Chapter 9
I was inordinately proud of myself.
Using a crude forge I had created using a vinyl seat cover as a bellows I had
heated an aluminum alloy shaft, salvaged from the plane undercarriage, and bent
and formed it. After attaching some interwoven rubber strips cut from a tire, I
had, as a result, a very serviceable slingshot with a forearm brace.
I was standing below a coconut tree and after several tries had finally
dropped a target nut.
"Monkey stew tonight," I promised myself.
Turning to look down the beach, I used my hand to shade my eyes. In the surf
below a nude Jennifer stood unconsciously poised with an up-raised spear. She
shifted her weight from one leg to the other. I had an image association of a
"Venus de Milo" rising from the sea.
Earlier I had shown her how to adjust for the apparent target shifts caused
by the water diffraction. She made a quick spear thrust and came up with a
sparkling, flipping catch. She turned and was waving energetically and I could
see her mouth moving, but I could not make out what she was saying over the
ambient roar of the ocean. Triumphantly holding her prize aloft, she began a
high stepping run in the shallow surf toward me.
Watching her I had an aching realization of her natural beauty. We had been
using a combination of the aloe and coconut oil for some exposure protection
from the constant sun. But, in the past days she had tanned deeply to a nut
brown and looked wildly native. Her brown hair had sun bleached and she had tied
it behind her in a loose knot at the back of her head.
"It is bigger than the one you caught!" she laughing and holding the flipping
catch out for my inspection. It was a respectable fish. Her lithe female frame
was all youthful energy as she stuck the spear butt into the sand and stood on
her toes throwing herself into my arms, holding me tightly.
"I am so happy," she said with a laugh.
I held her close and mused, "If old Defoe had seen you, he might have had a
whole different concept of Friday."
She turned her head to look up at me quizzically. Occasionally the
generations loomed between us. She shrugged and squeezed herself against me.
I felt my groin stir from the tickle of her protruding pubis against my
nakedly hanging penis.
My new libido continued to amaze me. Our lovemaking had been constant and
furious over the past several days. Time passed in a pleasurable blur of wildly
uninhibited coupling, changing tides and night and day. My waking and sleeping
thoughts had been predominated by the need to thrust into that sweet tightness
of hers. My cock had taken on a raw red worn appearance that only the cool
application of aloe would relieve.
Her hand slid down my stomach and she firmly grasped me. She slowly worked
her hand on my shaft, which responded by immediately becoming tightly erect.
"Oh, my." She looked up at me with a bright innocent smile.
And so it went.
The next morning found us naked walking hand in hand upstream to the
waterfall. Jennifer was her always cheerfully exhilarated self. She would pull
at my hand for me to hurry, then stop and then a moment later turn to lean
against me. She suddenly stopped, dropped my hand and squatted in the shallow
water to pick up a brightly colored shell. The beautiful girl seemed unashamedly
at ease in this Garden of Eden. She closely examined her treasure. She stood and
held it up for me to see.
"See how the red pattern swirls in the center? It's perfect," she declared.
I nodded. I had woven a crude sack with palm fronds and some wire. It held
the last of the soap and toiletries we had salvaged. She opened the bag and
dropped the shell in.
"This place is so wonderful. I never knew that nature could be so beautiful."
She had told me she was a city girl.
"Yeah," I replied. "This place has definite paradise potential."
She looked up at me for a moment. Then she reached down to take my hand
again.
"You are beautiful too," she earnestly told me. "Last night was unbelievable.
I never knew sex could be like that. It was so intense." Then she turned and
started walking again. "Is it always like that?" she asked over her shoulder.
I smiled sagely and nodded. But the depth of the previous night's passion had
startled me too.
Later I sat in the shallow pool. Jennifer had insisted a proper slave girl
should always bathe her master. I was staring, mesmerized by the movement of a
neatly trimmed pubic bush, which was nearly tickling my nose. Jennifer stood
above me and was energetically scrubbing my hair.
"You better close your eyes," she warned. I felt soap running down my face. I
reached down to cup some water and splashed my face and her belly.
She giggled.
I leaned forward to blow the soap that was running down her belly into the
tight curly nest below.
"Oh!" she squealed. She stepped back and pointed a finger at me. "Don't get
me started," she scolded.
"Why not?" I asked. I reached out to grasp her slender hips. I pulled her
loins to my mouth and kissed her sex.
"Oh shit," she protested. Her hips squirmed in my tight grip. I ran my tongue
around her slit. Her hands tightened in my hair. I tasted her moist heat. Her
hands loosened then gently held my head. I felt a slight tremor in her. I probed
at her cleft.
"Please?" she whispered. I felt her respond with a slight push against my
face.
Using my lips and tongue I kissed and lapped at her trembling lips. There was
a delightful firm compactness about her. I tightly squeezed her buttocks and she
responded by pushing forward toward my extended tongue. My forefinger brushed
against the puckered opening of her anus and I gently inserted a fingertip. Her
lithe frame responded with a jerk.
"Owww. I'm still sore there," she said lightly. "But, it feels good. Please
be easy with me."
Resting her hands on my head she raised a leg and rested it across my
shoulder. This opened her thighs for a full and deep oral penetration of her
gash. I liked the way she responded to my kisses. I enjoyed this feeling of
playing with her body. I curled the tip of my tongue and slowly rolled her
engorged clit. Her hands tightened in my hair. She ground herself wantonly into
my mouth.
My finger was inserted into her anus to the first digit. I could feel her
loosen and tighten her ass in response to my ministrations. Abruptly she gasped
and went slack. She felt like a limp doll in my hands.
After planting one final kiss, I pulled my mouth away from her sweet heat. I
let gravity pull her down onto my lap and I guided her onto on my cock. She
again stiffened at the contact to her open sex. Then with a sign she slowly
settled onto me. I felt that tight velvet grip of her slowly engulf me. She
wrapped her arms about my neck and started heatedly kissing my mouth. She had
started a slow grind on my phallus.
She broke the kiss and whispered in my ear, "I thought we where washing off?"
I had my finger fully buried in her anus. I used my intimate grip to hold her
squirming weight tightly to me.
"We have all day for that," I told her.
Later I stood above her as she determinedly finished her Master-washing
duties. She knelt at my feet and was slowly lathering my calf. She ran her hand
up my leg to my inner thigh.
"You are all hard muscle," she told me.
"I used to play all lot of ball," I replied. "I still work out when I can."
She had her hand between my legs and was washing the back of my thighs. She
pressed the side of her face against my stomach and reached up to soap my
buttocks.
"I just never knew the hardness of a guy could be so exciting," she confided,
and then giggled. "I mean all over hardness."
Her finger touched my sphincter. She looked up at me.
"I saw Brittany kiss you there and you liked it," she said softly. "Do you
want me to do that too? I've never done it. But, if you want me to, I will. I
want to do everything to please you." She stared up at me earnestly.
Her finger continued to gently lather my anus.
"We shall see, Jennifer," I smiled and replied. But I my mind had shifted to
other things. While this was a paradise, the edge of survival was always an
ominous thought in the back of my head. I was always hungry.
Although almost all my time had been spent foraging or in the sack, I had
managed to fabricate several tools.
Initially they had been very primitive. I had used a stout wood club to bang
at the plane fuselage. But once I managed to bend back the thin sheet metal, I
had access to wiring and metal parts. Much time was consumed and strain involved
in doing tedious back and forth bending to break loose a metal shaft. But once I
had freed it I was lifted from the Stone Age. I had a hammer and a pry bar.
The same methods yielded a flat length of metal, which I attached to a wooden
handle and sharpened. This crude but very usable machete was perfect for cutting
bamboo and cracking coconuts.
More than once I had silently considered how quick and simple this work would
be with a couple of wrenches and a screwdriver.
But my rudimentary methods had yielded various lengths of wire, nuts and
bolts. I had even used a piece of loose fuselage and pounded out a crude but
useable frying pan. When I attached a long wooden handle to it to save my hands
from being burned by the fire, Jennifer had called it the Fred Flintstone line
of cookware.
I had interwoven electrical wire into a flat belt and attached a large brass
bolt into the weave.
Jennifer had not been particularly enthused when I demonstrated the practical
purpose of this device.
She knelt before me with her head bowed as I wove the final ends together.
When it was fully fitted around her slender neck there were no loose ends. There
was no way to easily take it off.
"I learned how to do that in Boy Scouts," I told her.
She had knelt back and had a finger inserted in the hanging washer. She
pulled it and rotated the collar back and forth on her neck. She peered down at
her new apparel.
"When I was at camp we just used this weaving stuff - gimp, I think it's
called - for key chains and hair pulls," she responded.
I picked up the shiny length of thin chain I had salvaged from the landing
gear mechanism. I clicked the toggle bolt to the washer on her collar. I tugged
the leash and she was pulled forward to brace herself on her hands. She looked
up at me in surprise.
"Well, Jennifer," I told her, "we must adapt with the tools we have."
I stood and fastened the other end of the chain to a large bolt I had
hammered into a nearby palm tree. I stood back to critique my work.
"Just kneel there until I return," I told her gently. I ran my hand through
her hair. She looked up at me and blinked.
"Woof, woof," she giggled.
As the ocean receded I would routinely check my traps in the shallow tidal
pools. It usually took an hour to check the several places where I seemed to
have consistent luck. I gathered my gear and prepared to make my rounds. The
past nights Jennifer had been accompanying me. She reached up and tested the
secured restraint. My intent was very oblivious. Tonight she was to remain
behind.
There was a slight pout. "Please don't forget about me," she said meekly.
As I walked away into the night I turned back several times to check on her.
Within the lit radius of the fire she remained kneeling, staring intently into
the darkness where she had seen me last disappear.
Neptune was good to us this night. I had shrimp and crabs.
Jennifer was ecstatic on my return. I thought her excitement was due to my
bounteous harvest. Still kneeling she had wrapped her arms around my knees and
hugged herself tightly against my thighs.
"Oh, I missed you so!" she whispered. She started kissing my leg. She ran her
tongue up my thigh and took my soft cock in her mouth. Within moments I became
erect and she began an energetic bobbing on my shaft.
Standing above her, I realized I still had the catch in my hands and was
dripping seawater on her. She was oblivious to everything but my penis. The
chain tightened as she straightened up to align herself above my erection. I
gasped as she tightened her lips and increased her suction. She began a rapid
demanding up and down motion. I dropped the netted fish at my feet and clutched
my dripping hands in her hair.
"Damn, Jennifer," I moaned, "that feels wonderful."
She popped her mouth off me and looked up. She clutched my rod and squeezed
it so the bulbous head swelled almost painfully.
"I've been thinking about this the whole time you where gone," she confided
passionately.
She placed my penis crown in her mouth and holding the base in both hands
renewed her determined tight bobbing.
I could feel the intense sensation up my spine. I threw my head back and
gasped. It felt like my head would explode.
"Oh shit, GIRL!" I exclaimed.
She was completely focused on her task. She seemed to have a ravenous hunger
for cock. I reached over and unlocked the leash from the tree and used it to
pull her head and mouth away from me. I turned and bent over resting my hands on
my knees.
"Use your tongue there," I told her.
Immediately I felt her smooth face between my cheeks and then the probing
insertion of her curled tongue. She had her face firmly pressed to my bottom
with her lips against my anus. I felt the presence of her deep in my bowels. She
reached forward to grab my rod and began to stroke it. I had begun to sweat. She
pulled her tongue from the anal hollow and lapped slowly from the base of my
scrotum up the crack of my buttocks and back again. Then she sat back.
"You like that?" she asked.
"It feels wild," I gasped. My legs felt like rubber.
But she had become distracted. "Oh look," she said. "Here comes Brittany."
