[[[-IF2E-08.TXT-]]]
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Island Fever 2: Eternity
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 08: "Littoral"
-*- Thursday, December 12, 2013 -*-
From outer space, our planet appears to be comprised of
huge landmasses separated by even greater expanses of blue
ocean. A closer look, however, reveals that those oceans
and seas are dotted with thousands upon thousands of islands.
Although these islands vary in magnitude from continent-sized
Australia to diminutive Nauru, the great majority of them are
so small that they do not even appear on the common map.
But in reality, a whole new collection of islands await
discovery in mid-ocean. Rising from turquoise waters like
emeralds sparkling in the sun, such islands represent our
closest approximation to the Garden of Eden - a place where
life is peaceful and easy - and nothing like the rest of the
world that we live in. From this perspective, at least,
every island holds the potential of a personal utopia.
The classic impression of an island, however, remains the
lush, tropical paradise lapped by crystalline blue-green
waters, where brightly colored fish mirror the terrestrial
beauty of flowers, plants and breathtaking views. In many
ways, the allure of islands have cast a spell over mankind.
Who hasn't dreamed of such a locale at one time or another?
The mere mention of places such as Hawaii, Bora Bora and
the Bahamas conjures up images of white sandy beaches fringed
by tall palm trees, where hedonism and luxury are not viewed
as decadence, but a necessity of life. Unfortunately, many
of us can only dream about stepping foot in such a place.
There are all types of islands, with waves beating, winds
howling, seagulls screeching overhead and the smell of salt
in the air. Islands where everything - the pace of life,
food, people and solitude - is distinctively earthy yet
unmistakably island-like. There are islands of compromise -
half hill, half mountain, half rock and half sand. Slopes
that are abandoned and others densely populated, with tightly
packed villages full of life.
Whether uncompromisingly harsh or beautiful, each island
is like an unfolding story. Some contain so much that in
spite of their limited size, they could be visited for an
entire lifetime. Many people, including myself, have chosen
to spend their lives as an island dweller for these reasons.
Personally speaking, of course, it did not get any better
than the relatively small, tropical island in the South
Pacific which I had once called home for 16 years. This
island had all of the elements - fresh tropical air, essences
of mango and alstroemeria, golden sunsets, moody rainforests,
grandiose cliffs, jagged peaks, lush valleys, dazzling
waterfalls, palm trees rustling in the wind and a collection
of spectacular beaches that were second to none.
The only problem I found here was that there was simply
too much beauty for one to fully absorb and appreciate.
* * *
Alongside the northern shore on this picture-perfect
Thursday afternoon, with sheer volcanic ridges laced by
waterfalls that rose as high as 3,000 feet as our background,
and waves thundering in like stampeding horses, Pamela and I
were enjoying what was going to be our final day on the
island for the foreseeable future. Tomorrow, the two of us -
along with the other ladies, of course - would begin our tour
of holiday/family visits starting in Cincinnati. Late next
week, we would then travel to Toronto for another visit before
returning to Norway just in time for Christmas Day.
Today, however, Kristanna and several of the others had
convinced me to spend the afternoon alone with Pamela. With
all the recent events which had taken place, the ladies felt
as if Pamela and I both needed and deserved some time alone
together. Plus, Kristanna pointed out that Pamela had just
recently returned to the island, and one final day to be out
and take in its wondrous scenery would be good for her.
"Oh my God..." Pamela moaned, full of temperate bliss, as
she relaxed on the beach at the water's edge, allowing the
intermittent waves to rush and splash over her body. Lying
on her back with her neck arched and knees raised slightly,
Pamela was her own picture of perfection in a flirtatious
two-piece bikini, its color pink with white trim and little
polka-dots mixed in. Portions of her body covered and
smeared with sand, Pamela continually squirmed and writhed
about, enjoying the sensations of the incoming swells and
the surreal tranquility of the moment itself.
When Pamela rolled over onto her side and eventually her
front, she made eye contact with me and offered a happy,
glittering smile. Squealing as another wave pelted her,
this time from behind, the 30-year-old raised her hips high
into the air and let her feet dangle freely about as if they
were like chimes billowing in the wind.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself."
Pamela's smile was still there as she glanced back at me.
"Oh, you have no idea, Jeremy. I spoke to my sister,
Candice, this morning, and she says Baltimore is still
covered in snow from that storm they had a few days ago.
Candice is so jealous right now that I'm actually here!"
I grinned at Pamela as well. "Cincinnati is supposed to
get some snow-fall over the weekend, from what I hear. You
will be re-acquainted with the bad weather soon enough."
"But at least I get to spend one more day in paradise,"
Pamela cooed, literally burrowing her forehead into the sand
and letting the tide completely douse her long-flowing blonde
hair. She looked at me for a brief moment, her now slick and
sticky hair cascading across her face and shoulders, but then
whipped her head back violently, her hair going with it and
flicking off the excess water in the process. Pamela focused
on me again and, with a smile, she brought her index finger
to her mouth and bit the very tip of it in an erotic fashion.
There is no point for me to beat around the bush here.
Watching the insanely gorgeous Pamela as she frolicked and
played in the surf, wearing a barely-there two-piece bikini,
was incredibly arousing for me. For the past 20 minutes, I
had been sitting off to the side and enjoying this amazing
show. And for nearly all of those 20 minutes, I found myself
shifting and changing positions a lot, not wanting Pamela to
realize that I had a hard, uncomfortable erection stashed
away in my swimming trunks. I simply wanted Pamela to have
her fun and luxuriate in the beach and its surroundings.
Despite the fact that we were once again an _item_, and
had plans of spending the rest of our lives together, Pamela
and I had not engaged in any sort of sexual activity since
her return to the island and my life itself a week ago. In
fact, as I lounged here on the beach, I realized that Pamela
and I had only been intimate with each other in the past on a
grand total of three occasions. That was amazing to me.
Our lone one-on-one encounter happened during Pamela's
second-ever day on the island back in June, when she and I
had sex in the library after a long and very wonderful
conversation. Two days later, Pamela and Amy showed up at
my door and both seduced me into a blistering three-some.
The following week, Pamela was just one piece of the puzzle
as all seven of the ladies - the nasty Camille included -
took their liberties with my body in a memorable gang-bang.
I simply could not believe that Pamela and I had engaged
in sexual play a mere three times. Earlier this year, I
suppose I was too concerned with trying to win Pamela's heart
and somehow prove to her that I was not one of the mindless
masses of men that she had been witness to on a nightly
basis as an exotic dancer who only viewed her as an object.
I spent so much time and effort trying to prove to Pamela
that I was _not_ like that; I was different - I was truly
interested in her as a person and potential soul-mate. I
actually felt concerned that if I showed a great desire to
become sexually involved with Pamela, I would perhaps scare
her off and give her the wrong impression of me.
I was well aware that all those years as an exotic dancer
had dulled and numbed Pamela to the point where not only did
she view sex differently than most people, but it was in many
ways a turn-off for her altogether. I got the sense from
Pamela early on that for her to enjoy intimacy, she had to be
incredibly close and have strong feelings for the person(s)
she was with. We had gotten to that point as a couple earlier
in the year, I believe, but I always wanted to push it even
further along to lessen the chance of any conflict.
Still, whenever I was with Pamela - either now or in the
past - I always found it difficult to harness and control the
overwhelming desire that I felt for her on a purely physical
level. After all, Pamela was incredibly beautiful and
desirable. I enjoyed our friendship and those never-ending
discussions she and I seemed to make famous and be known for,
but there were certain times when I wanted to literally tear
into Pamela and ravage her beyond any and all belief.
As she giggled and played in front of me upon the beach
and the incoming tide, _now_ was one of those times.
I gulped my throat and swallowed hard twice in succession
as Pamela rose up to her hands and knees. With that vibrant,
cheerful smile of hers, she focused upon me and commented,
"How could I have ever left the island and went back home to
Maryland in the first place?" Pamela giggled and shook her
head, adding, "It makes no sense to me now."
I took a deep breath as Pamela began to crawl further out
into the oncoming waves, her round, succulent backside
swaying back-and-forth in an enticing manner. I closed my
eyes briefly, trying to suppress my growing appetite for her.
"Norway is going to be a lot different than the island,
sweetheart. I hope you know that."
"Oh, I do," she assured me. "There is no doubt that I
love this island, Jeremy, but I love you and Kristanna more."
I smiled at those words as Pamela continued, "I would follow
you and Kristanna anywhere in the world that you go."
"You love Kristanna?"
Pamela nodded her head. "I do now. No woman has ever
been nicer and done more for me than Kristanna has." She
settled down onto her side in the surf, brushing her hair
away from her forehead with her right arm. "Besides,
Kristanna tells me that the mansion you are having built in
Norway has many things that will remind us of the island."
"It will," I promised her. "The mansion definitely has
a tropical flare and aura to it."
"I cannot wait to see it," Pamela surmised. "Who would
have ever thought of mixing an island theme together with
an organic fruit farm? Too bad I have to wait until next
summer before the mansion is complete."
Pamela sat up, and with a playful, spirited squeal, she
tossed her arms into the air, splashing herself with seawater
in the process. "Oh, this SO beats Maryland and the snow."
My limits were tested once again as Pamela, her impeccable
skin glistening and sparkling underneath the bright rays of
sunshine from overhead, reclined back and extended her right
leg skyward in another awesome display of pure eroticism.
Simply put, I could not take much more of this...
Returning to her hands and knees, Pamela crawled closer to
me and the shoreline itself, only to come to a stop and dig
her long, supple fingers into the wet, messy sand. She
scoured both hands and even her arms with the sand, only to
have a wave come along and wash herself clean just like that.
Pamela dropped down and rolled onto her back, allowing the
same process to repeat itself over and over.
That smile! I had never seen Pamela quite this jovial
and happy before. Usually the quiet and reserved type, it
was oftentimes difficult to read Pamela and gauge what her
true feelings were. She was very mysterious that way.
Now, however, there was no doubt. None whatsoever. I
got the sense that Pamela had finally found what she had
been searching her entire life for. Pamela had entered into
a true, committed relationship, and knew there was a long
lifetime of mutual love and devotion that awaited her. Not
only had I promised to take care of her for all of eternity,
but so did Kristanna and the other ladies as well.
"I've never seen you act this way before."
"What way?"
"So... alive."
Pamela actually blushed and looked away from me for an
instant because of it, but then offered a coy smile and
mused, "That's because I've never been this happy before."
Pamela got onto her hands and knees and began crawling
toward me one more time. She actually closed the distance
between us and promptly pressed her mouth to mine for a
very deep (and unexpected), exploratory kiss. It felt like
the whole world just stopped right there as she slid her
soft, velvety tongue between my lips for a taste of her own.
When it was over, I actually closed my eyes and sighed in
total arousal. Once I opened them, however, Pamela's face was
just inches from mine. She presented me with another glowing
smile and bit her lower lip for emphasis. "What's it going
to take for you to make love to me?" was her faint whisper.
Like a festering idiot, I just sat there and gawked at her,
unable to respond, those words echoing throughout my mind.
Pamela giggled at my reaction, then held up her right hand
and crooked a single finger at me. She began to back away -
toward the ocean - while offering me a sultry, come-hither
expression. When she again motioned for me to come to her
with that same finger, I finally did.
The young woman rose up to her knees to meet me as I
quickly approached her. I immediately took Pamela into my
arms and embraced her forcefully, my mouth finding hers this
time for a needful, passion-filled kiss. Unable to control
my desire any longer, I ripped off her bikini top with one
hand and squeezed her ass with the other. Pamela responded
by digging her own hand into my swimming trunks and finding
my cock, only to pump and frig it with ruthless aggression.
"Oh my God, Jeremy, I love you so much!" Pamela gasped
once our lips parted ways. "After I went back to Maryland,
I used to lay in bed at night and fantasize about a moment
just like THIS with you." My eyes went wide at those words
as she professed, "You and I... alone on the beach. I... I
would finger myself to sleep... fantasizing about you."
WHOA!
Not prepared for that type of admission, I actually did a
double-take and stared at Pamela in mock disbelief. I could
not believe she had said that to me! Pamela was blushing
again, but this time seemed utterly embarrassed at her words.
Did she actually intend to admit that to me?
"You should have never left me," was all I told her.
"I know," Pamela nodded, suppressing a cry.
Now feeling much more at ease, I smiled at her. "If it
makes you feel any better, honey, I have watched video of you
and me together in the library from that one day back in June
about a hundred or so times." I laughed as I confessed, "I
cannot help but to stroke myself; I always get off at the
sight of you and that expression on your face as I do you
missionary-style on the floor."
"You'll have to show it to me some time," she chirped,
kissing me on the cheek. Pamela moaned as she shifted her
lips to my chin and kissed it, then my nose, each of my
eyes, my forehead and finally my mouth.
Soon, both of my hands were on her backside and cupping it
firmly. Pamela curled and wrapped both of her legs around my
waist, allowing me to hold her hips and suspend her in mid-air
as the warm salt water crested and surged all around us.
"You'll have to show me just how you fingered yourself to
sleep at night fantasizing about me," I murmured, which was
easily the boldest thing I had ever said to her. Perhaps it
was time to shed and break down the barrier I had in regards
to Pamela as well? There were no barriers necessary when it
came to how I dealt with and interacted with any of my ladies.
"You want me to show you?" Pamela asked, obviously finding
it difficult to believe what her ears had just heard. Until
recently, words and phrases like that were simply not part of
my vocabulary. It was too out-of-place for me.
"Yes... show me," I reiterated. "Right now."
"You HAVE changed!" Pamela exclaimed, maneuvering herself
out of my arms and getting onto her knees in the ocean once
again. "I like it!" she added, slipping her G-string bikini
bottom down and off. Now totally nude, Pamela got onto all
fours and strutted away from me toward dry land.
Once at the edge of the surf, Pamela flipped over and
rose to a seated position. Her knees high and feet nestled
firmly in the sand, she spread those showgirl legs far and
wide, allowing me a full, unobstructed view of her pretty,
little pussy. It looked good enough to dive right into and
become lost for 20 or 30 years. I nearly blew my load as
Pamela then snaked a hand between those moist, succulent
thighs, and began to diddle away upon her clitoris for my
viewing pleasure with a pair of extended fingers.
It was unfortunate and dampened what had been a magical
moment, but the thought quickly crossed my mind as to how
many times Pamela had done this same, exact thing - masturbate
on demand - for a paying customer at the strip club in the
past. Hundreds of times? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Did
my lewd request, though born out of nothing but love and
compassion for her, remind Pamela of her prior job?
"What's wrong?" she demanded, obviously seeing the change
in my demeanor, her middle and ring finger now buried within
the crevice of her pink, puffy folds.
"Do you like doing this for me?"
Pamela let out an exasperated sigh and put an immediate
end to the finger show. "You need to stop it, Jeremy," she
scolded me, now crawling closer and then finding my lips for
a kiss of assurance. "You've always been this way with me.
OF COURSE I like touching myself for you! I like to do
anything for you! Why can't you realize that? Why can't you
just let yourself go like you do with Devon, Lindsay or Amy,
and just TAKE me? I just don't understand you at times!"
"I... I don't want... you to think of me... as a customer."
"WHY would I think of you as a customer?" she screeched.
"No," I returned, wanting to correct myself. "I don't want
to remind you of a customer, Pamela, with the things that I
say or ask of you. I don't... I don't want... you to even...
have a fleeting thought, like that." I shook my head several
times in a row, trying to find the right words to say to her.
"I want you to forget that life you once had... forever."
"Let me assure you of one thing," Pamela said to me. "The
term CUSTOMER has never popped into my mind when I have ever
looked at you, Jeremy, or even thought of you." She shook her
head as well. "I love you! I want to be wild and crazy with
you... I want to have fun and not worry about anything. I
want to feel that way with Krissy and the other girls, too,
and I trust that down the line - eventually - I will."
Pamela kissed me flush on the lips and commented, "You
were the same way around me earlier in the year when we were
together, Jeremy. Afraid to touch me! Well... you need to
know that when I am around you and Krissy, and the other
girls - but especially YOU - I do not feel like a stripper
any longer. I do not remember that time in my life when I
am with you. I feel MANY things when I am with you, but one
feeling seems to supersede and override them all. Do you
know what that is, Jeremy? Do you know what I feel the most
whenever I am with you?"
"What?" I wondered, gulping my throat.
"Cherished."
"Pamela..." I sighed, touched by her sentiments.
The 30-year-old again peppered various portions of my face
and forehead with a series of kisses. "I love you, Jeremy!
You need to... you need to stop worrying about what I think
or don't think. You need to let loose, and have some fun!"
Pamela paused for a moment, then tilted her head and looked
at me with an inquisitive expression. "Do you remember that
one day when I gave you a lap dance in your bedroom?"
"I do," was my answer. "I got two lap dances from you,
actually - one each on two separate occasions."
"Yeah," she nodded, now recalling that as well. "After
the second one, you told me that you did not want me to dance
for you ever again because you were afraid that giving you a
lap dance reminded me of work - and I had JUST told you how
much I truly despised being a stripper."
"I remember."
"Work never crossed my mind during either of those lap
dances that I gave to you," she informed me. "Even though
the idea turned you off because you felt it reminded me of
work, you were hard as a rock regardless. I had never felt
your cock so hard, so I KNOW you had a physical reaction to
it. But guess what? I was excited, too. I was excited due
to the simple fact that you were excited, and my dancing was
giving you pleasure. That was all that mattered to me. I
wanted to give the man that I love pleasure."
"Never once did I say to myself, _oh, this is what I do
for a living_. _Oh, Jeremy has a hard cock now, so he must
look at me in no better light than all the other guys at the
strip club_. No, I was excited and happy. I WANTED to dance
for you and get you EVEN harder."
It proved to be difficult for me to come up with a suitable
response for her. "I... I've just always wanted you to know
that I care about you, Pamela, and I think you are special.
I have always wanted to... respect you... because I think
you... you are so much better than the prototypical stripper."
"I already know you feel that way!" she insisted, kissing
me yet again. "Trust me, I am well aware of it. You don't
want me to have any doubts as to your sincerity. I
understand that. I appreciate it. And no matter what you say
or do, Jeremy, I will never forget it. I'll never doubt it."
I gulped my throat once more. "I don't like looking at
you, Pamela, in that sort of light - you know, as a stripper."
"Then don't!" Pamela roared, now becoming even more
exasperated. "My God, Jeremy! Whatever I do for you, or
offer to do for you, it is because I LOVE you... not because I
am being paid to do it. Anything sexual I have ever done with
you has not reminded me of work in the absolute slightest."
Suddenly feeling timid and little, I lowered my head and
sulked, "I'm different, Pamela, and I know it's frustrating."
"You're you," she offered, using a single finger to lift my
chin and bring my eyes in line with hers. "That's why I love
you. Listen, Jeremy. I appreciate the fact that you want me
to get away and distance myself from my years as a stripper.
I really do. But look around you." Pamela motioned toward
the bright, sunny sky, as well as the sparkling beach and the
tide around us. She grasped my right hand with hers and
brought it to her heart. "I cannot get any further away from
that life than I am right now, right here - with you. I am
so far away from it that I'm actually forgetting it. If I do
something sexual with you, or... PROVOCATIVE, maybe even
something really naughty, those memories of what I used to
do for a living are not going to come rushing back to me."
"Why is it you can put Amy over your knee so easily, and
spank her until she cries?" Pamela wondered. "Why can you
have Lindsay dress up as a schoolgirl and cheerleader, and
just tear her to shreds without a single thought? Yet when
you are with me, you've always been scared to do anything.
Why is that? I know you're physically attracted to me. I've
known that from the outset. I see the way you look at me,
Jeremy. You are always devouring me with your eyes."
"I have just always wanted to respect you," was my honest
answer. "I just... I knew how much you hated your job. You
only did it for the money. It was so degrading for you...
so humiliating, to subject yourself to that for all those
years. I just never wanted to say or do something that...
that would remind you... of that aspect of your life."
"Are you saying that you do not respect Lindsay or Amy?"
"Not at all."
"No way I thought you didn't," she nodded.
"It's just... my relationship with Lindsay and Amy is
different. I look at all of you girls differently; I treat
all of you differently. I respect the hell out of Lindsay
and Amy. I would not be with them if I didn't. But my
relationship with them - how it was built and then evolved -
is vastly different than what I have with you. They all end
up at the same point - I love all three of you more than life
itself - but each individual path to get there is different."
"What do you mean?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "It has always been easy for me
to be sexually free and active with Lindsay and Amy. I don't
know, Pamela... I just don't. There are some things that I
am very comfortable doing with Lindsay, for example, that I
would never ask or insinuate from say... Devon. And vice
versa. As I said, I treat all of you girls differently, but
the end result remains the same regardless."
"I went through this same, exact thing with Trish several
months ago, Pamela. I had my reservations about becoming
sexually intimate with Trish because I had the underlying
fear that if something went wrong in taking things to the
next level, it would possibly ruin the friendship I had with
her. That friendship I have with Trish is still more
important to me than anything else the two of us have with
each other. It exceeds everything."
"I remember that you and Trish started talking and really
confiding in each other before I originally left," Pamela
commented. "I knew that you and her were good friends. But
you were able to get past that fear, yes? From what Trish
tells me, you and her have a strong sexual relationship now."
"We do," I responded. "We worked through it, I guess."
Pamela smiled. "Then you and I need to do the same. I
will have sex with you EVERY SINGLE DAY, Jeremy, until you
have no more reservations or concerns about anything that
has to do with me and you."
"Every... single day?" I asked, my eyes wide.
Pamela nodded. "And even after you are comfortable and at
ease, Jeremy, I will STILL have sex with you EVERY SINGLE DAY
just for the simple reason that I won't be able to keep my
hands off of you. I'm going to wear you out!"
Just then, my tablet buzzed.
I glanced back at the device, which was wrapped up in a
beach towel and safely away from any harm of being splashed
by the incoming tide. Pamela nodded her head at me again,
then the two of us ventured the 30 feet onto dry land and
noticed that there was a text message from Kristanna.
"You really need to quit being such a gentleman and fuck
Pamela now," were my newlywed bride's words for me.
A new message came in just as I finished reading the first
one. This time, it was from Lindsay's personal cellular
number. "u better respect me, u old man! lol"
Pamela snickered. "Looks like we have an audience, huh?
They must be watching us in the voyeur room."
"All of us are in the voyeur room," came a text from Devon
mere seconds later.
"We're dying to see Jeremy fuck you!" Amy chimed in.
Pamela was laughing hysterically. "Why am I not offended
one bit that we're secretly being watched by a band of
sex-starved nymphomaniacs?" Pamela looked up into the air
and playfully roared, "You bunch of perverts!"
It took a few seconds, but a new message came rolling in.
"Perverts? We're not the ones naked on the beach fingering
our pussies! You're the pervert! LOL"
"You got me there, Kristanna," Pamela conceded, still
laughing up a storm.
"Pammy the pervert!" Lindsay offered.
"You need to tear into Jeremy and really go at him," Trish
texted. "Trust me, it will loosen him up really quick."
"That's the best idea yet," Pamela surmised, placing both
hands upon my shoulders and recklessly shoving them.
When I landed flat on my back, the hot, dry sand literally
seared my skin as Pamela ripped my swimming trunks off in one
quick, easy motion. My cock, still fully erect from before,
sprung out like a flagpole and Pamela immediately grasped its
base with her right hand. She offered the underside of my
cock a long, sweeping lick with her tongue, then took its
bulging tip between her lips and began to work her magic.
I tossed my head back and growled in utter lust as Pamela
applied a moderate amount of suction upon my cock with her
mouth. Still gripping its base, with her pinky finger now
kneading my testicles for good measure, Pamela kept her eyes
trained upon my face as her head bobbed up-and-down at a
slow, languid pace. I reached out and brushed away a long
clump of her wet, messy hair, fully exposing her face so I
could admire it as she offered me the royal treatment.
When Pamela withdrew my shaft from the wondrous clutches
of her mouth, she again serenaded its underside with slow,
loving swipes of her tongue.
"You're going to have to learn how to respect me from now
on, Jeremy, with your cum all over my face," she proclaimed,
swallowing my cock yet again. Her right hand began to pump
and frig harder than before, which did nothing but send
erotic bolts of electricity coursing all throughout me.
The 30-year-old moved her lips away one more time, and
now stroked the full length of my shaft with her little,
manicured hand. It nearly became a blur for several seconds
Pamela was doing it so fast, but she released my cock from
her hand only then to fully engulf into her hungry mouth.
Teetering on the brink of sexual madness, I grasped
Pamela's left hand - which had been buried in the sand - with
my right and squeezed lovingly as I glanced at her and really
took in the beautiful, amazing sight.
Gloriously nude and on her knees between my outstretched
legs, Pamela's backside was perched toward the sky and her
luscious, massive breasts bounced and flopped about as she
sucked my cock with wild abandon. This time, Pamela was the
one who brushed a heavy clump of her pristine, silky-smooth
hair away from her face with a forearm.
Unable to take any more of this sweet, divine torture, my
body tensed and I growled out like a madman as I lost control
of my faculties. When my cock erupted, Pamela quickly pulled
it from her mouth and let the gooey blasts of sperm land and
splatter all across her face. Her brown eyes flashing with
absolute desire, Pamela stroked my shaft for all it was worth
until every last ounce of semen had been extracted from it.
Once the intense satisfaction of orgasm had come and gone,
I reclined my head back with the sand beneath us and sighed
contently. That mouth of hers could bring world peace!
"Now wasn't that FUN?" Pamela squealed, full of happiness,
her voice causing me to look up at her. Her face covered in
sperm, Pamela began to wipe it with two extended fingers and
licked each of them dry in repeated succession.
I heard the familiar buzzing sound of my tablet, which
meant I had received a new text. It was quickly followed by
another buzz, then a third. I glanced toward the device,
but found Pamela already on her hands and knees above it,
apparently reading the new stream of messages.
"What is it?"
Pamela giggled. "Just the others being silly is all.
They are obviously having a blast spying on us."
I watched with adoring eyes as Pamela then stood up and
stretched her arms and legs, her magnificent, nude body on
full display, before returning to the water and momentarily
submerging herself underneath an incoming wave.
"Hey mister," Pamela called out once she resurfaced, now
drenched and refreshed from head to toe, crooking a finger
and motioning for me to join her in the water again, "I'm not
done with you yet. Get over here! You've got work to do!"
Once I was able to make it to my feet and move toward
Pamela, she turned her back to me and met me in a knee-deep
current. I slipped both arms around her torso from behind,
my hands quickly gravitating toward her bare breasts and
groping them thoroughly. Pamela began to grind her ass
upon my pelvis - obviously wanting me to become hard again -
as she turned her face to the side and found my mouth with
her own for a hot, scorching kiss.
I slipped one hand downward, between her thighs, and began
to massage her tender pussy as my opposite hand continued to
maul her breasts. Pamela reached back and grasped my cock,
only to again start to stroke and pump away, as her tongue
danced and dueled with mine under the blazing sun.
"Maybe tomorrow or the next day," Pamela giggled, "you and
I can have sex like this in the snow in Ohio." She snickered
some more and cooed, "Wouldn't that be something?"
"Sounds like an ideal place, sweetheart."
"Yeah, an ideal place to become sick and catch pneumonia!"
"Perhaps we will stick to a nice, warm bed, then."
"Or the kitchen counter," she swooned, which caused me to
moan out in response. "Or you bending me over the dining
room table and doing me from behind like I'm a bad girl -
like Amy. As long as it's indoors, I won't complain"
"What do you want Santa Claus to bring you for Christmas?"
was my next question. "I need to know."
Pamela turned to face me in the surf, her arms encircling
my shoulders. That radiant smile of hers returned as she
kissed me, saying, "I already have what I want for Christmas."
The young woman kissed me five more times in quick, rapid-fire
succession. "All I want is to be with you and the girls."
"I love you, Pamela," I simply told her, still amazed that
she was not only back in my life, but also because of her
new-found acceptance of the other ladies and our way of doing
things. "I'm so happy that we can finally be together."
"So am I," she whispered, kissing me again. "And I love
you too, Jeremy. You'll never know how much."
I latched onto Pamela's ass with my left hand and used my
opposite to lift and raise one of her legs. I kept bringing
it higher and higher - past her waistline and eventually to a
near 75 degree angle pointing toward the Heavens above.
Pamela yelped, nearly losing her balance in the process, as
she stood on one leg in the water in such an awkward pose. I
dropped down to one knee before her, then moved my eager lips
and tongue toward her wet, smoldering pussy.
Pamela propped the upper portion of her thigh across my
face and held onto my shoulder to steady herself with one
hand, the other helping hold her left leg skyward, as I began
to furiously swipe and lap away at her exposed folds. It did
not matter to me that this image of us in such a unique
position seemed to be right out of a pornographic movie.
All that mattered right now was my curious, flicking tongue,
and how much pleasure it could deliver to Pamela.
She was already panting and writhing about in total desire
above me. Listening to her soft squeals and gentle moans as
I worked over her swollen, puffy lips - not to mention her
tasty clitoris - was absolute music to my ears.
"Fuck me, Jeremy," Pamela suddenly begged, freeing her
left leg from my grasp and then slowly bringing it back down
to its natural position. "Please fuck me. Do it now."
Unable to ignore such a request, I spun Pamela around so
she was facing away from me here in the water. When she bent
over and jutted her shapely, picture-perfect ass upon my
pelvis, I latched onto either side of her abdomen with my
hands and jammed my cock hard and fast into her pussy.
"Oh my God!" Pamela growled when I began to forcefully
thrust myself in-and-out of her. Pamela reached back with
both hands to spread her ass-cheeks apart, obviously wanting
me to achieve maximum penetration. We soon caught a mutual
rhythm, our bodies bouncing and slapping together violently,
as I hammered away at her with every last fiber of my being.
I certainly hoped that the _show_ Pamela and I were
putting on for the others - namely Kristanna, Devon, Trish,
Lindsay and Amy - was entertaining enough for them as they
spied on us from the comfort of the voyeur room back at the
estate. I blasted away at Pamela with all that I had,
wanting to jam my cock so far and deep into her pussy that
it would literally pop right out her mouth. Watching her
toned, voluptuous body as she bucked and churned in response
to what I was doing to her was pure visual stimuli to me.
But at such a frenetic pace, this moment could not last.
Pamela and I rumbled and vibrated together in erotic unison
as we experienced simultaneous orgasms. It felt like an
explosion took place within my lower stomach, only to then
quickly spread to my extremities, and all points inbetween.
In my mind's eye, guns blazed and fireworks went off overhead
as I went through the unequaled joy of release.
A truly good, tingly sensation then washed over me all at
once, and I felt weak yet hyper at the same time, as my cock
finished injecting its thick and heavy helping of life-giving
sperm into Pamela's womb - the same type of life-giving sperm
which had recently gotten Kristanna pregnant...
"Oh my God, that felt SOOOOO good!" Pamela exclaimed as
she and I sat down together in the aftermath, the seawater
now cresting about chest-high all around us. My mind in a
daze from the lingering effects of that monumental orgasm,
I still sought Pamela's mouth and kissed her regardless.
She and I hugged and clutched each other in the swirling
current, reveling in the closeness of our pressed bodies
and the undying love we shared.
"You and I are going to be having sex together A LOT from
this point forward," I informed Pamela, which of course made
her suddenly squeak and beam with extreme happiness.
"Oh, so you're finally going to allow yourself to be wild
and carefree around me?" Pamela asked, a definite hint of
zest and playfulness in her voice.
"Yes, I am."
"Are you going to let me dance for you?"
I needed to break through whatever barriers and obstacles
I had left which pertained to Pamela and my relationship with
her. If she truly wanted to give me a lap dance, I was not
going to stop or detour her from doing so again. Besides, I do
admit that the two she had given to me in the past brought
forth an extreme physical reaction from my body. Perhaps it
was time my good-natured mind joined in on the fun, too.
"I'll even tip you a dollar if you want me to," I joked,
answering her question.
"Oh, I'd prefer you tip me with kisses," Pamela mused,
planting a series of them all across my face and neck.
"What do you think the other girls are up to now?"
Pamela giggled. "Probably having a wild orgy back at the
house right now. I bet they just couldn't take watching us
and not being part of the fun themselves."
"A wild orgy, huh?" I groaned, my senses shifting into
overdrive at the mere thought.
"Do you think we should join them?"
I felt surprised by that question. It seemed out of
character for Pamela, but perhaps she was breaking down a
few walls of her own. After all, this transition of getting
Pamela acclimated to our lifestyle was a work in progress.
"Would you LIKE to join them for a wild, all-out orgy?"
Pamela giggled and bit her lower lip, then offered me a
sincere smile. "Yes, I would."
I chuckled and tilted my head at her. "Let's go, then."
<<<- End of Chapter 08 ->>>
PLEASE NOTE: I am now debating whether or not I should write
two more chapters for this story before closing it out for
good, or just one. Whatever the case, please be aware that
the story (and the series itself) is ending very soon.
==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Island Fever 2: Eternity"
(c) 2014 JeremyDCP
- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
Feedback is always appreciated!