[[[-IF4-P18.TXT-]]] ---------------- Island Fever 4: Paradise Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com M/F, F/F and a whole lot more ---------------- Chapter 18: "Home" ------------------------------------------- -*- Tuesday, June 16, 2015 -*- -*- Hamilton, Ohio -*- The headstone was engraved with simple, block letters - Donald F. [Last Name], December 13, 1965 - November 4, 2012. Beneath it, the epitaph simply read, "His life a beautiful memory, his absence a silent grief." I placed a reassuring hand upon Lindsay's shoulder as she knelt at the final resting place of her father. I tenderly caressed Lindsay's neck as she sprayed the modest marker with a cleaning solution and then used a towel to wipe it dry. "Dad's grave is always covered with dirt and mowed grass every time I visit here," my wife complained. "I really wish they did a better job of upkeep around this cemetery." I motioned toward the wooden bird house dangling from a shepherd's hook no more than five feet from the marker. "You want me to fill it, honey?" I asked, cradling a bag of bird seed on my right arm. "Or do you want to do it yourself?" "You can," Lindsay answered, glancing up and over her shoulder at me for a brief moment, before returning to her cleaning duties. I proceeded to carefully pour seed, trying not to spill any, into the bird house until it was full. Ever since arriving in Cincinnati on Sunday afternoon for our little, private vacation for two, I felt closer and more emotionally intimate with Lindsay than I ever had before. The fact that Lindsay was newly pregnant was certainly a major contributing factor, but getting to spend these few days alone with her were wonderful and fabulous for me. All of my time and energy had been exclusively devoted to her. I loved having the opportunity to watch Lindsay interact with her family here in Ohio, whom she missed dearly, yet rarely got to see because we made our home in Norway. Our trip to the park yesterday was very special and memorable for me, too. I was so accustomed to being with Lindsay with the other ladies in our lives around as well. This was certainly a very different side of Lindsay - and in an equally different environment - than what I was used to. I actually wished our one-on-one vacation lasted longer... After having breakfast at the downtown hotel this morning, I drove Lindsay to the cemetery and told her that we would stay here to visit with her father for as long as she wanted. I felt extreme sympathy for her as she knelt and dusted off the tombstone. Both of my parents were still alive (thank God), so I would not even begin to think that I knew how Lindsay felt at the current moment. She loved her father; he was her hero, her idol, and his memory was sacred to her. It still tore her apart inside that he was no longer alive. Lindsay did not say anything or show much emotion over the following ten minutes once she got comfortable and settled into a seated position. I opted to allow her some privacy, venturing off on my own and exploring various other parts of the cemetery. Spiked, black fences surrounded the graveyard almost as if it was a ghostly prison. The smell of old stone filled the dry air, weeds covering the graves of the dead. On the far side there were several tombstones, some toppled, some crumbling from age. There were people buried here - families - dating back as far as 200 years. It was disheartening to see memorials for several 1800's era children who did not make it past their first or second birthday. It made me appreciate modern day medicine and science even more. Just the thought of losing Kaden or Piper - either of my children back home in Norway - at such an early age made my stomach painfully churn. I would not be able to handle it. I glanced back toward Lindsay and sighed in exasperation. It may have been a hot and humid day at 85 degrees, but Lindsay still wore a knitted blue scarf - which belonged to her father - loosely around her neck. Lindsay truly believed that the restless spirits here would leave her alone as long as she had one of her father's favorite possessions with her. She even claimed it would ward them off. The scarf rippled and billowed in the light breeze as I watched her lips move. She was openly talking to her father. No harm could come ever come to Donald again. The life that dwelled within him was gone and he was safe from the perils of the world. A heart that used to beat with love was now still, yet his memory would never be forgotten. "You okay, honey?" I asked Lindsay once I returned to her side, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her forehead. "He likes you," Lindsay simply said, smiling somewhat. "Daddy likes you, Jeremy. He told me so." Smiling myself, I dropped down to one knee beside Lindsay. "Tell your father I appreciate that, honey." I kissed her on the forehead again. "Do you think maybe your dad would like to talk to me? I want to tell him how much I love you, how special you are to me. And I would like his approval for our life and marriage. Do you think I could maybe meet him?" Lindsay turned and glanced at the quiet earth beneath us for a few seconds, then focused upon me with a full, happy expression. "Daddy says he would be honored to meet you!" When we left the cemetery a good four hours later, Donald's tombstone and its surrounding area popped with vibrant colors thanks to Lindsay's special touch. She decorated it with a wide assortment of bouquets and flower arrangements, put up a pair of sun-catchers, wind chimes and a beautiful wreath. She also left a memorial rock at the base of his marker, with an engraved inscription. "If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to Heaven and bring you home again." This was the first time that Lindsay had visited her father since just before her wedding with Trish this past December. He was forever a delicate subject with her, so it should not come as any great surprise that Lindsay was a bit emotional once we left the cemetery. She promised her father that she would be back to visit him again sometime soon. But best of all, I got that stamp of approval from him. According to Lindsay, her father gave us his total blessing. I promise to love and take care of your amazing daughter, Donald, for as long as I shall live... and then beyond. And with all of the many, wonderful things I have heard about you over the past two years (and everything I will hear in the future), I look forward to shaking your hand one day. * * * Lindsay and I returned to our hotel room after visiting the cemetery and took a much-needed shower, then ventured back out and drove up to her family home in [City Name]. Lindsay's mother (Leslie) and her three sisters were waiting for us. After two hours of spirited and fun conversation, I offered to treat everyone to an early dinner at a restaurant of their choosing. Ahhhhh, they were indeed women after my very own heart - they opted for _Red Lobster_. Fresh seafood was my absolute favorite. It was healthy, and delicious! In the morning - on Wednesday - Lindsay and I debated what our itinerary should be for the day. Tomorrow morning, we would board our family jetliner at the Dayton International Airport and fly back home to Norway. We wanted to go out and spend our last day here together, and have a good time. Not only did we experience a great deal of fun, but I got the added bonus of continually gawking at Lindsay in a little, two-piece bikini swimsuit for the great bulk of the afternoon. She and I went to _The Beach Waterpark_, which was located in Mason, Ohio, for swimming and sun. Wave pools, slides, a lazy river, zip lines... this waterpark had it all. The staff was friendly and attentive, and the food was decent. It was a family friendly atmosphere, yet the beautiful and vivacious Lindsay gathered a lot of attention as she paraded about and flaunted her immaculate figure in an American flag inspired swimsuit. Red, white and blue fabric featured the stars and stripes in a bikini top with white string lines. The side-tied, matching thong bikini bottom definitely made her stand out from all of the other women at the park. I even caught several guys eyeing her on multiple occasions. Who could resist the sight of Lindsay in a little bikini? She was gorgeous, and not afraid to let others know it. I was content to relax and spend the evening at our hotel, but Lindsay knew how much I enjoyed professional sports, and the local baseball team, the Reds, were in town playing host to the Detroit Tigers. Lindsay suggested that we buy tickets and walk down to _Great American Ballpark_ to catch the game. I had never actually been to this stadium, which opened in 2003, before. All of my memories of the Reds and baseball in Cincinnati were from old, dilapidated Riverfront Stadium, which was demolished a decade ago and no longer existed. I used to go there several times a year when I was a kid and cheer on childhood heroes such as Eric Davis and Barry Larkin. The new ballpark, though, was definitely an experience that I will never forget. Lindsay and I were able to get tickets directly behind home plate; we could even see ourselves on the big, video scoreboard at several points throughout the night. The fire from the riverboat smoke stacks with every strikeout and the fireworks after every home run was a spectacle in and of itself. The food was good too; I came close to gorging (Lindsay's term) on hot dogs and chili fries, but enjoyed a barbequed pork sandwich from _Mr. Reds Smokehouse_ more than anything else. The game went into extra innings, but ended on the highest of notes at 1:20am local time as Todd Frazier of the Reds hit a grand slam home run in the bottom of the 13th to send his team to an 8-4 victory. Lindsay, who was dressed up in full baseball garb yet knew barely anything about the sport, let alone the players involved, said that she had a wonderful time and we would definitely have to come back here to watch another game during a future visit to Cincinnati. Trish was an avid sports fan, Lindsay reminded me, and she would absolutely love it here. By the time it was 7:00am, Lindsay and I had already checked out of our hotel and were actually having breakfast with her mother and three sisters at their family home. It was a sad, tearful goodbye, yet all of the ladies reiterated how happy they were for us as a married couple that Lindsay was finally pregnant and was well on her way to motherhood. Considering the quiet lust for Alison that was raging inside of me (and getting stronger), it was good to get away from her. At 10:00am, our plane took off from the airport in Dayton. Eight hours from now - which would be midnight in Norway - we would touch down in Oslo. This time, I came prepared. I had been up the whole night and, after the exhausting events of yesterday (first the visit to the waterpark, then the baseball game afterward) I had plans of sleeping for most, if not all, of the flight. I even took a sleeping pill and went straight to the master bedroom in our _flying hotel_ of an aircraft. Flying and I rarely seemed to agree with each other, so this was my way of trying to eliminate the hassle of it altogether. Oddly enough, my plan worked to near perfection. * * * Our family jetliner touched down at Gardermoen Airport in Oslo, Norway at 12:33am Friday morning. Lindsay and I left our private flight crew to deal with the plane, and we were on the road and driving back to our home in Sandvika by 12:45am. Although I enjoyed the little excursion with Lindsay to the United States and at times wished it lasted longer, I was given a vivid reminder of what I had here in Norway once we stepped out of the vehicle in front of our family's estate. Lindsay and I were literally met with a welcome wagon. Even at such a late hour, Kristanna came rushing over and hugged me fiercely at the earliest opportunity. Pamela soon joined her, making it a triple hug, and both ladies were emotional as they spoke about how much they had missed me this week, and how happy they were that I was home. Meanwhile, Lindsay was getting bombarded with hugs and kisses from Trish. Things became even better once Devon and Scarlett entered the picture, carrying Kaden and Piper, respectively, in their attentive arms. It was definitely well past the bed-time of my 11-month-old and 7-month-old pair of children, yet that did not deter me from showering them with kisses and affection as well. They were tired and fussy, and obviously not in the best of moods, but I was overjoyed to see them regardless. Kristanna and Pamela continued to hug and love on me even as I took Kaden and Piper into each arm and cradled them to my shoulders. When they finally relented, Kristanna and Pamela turned their attention toward Lindsay. At the same time, I had a nice, little reunion with Trish, followed by Devon and Scarlett. Indeed, I led quite the charmed life. But someone very important, I quickly noticed, was missing... "Where is Amy?" "Sleeping," Kristanna told me in response. "She has not been feeling well the past couple of days." "Is she okay?" I asked, concerned. "Amy is deep into her pregnancy," Pamela reminded me. "It is normal for her to have stretches where she feels tired and sluggish, like now." Pamela smiled sweetly and added, "Plus, I think Amy has really missed you this week, Jeremy. She is not quite the same without you around." "None of us are," Kristanna pouted. "We didn't want to wake her up," Trish chimed in. "All of us figured that she could see you in the morning." "Well, _I_ am going to wake Amy up," I announced to the group. "Because I want to see her." Moments later, I was alone as I stepped into the sprawling, luxurious bedroom that I shared with my six wives and one fiancee. Upon the mattress was the magnificent and alluring Amy, who quietly slept away in a black modal maternity robe. I could not help but to smile; Amy's baby bump seemed even more pronounced than it was when I last saw her five days ago. I knelt down next to Amy and grasped her left hand with my right. It seemed a bit swollen, but that was normal for a woman well more than seven months into her pregnancy. "Amy?" I whispered, gently kissing her cheek. "Baby, you awake?" My 32-year-old bride stirred for a brief instant, then her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed at me. "Jeremy..." Amy sighed, her lips forming a tender smile. "You're home." I squeezed her hand a bit tighter and used my opposite to rub and caress her bulging belly. "How are you doing?" "Better now." Amy glanced around for a moment, but then re-focused upon me. "Where is Lindsay?" "She'll be along shortly," I promised. "Hey... I heard you haven't been feeling good the past few days. What's up?" Amy glanced toward her baby bump and breathlessly giggled. "I'm getting fatter?" She shook her head and added, "Just feel worn down, exhausted. Scarlett says it is normal." She smiled at me again. "Did you and Lindsay have a good flight back from America? How's my old home, Ohio?" "I slept for seven of the eight hours during the flight," I countered. "And Ohio doesn't change." I leaned down and kissed her on the lips. "I missed you, Amy." "I missed you too, Jeremy," she whispered. "All of us missed you and Lindsay so much. We haven't been apart for an extended amount of time like that since we first got together." Amy frowned at me. "I don't like being away from you." "I'm home now." "Yes, you are." I again squeezed her hand, then kissed her forehead. "You are so beautiful to me right now." Amy tried to sit up, but winced instead and quickly gave up on the idea. "I definitely don't feel beautiful." "Why don't I take you to the doctor in the morning?" Amy shook her head at me as I insisted, "Come on... the doctor can check you out and see if something is wrong with you. You could have a virus, or something." "I'm fine, Jeremy," Amy squeaked. "I feel happy, I feel cranky, clumsy, emotional, irritable, excited, nauseous, moody, sore, stuffy, thirsty... I'm a pregnant woman." "But can you bend over and touch your toes?" "No!" she replied emphatically to my silly question. It was a horrible attempt at humor on my part. "I want you to go to the doctor in the morning," I told her, literally putting my foot down. Amy would never refuse me when I used this particular tone of voice on her. It was the submissive streak in her. "It is for your own good." "Okay," she relented. "I'll go." I nestled up close to Amy upon the bed and settled down beside her. "How's my little girl doing in there?" I asked, again massaging her baby bump. "Been kickin' this week?" "Oh yes," Amy huffed in response. "Lots." I nuzzled my face upon her neck and held it there, taking in the wondrous, fresh scent of Amy's strawberry perfume. Remembering past pregnancies with Kristanna and Pamela, I knew that I would be devoting a lot of time and effort to Amy - much more than any of the other women in our lives - during the next several weeks until our daughter was born. As her husband and Dani Grace's father-to-be, it would be my duty to soothe and coddle Amy through the tough times ahead. I was going to do everything within my power to make certain that she would feel comfortable, and perfectly at ease, both before and after our little angel was born. "AMY!" Lindsay exclaimed as she entered the bedroom, hopping up-and-down like a bunny rabbit on steroids, as Trish followed behind her. "Amy!" Lindsay darted over toward us and climbed over top of me, resting her stomach on my side, and shared a spirited, emotional embrace with Amy. "Hi baby!" Amy greeted her in return, laughing gently, as they kissed. "Oh... it's so good to see you!" "Hmmmmm, I've missed you!" Lindsay growled, giggling. The two ladies kissed yet again as Trish sat down beside me and clutched my shoulder in a display of affection. "You okay?" I asked Trish, reaching out and touching her stomach. Of course, Trish, along with Lindsay and Amy, was pregnant. All three of them were carrying a child of mine, although Trish was only six weeks along, and Lindsay five. Neither of them were anywhere close to showing yet. "I'm fine," Trish assured me. "Perfectly fine." "Where are the others?" "Krissy and Pamela are putting Kaden and Piper down in their cribs as we speak," she mused. "Devon and Scarlett stopped for a quick snack in the kitchen." Trish smiled at me. "I cannot believe you went to a baseball game. Do you know how jealous that makes me? I used to go and see the Blue Jays eight, ten times a year when I lived in Toronto." "We will definitely put that on the agenda the next time we are visiting your family in Toronto," I promised her. Trish giggled and poked at Lindsay's shoulder. "Do you even know a single thing about baseball at all?" Lindsay shrugged her shoulders and offered a red-faced expression to her wife. "Pitch the ball... hit the ball?" "I didn't think so," Trish chortled. I quickly got the sense that Lindsay wanted to hug and kiss on Amy all night long. Normally I would have no objections to that, of course, but Amy was not feeling up to par and I felt as if she needed her rest. "Let's allow Amy to go back to sleep," I told Lindsay, breaking up their love-fest. "She is feeling a bit ill." "Awwwww," Lindsay whined in sympathy. "No, I'm not!" Amy fired back at me. Hmmmmm... that was a _pregnant mood swing_ if I ever saw one. Amy did not seem to enjoy it that I had essentially instructed Lindsay to back off. She even raised her voice at me, and became snippy. "Go to sleep," I told Amy, my voice firm and authoritative. Lindsay knew what that tone meant. She went docile and silent just like Amy did, each of them falling into their submissive shell. "You and I are going to the doctor in the morning." Amy meekly nodded her head at me, then turned her face to the side and closed her eyes. Still, she and Lindsay shared a few quick-hitting kisses before they both fell asleep. * * * "Okay, what were the categories again?" I asked Pamela, who was reclining on the sofa beside me, her legs draped over and across my lap. Dressed in a pair of faded denim jeans and a snug-fitting tank-top, but having foregone the use of any shoes or socks, I used this golden opportunity to lovingly knead and massage Pamela's pretty, bare feet. "There are four categories," Pamela reminded me. "Smart, sexy, funny and cute. But you can only be two things. Like Kristanna would be funny and sexy. Scarlett would be smart and sexy. You get it? Only two things. So, what am I?" "Wait," I said. "What am I again?" "You're smart and cute." "Okay," I nodded. "You're sexy. Very, very sexy." I weighed the three remaining options. "And cute." "No, that's not right!" Pamela insisted, gently flailing her arms and hands at me. "Sexy and cute are both in the looks column. Nobody wants to be all in one column." "I really would be lying if I did not say that you are all four, which obviously you are," I mused. "Especially sexy." "You're the best," Pamela grinned, sitting up and lunging forward, tossing her arms around me for a touching embrace. The time may have been 3:27am, but Pamela and I were wide awake on this Friday morning as we idly hung out and lounged together on the sofa in the central room of our estate. It took some effort, but Pamela and I were finally able to get Piper to go back to sleep in her crib about an hour ago. Since that time, Pamela and I had been reuniting and making up for the five days we had been apart from each other. Everyone else was fast asleep in the master bedroom. "I almost called you the other night," Pamela murmured, biting her lower lip as if she was about to say something forbidden. "I was so worked up and lonely for you. I... I wanted to call you, Jeremy, and have phone sex with you." My eyes went wide at those words. Phone sex? With Pamela? "Oh, you should have called me. You definitely should have." Pamela reclined back on the sofa yet again and giggled at me. "I came close, trust me. But I know what a great time that you and Lindsay were having during your little vacation. I thought... I don't know, like maybe... I would intrude, or something. That was your time to be alone together." "If you EVER want to have phone sex with me again, honey, you stop whatever you are doing and make that call," I told her with a grin. "I don't care who I am with, or what I am doing. You promise me now... you will make that call." She slapped my shoulder. "You sound just like a man!" Pamela giggled a bit. It was obvious that she was extremely relaxed now and at ease, and very happy that I was back in her life. "How many times... did you and Lindsay actually fool around during the trip, and have sex?" "Just once," I answered, which apparently Pamela did not believe at first. So, I elaborated, "On the flight from Norway to the United States, we took a shower together and wound up back in the bedroom. But that was it, really. It was mostly a nice... platonic, little trip. We took a few other showers together, but nothing really happened in them." Pamela grinned at me, the expression upon her face full of wanton mischief. "So that means you're rested?" I chuckled. "Lindsay and I had sex nearly every single day for weeks until official word came that she was pregnant. It was nice to take a break, honestly, and just spend time, be around Lindsay the actual person. You know? We had so much fun together in Ohio. I actually feel as if I got to know her a lot better... her background and stuff." Pamela smiled, her effervescent, champagne-brown eyes twinkling. "I bet Lindsay had the time of her life with you." "Any crying episodes from Piper this week that I should know of?" I asked, referring to our 7-month-old daughter. "No, I think her colic is finally gone for good." During the first few months of her life, Piper was a _colicky baby_. A mystery to medical professionals, colic is a term that applies to any healthy, well-fed infant who excessively cries for more than three hours per day, three times per week, for three consecutive weeks. Unfortunately, Piper suffered from this early on. But it was a common ailment and the pediatrician, after two thorough examinations, ruled out any cause for concern (such as an irregular heartbeat or acid reflux, for example). He told us to wade through it, and Piper's colic problem would disappear on its own once she reached four or five months old. Sure enough, Piper had been crying a lot less in recent weeks. She was back to being a normal baby now. Still, it had not been easy to watch my newborn daughter cry for hours at a time. She had been experiencing some sort of discomfort somewhere, yet we had no idea what it was. I was simply happy that the problem appeared to be resolved now. I tapped Pamela on the chin a few times until she was looking right at me. "You, my dear... I've missed you this week. I missed all of the girls." A smile danced across her face. "We missed you, too. And Lindsay. Trish was going insane without her around. Krissy and I were watching old videos of you in the voyeur room, reminiscing about memories from the island." I moved until my lips were just centimeters away from Pamela's, our breath mingling in the space between us. I leaned closer, tilting my head to the right, until my lips were brushing against hers and I could hear the rapid beat of her heart in the space between us. Suddenly, I wanted this woman. Bad. "I love you, Pamela. I love you so much." A smile curved up one side of her mouth. A very sexy, seductive and amazing smile that soon overtook her face. "I love you too, Jeremy. You're everything to me. You and Krissy, actually... everything." Pamela giggled like a schoolgirl as I reached out and pawed at one of her breasts through the tank-top she wore. It was incredibly thin and, since she did not have a bra on underneath, offered little barrier. "What are you trying to get at?" "Those titties," I answered, using a word that did not come out of my mouth all that often. Still, Pamela chuckled regardless. She was definitely comfortable, and at ease. But then, Pamela surged into me, her hands tangling in my hair, crushing the distance between us. It was hard, it was fast, it was incredible; almost like a dam bursting. Just that quickly, Pamela was kissing me and yanking my shirt out of the waistband of my trousers. My head pounding, desire coursed throughout every vein within my body. Pamela got my shirt off and tossed it to the side, and then her hands were on my skin. Whatever arousal I previously felt was nothing compared to the nuclear bomb that her touch ignited. Pamela pulled back, though, again biting her lower lip and smiling shyly at me. "I've wanted to do that all week!" "What? Kiss me like a crazy woman?" "Yes!" Pamela moved back even further, then popped one of her incredibly large, yet firm breasts out from beneath the fabric of her tank-top. With an awe-inspiring 38d-24-37 figure, Pamela's breasts were what dreams were made of. "Oh wow," I reacted, grasping that breast and squeezing it firmly. "Let's get them both out." I pulled her neckline down even further, exposing the opposite breast. Pamela enjoyed the attention; she laughed as I cupped the warm, sweet globes, rolling their exquisite flesh within my hands. "They don't want to come out!" Pamela exclaimed, making a reference to how the top was taut and strained against her. I traced my thumbs over her nipples and she gasped, arching her back forward and jutting her breasts out even further. I took a moment to allow my eyes to focus as the lights in the room bathed Pamela's skin with a soft gold glow. I used a single finger to dab at the corner of her mouth, and she giggled yet again in response. "You are beautiful." Pamela blushed, pale crimson filling her cheeks and flushing her chest. God, I loved this woman so much. "Oh my God," I gasped, as Pamela simply pulled her tank-top up and over her head, disposing of it completely. She was beaming at my reaction as I stared slack-jawed at her topless form. The 32-year-old cupped her breasts with both hands and squished them together, then jiggled them about. I placed two fingers between the lush, deepened valley of her cleavage and Pamela trapped them there with her breasts, as if they were my cock. She squeezed as hard and as tight as she could, applying maximum pressure. She glanced down at my fingers and chortled, "I want a pearl necklace!" "Okay." I said, coming to a realization. "You need to give me a blowjob now." "Oh really?" Pamela laughed. "Really." She effortlessly dropped to her knees in front of the sofa and gave me a military salute. "Yes sir!" I watched Pamela with appreciative eyes beneath me as she began the process. "Oh, you would have a belt on," she complained, needing a few extra seconds to unbuckle and then unloop it. She pulled my trousers and briefs down and then, my erection, full and throbbing as it was, popped out before her very eyes. "Well, hello!" she squealed. Pamela gave the underside of my shaft two long, sweeping licks with her tongue, then took its tip into her mouth momentarily. "I've wanted to do this all week, too!" She gripped the base of my cock and then began to work its upper half into her hot, insatiable mouth. "Oh my God, you are amazing," I commented as Pamela stared up at me with those languorous, round eyes of hers. She began to bob her head back-and-forth at a slow, but steady pace, the expression upon her face indicating that she was experiencing just as much, if not more, pleasure than I was at the moment. "Those eyes are so pretty," I gasped, which did nothing but prompt Pamela to focus her gaze on me even more. "Oh yes sweetheart, that's it," I said as she withdrew my shaft from her mouth, only to swipe and dab at my testicles with her velvety tongue. She sucked one into her mouth for a moment, then trailed her tongue up the full, rigid underside of my erection and again took it into her hungry, greedy mouth. "I love your cock," Pamela murmured. "It loves you." Pamela began to frig her hand up-and-down the length of my shaft, her mouth following suit and swallowing more of me in the process. I reached down and grabbed my cock, abruptly pulling it from her mouth, and tilted it upward until its tip was touching my abdomen. With my testicles suddenly dangling before her face, Pamela got the idea and started to lovingly twirl her tongue in circles all along their sensitive flesh. "I know you like being told what to do, even though you act like you don't." Pamela laughed at me. "Maybe." "I didn't say stop. Keep licking my balls." Pamela did as instructed, but when she closed her eyes, I violently flung my shaft forward and bopped her forehead with it. "You big jerk!" my wife squeaked at me, giggling wildly. I smacked her forehead with my cock again for good measure. I stepped back, then got rid of the trousers and briefs which had been bunched together at my thighs. I placed my hands on either side of Pamela and gently pulled her upward until she was standing before me. I flicked open the clasp of her jeans, then slid them down her shapely hips and legs, and off. Suddenly, Pamela was wearing nothing but a little pair of G-string panties. But they became a distant memory too as she quickly got rid of them. Pamela was an incredible woman, intoxicating, strong and amazing. I began kissing her again, her lips, her neck, her breasts, her abdomen, every square inch of her that I could never quite get enough of. And when I dropped to my knees and kissed Pamela at the joining of her thighs, she gasped breathlessly and her hands dug into my hair. Needing to satisfy my own lust, I stood and hoisted Pamela into my arms, then took her over to the edge of the sofa and set her down there. She eyed me expectedly as I spun her around and bent her over the arm of the sofa, her legs spread and feet on the floor, her shoulders and the side of her face now upon the cushion. It was a lewd position for her to be in, yes, but it was perfect for what I had in mind. Pamela grunted and cried out in arousal as I grasped her hips with both hands and thrusted my cock into her from behind, one long, smooth glide, then another, another, another, until I was lost in the amazing world that was Pamela and she was calling my name in a soft, pleading tone. Her blonde hair, ore-gold bright and luxurious, whipped and shimmied about as I pounded myself into her even faster. I staked my claim to not only Pamela's body, but her soul as well, as I slapped her upturned ass with my hands not once, not twice, but three times. The strict, but not too harsh level of discipline only added to the wondrous sensations for both of us. Soon, our bodies were bumping together quite violently, the sound of my pelvis crashing upon her ass reverberating throughout the spacious room. "Oh my God!" Pamela cried out as I spanked her some more, but then decided to up the ante. Reaching forward with both hands, I grasped her long-flowing hair just beneath her neck. Pamela growled like a wild animal as I pulled back, arching her neck and head in the process, only to then thrust my cock in-and-out of her again. "Oh my God!" Pamela repeated as I hammered her from behind, my hands not about to release their grip or the tension on her hair. "Oh my God! I'm so wet! Oh my God!" Her body twitched and convulsed beneath me, her breasts flopping about madly. "JEREMY!" she roared out. "JEREMY, I'M GOING TO... OHHHHH!" Pamela's magnificent body contracted into me with a massive spasm. At the same time, I released her hair and wrapped my arms around her from behind, pulling her as close as possible. My legs trembling, my hips bucking, I came inside of Pamela. I came hard, and with intense emotion. I nearly passed out. I held her there until our hearts slowed and our breathing evened out. When I released Pamela, she sort of just wilted and crumpled onto the sofa as if it was her final act in life. Quite the contrary; in reality, it was just Pamela absorbing and processing the aftermath of such a heated sexual encounter. Eventually, I helped Pamela sit up on the sofa and handed her clothes back to her, though I would have preferred to stare at her beautiful body in all its naked glory for the next 100 years. "Stay," I whispered. "Stay with me here tonight. We can fall asleep together in the pull-out bed on this sofa." Pamela raised those alluring brown eyes to me and smiled. "There is no other place I'd rather be." <<<- End of Chapter 18 ->>> ==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----== "Island Fever 4: Paradise" (c) 2015 JeremyDCP - JeremyDCP@hotmail.com Feedback is always appreciated!