Pamela.
I had bestowed so much respect and class upon Pamela since
her arrival that, strange as it may sound, I no longer looked
at her as a sexual being. At least, I felt that way until
just moments ago. All I had wanted was to hold Pamela's hand
and tell her how special and unique of a woman she was to me.
She was so incredibly smart and such a well-mannered, classy
woman. Pamela was _so much better_ than your prototypical
exotic dancer. This woman deserved a better life.
Despite all of these good thoughts about Pamela, she was
now in the submissive position of being on her knees in front
of me - giving my cock the royal treatment with her mouth.
It seemed sort of ironic; I cared and genuinely thought of
Pamela as an actual person. Now, I wanted to ravage her
mouth with my cock, as well as her pussy and ass. I wanted
to rip Pamela apart and hear her scream in wild passion!
Pamela gripped the base of my shaft with her right hand
and squeezed it roughly, her pretty eyes flashing with hot
desire as she withdrew my length from the confines of her
mouth. The young woman looked up at me and smiled warmly.
Now, Pamela seemed to know that she had me curled around her
finger. My body was about to burst in flames.
"Oh yeah," Pamela grinned, her hand now a blur as she
frigged my erection. "Are you gonna cum for me, big boy?
Are you gonna shoot it all over my face? Yes! Cum for me!
Come on, Jeremy... cum for me. Cum all over my face!"
"OHHHHH!" I roared out in arousal, as the first jet of
thick, gooey sperm erupted from within my shaft and landed
upon Pamela's forehead. The second quickly followed,
hitting her square in the nose. Pamela then took my cock
back into her mouth and sucked on it fiercely, coaxing the
third and fourth explosions in rapid-fire succession. It
all happened so fast, but was thoroughly satisfying.
"Hmmmmm," Pamela growled, her lips still wrapped tightly
around my shaft, as she squeezed every last ounce of sperm
out of it with her hand. Finally, Pamela withdrew my cock
from her mouth and offered me yet another winning smile.
The gobs of semen I had sprayed all over Pamela's face
had saturated it completely. Her face was covered with my
wet, sticky juices, and she obviously enjoyed the feeling.
I had _NEVER_ seen Pamela look quite this happy and vibrant.
She was _definitely_ floating in the clouds right now.
Pamela then displayed her playful, teasing side yet again,
this time slowly but surely lifting her little yellow top up,
and over her head, before twirling it about with her hand and
then tossing it to the side. Now topless, she smiled at me
once again while saying, "Isn't this fun, Jeremy?"
My eyes went wide and I nodded in response, but chose not
to say anything as I gazed down at her. _LOOK AT THAT BODY_.
That was now my only thought. That awesome body would look
real nice nestled all snug and tight against me every night
for the rest of my life. In my bed... as my wife. _YES_!
I moaned yet again as Pamela soon slid her yellow shorts
down her shapely hips and thighs, and eventually off. Her
white G-string came next, and now this wicked vixen stood
before me in nothing more than a pair of athletic sneakers.
Pamela had the enticing curves of a stripper, which was
quite fitting, because that was how she had made a living
for herself before ever stepping foot on this island. If
you combine that body of hers to her angelic face, with its
high cheekbones, lush mouth and truly hypnotic eyes, the end
result would be a pure visual aphrodisiac.
Even more importantly than that, however, Pamela obviously
felt a deep attraction for me as well. I harbored similar
feelings for her. How come it took us so long to meet up
with one another? How come I wasted away for nearly eight
years in total isolation on this island, while Pamela - who
seemed to be the perfect match for me - was out there in the
world? She had been waiting for me to rescue her from a bad
job and depressing life. Those thoughts flashed throughout
my mind in this very wild moment of unadulterated passion.
Pamela nodded her head at me and said, "I know what I
want, Jeremy, and you're gonna give it to me." She then
rose to her feet and turned her back to me.
Now glancing over her shoulder one more time, Pamela bent
over ever-so-slightly at the waist, jutting her magnificent
ass outward. She twitched her hips seductively, flaunting
that ass for my appreciative eyes, and spoke in her most
sultry, sexy tone, "Fuck me, Jeremy."
A tremendous amount of life and energy suddenly forged
its way into my cock. It was as if my shaft was a balloon,
and it was being pumped full of air by a helium machine.
Pamela's words and actions were the primary reason for that,
too. In fact, they were the sole reason.
Of all the women I had been with in my life - sexually
speaking - no one could even compare with Pamela in terms of
her teasing, yet aggressive words. She was a tremendous
talker when it came to sex - especially during penetration.
Pamela's mouth was literally non-stop, and she had always
conveyed the maximum amount of emotion with her words.
"Fuck me, Jeremy," the blonde purred, still glancing over
her shoulder at me, her hips rolling and undulating in a
slow, sizzling manner. "Come on... fuck me. Put your cock
in my pussy. Pound me with your cock! Do it! DO IT NOW!"
That was it.
With an animalistic growl, I stepped forward and latched
onto Pamela's hips with both hands, then thrusted my cock
hard and fast into the silken depths of her little pussy.
Pamela tensed up for a brief moment, then placed both hands
upon her kneecaps and held on tight, using them for support,
before glancing over her shoulder at me yet again.
"Fuck me, Jeremy!" she demanded. "FUCK ME NOW!"
I did not need any further coaxing. My hips were already
a blur as I hammered myself in-and-out of Pamela at a very
powerful, blazing rate of speed. And almost on cue, Pamela
began with her verbal tirade, which had never failed to get
me even more excited than I already was while with her.
"GOD, YES! YES! Fuck me! Fuck me! HMMMMM... pound me
with that big cock! Hurt me with it, Jeremy! Yes! FUCK
YES! OH GOD YES, FUCK ME! FUCK ME, JEREMY! FUCK ME!"
My whole body was seemingly in a different reality as I
drilled Pamela with every last ounce of strength I could
muster. I could not believe, at this time at least, how I
could have possibly survived without luxuriating in this
voluptuous body of hers for as long as I had. How could I
have lived 30 years without this woman in my life?
"HMMMMM... FEELS SO GOOD!" Pamela continued, her loud
cries and screams literally echoing throughout the forest.
"FEELS SO GOOD! YES! YES! FUCK ME! OH FUCK YES, THIS IS
WHAT I NEED! FUCK ME, JEREMY! YES! FUCK ME!"
The sound my pelvis made as it crashed hard into Pamela's
upturned ass with every forward stroke was violent, and
almost scary. I was certain that I had never pounded her
pussy with this type of excessive force before. I was not
afraid of hurting her, though. This was what Pamela wanted.
Of course, we were in the most naughty of positions, too.
Pamela's legs were widespread and she was bent at the waist,
holding onto her knees, as I battered into her from behind.
I was glad that we had this type of privacy...
"You know what, Jeremy?" my sweetheart asked, her voice
now low and controlled, yet still tented with erotic passion.
"I don't OHHHHH... I don't... I don't need any man in my
life except you! I don't WANT any man at all except YOU!"
In response to those words, my body received a new, even
greater burst of energy. Where it came from, I do not know.
But as a result, Pamela was the beneficiary.
"OH GOD, JEREMY! THAT FEELS SO GOOD! OH FUCK... YOU'RE
GONNA MAKE ME CUM! FUCK... YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME _CUMMMMM_!"
My breathing ragged, it felt as if my body was going to
spontaneously combust. My head literally in the clouds, I
gave Pamela everything I possibly could in terms of power
and effort. It was only a matter of seconds before her words
proved to be prophetic. Pamela screamed out in a wild, very
intense orgasm, while I lost grip of my own self-control.
The action hit its fever pitch once I pistoned my cock
into her swollen, little pussy one final time. An instant
later, I roared out - screaming at the top of my lungs -
while depositing a fresh batch of sperm into the blonde's
exquisite pussy. I pumped my thick seed into her womb for
several seconds, while both of us continually rocked and
rumbled together in the throes of sweet orgasm and release.
Again, how could I have lived without Pamela for so long?
She was everything that I had ever fantasized about...
Before I knew what happened next, Pamela had dislodged
her pussy from my shaft and dutifully dropped to her knees.
She then swallowed my cock whole, and began to milk whatever
juices remained in it down her hungry, greedy throat.
Pamela then wrapped both arms around my waist and held on
tight even as I took a few steps back, so I could lean upon
my bicycle once again. Her mouth, of course, never released
its warm, slippery grip upon my relieved shaft.
I then took a deep breath and sighed in pure satisfaction,
while glancing downward and admiring Pamela's blonde head as
she still slurped away at my cock. I touched her head and
caressed it with my right hand, which caused her to look up
at me with an overwhelming sense of devotion in her eyes.
"We should call you _SPERM WHALE_ from now on, Jeremy!"
Pamela snickered, a thick, gooey strand of jizz dangling from
her chin in a very nasty, obscene manner. "Big sperm whale!"
"How about we call you _mommy whale_ from now on?" was my
breathless suggestion. "I will be the _daddy whale_."
"HMMMMM..." she groaned in response.
"Sounds like a good idea to me, too," I grinned.
As Pamela swallowed my deflated shaft and began working
it over with her mouth once again, all of a sudden, my whole
body felt numb. My legs gave out from underneath me, and I
collapsed into a seated position upon the ground.
Sighing contently, I reached out with my right hand and
caressed the crown of Pamela's head. Her mouth still full
of my cock, she made eye contact with me and smiled. My
heart vibrated within my chest as I proclaimed, "I wish I
could stay right here - with you - for the rest of my life."
Giggling, Pamela released my cock from the clutches of
her mouth and then took a seat in my lap. She aligned her
sperm-soaked face with my own, then offered me yet another
glittering smile. Her eyes were so serene, so peaceful...
Unfortunately, I had to fight the urge to anoint Pamela
as my unquestioned favorite of all of the ladies. What if I
had gone on a bicycle ride with Devon and wound up having
sex with her upon this mountaintop instead of Pamela? What
if little Lindsay, who was so incredibly sweet and wholesome,
had professed her feelings for me in much the same way Pamela
just did? Or Trish? Amy? Even... Stephanie? _Stephanie_?
Chances are, I would feel the same way for that person -
whomever it was - that I do right now for Pamela.
Thus far, I seemed to have the tendency to fall in love
with the woman I most recently had sex with. Right now, it
was Pamela. Again, what if I had spent this time with Devon
instead? Lindsay? Or one of the others? Hmmmmm...
Although Pamela seemed to be my absolute _dream woman_ in
every sense of the imagination, I needed to take a step back
before coming to a final decision. Yes, another step back.
I still had nine weeks left on the island with the entire
group intact. Whomever I ultimately chose as my favorite -
and hopefully my eventual bride-to-be, I wanted to be
absolutely certain that she was the right girl for me.
"I know what _I_ want, dear Jeremy," Pamela swooned, still
smiling brightly, as she wrapped her arms around my neck and
shoulders. Nestled upon my lap, I slid my arms around Pamela
as she added, "I want us to stay right here - holding each
other - for the rest of our lives. Hmmmmm, this is Heaven!"
How could I possibly choose anyone other than Pamela?...
<<<- End of Chapter 9 ->>>
==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Tropic of Eros"
Author e-mail: HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
Author chat: http://messenger.msn.com - HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
Story archive: ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/HighlanderJM/
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