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Island Fever 6: Sanctuary
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 08: "Asininity"
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             -*-  Sunday, October 9, 2016  -*-
                    -*-  Lima, Peru  -*-


   The poster on the white wall just beside me showed the
image of a transparent upper skeletal system.  I focused on
the spine portion and, inside the drawing, I was able to see
every bone, tendon and ligament that made up one of our most
precious commodities as human beings.  I marveled at the many
intricacies so small, yet capable of ruining my entire life.
   After collapsing earlier on the island due to unyielding
discomfort in my lower back, I found myself resting in an
examination room at _Hospital de la Solidaridad_ in downtown
Lima, Peru.  I was brought to this huge medical center via
emergency helicopter, courtesy of a private company, several
hours ago and had gone through a wide battery of tests since.
   I glanced over at Scarlett, who was sitting in a chair 
against the wall, as I lay motionless in the hospital bed.
Scarlett was busy tapping away on her cellular telephone, no
doubt texting the rest of the ladies, all of whom were still 
on the island and concerned for my safety and well being.
   Scarlett, a labor and delivery nurse back home in Norway, 
had really taken charge once she learned that I had somehow
injured my back earlier this afternoon and was unable to get
off of the floor on my own.  She had been angry at me for our 
earlier arguments, when I was stubborn and bull-headed in 
ignoring her warnings that I take it easy on my back, which
I originally tweaked yesterday during the hike with Amy and
Dani Grace.  Yet after the BDSM session with Alison, my back
gave out completely and Scarlett put our squabbling aside (at
least temporarily) and quickly leapt into caregiver mode.
   She assessed the situation and immediately instructed Amy 
to put ice on my lower back for 20 minutes.  Kristanna got a
damp washcloth and continually swiped my forehead with it 
because she could tell that I was in a world of hurt.  After
all, I could not even manage to get up and stand on my own.
All the while, Scarlett was on the telephone with a private 
medical transport company based in Lima which I had dealt 
with in the past.  "The price, the cost, is not an issue," I
remember her telling them.  "We need an emergency helicopter
here immediately.  My husband is in extreme pain."
   Less than an hour-and-a-half later, I was actually strapped
to a gurney by medical personnel and put in the helicopter, 
and whisked off to the hospital here in Lima.  Scarlett went 
with me, of course (she considered herself the family's one 
true avenging protector), but the rest of the ladies (and all
of the children (including my six-month-old son with Scarlett, 
Dylan)) were left behind.  Scarlett even got into an argument 
with one of the medical attendants in the helicopter about
how many cubic centimeters (CCs) of a certain type of medicine
I should be given while en route to the hospital.
   The staff here at the hospital was very prompt in seeing
and caring for me.  Dr. Monteverde asked me all sorts of
questions concerning my medical history, and how I had dealt
with degenerative arthritis and how often it flared on me in
the past, while going through a physical examination.  I was
then taken away for MRI of my back and pelvis, as well as an
X-ray of both.  I had to do breathing exercises and the nurse
actually measured my chest when I both inhaled and exhaled,
and she drew several samples of blood from me, too.
   I sighed and focused on Scarlett, still busy texting away
away on her hand-held mobile device.  She looked understated
yet chic in casual attire; a farmer girl style beige jacket,
a striped top, blue jeans and red ballet flat shoes.  We had
not said much to each other over the prior 30 or so minutes.
   "I'm sorry."
   Scarlett glanced up at me, nonplussed, her green eyes hid
behind an aviator style pair of _Ray-Bans_ sunglasses.  My
wife had been quick to come to my aid and oversaw that I was
brought here in the timeliest of fashions, but was none too
happy with me regardless.  "Sorry for what?"
   I felt meager.  Small.  "For not listening to you."
   Scarlett exhaled a deep breath and removed her sunglasses.
"Maybe now you will?  I know you want to run off and have fun
with your kids, Jeremy, pick them up and play with them, all
those things.  You have eight of them and, when you marry
Alison, you will have eight wives as well.  Your body is under
a tremendous amount of strain and pressure every day just to
keep up with everything that is happening in your life.  But
you HAVE to SLOW THINGS DOWN and be a little more smart, pace
yourself better.  You have a very bad back as it is."  Her 
eyes flashed with anger at me.  "And when your back is hurting 
you, Jeremy - like it has been since you woke up this morning - 
you cannot go and bang the hell out of one of your wives, or 
your fiancee, like you did with Alison today.  It just wasn't 
a very smart thing for you to do."
   "I'll listen to your advice from now on," I promised, and
I intended on staying true to my word.  "I hate being couped
up in the hospital like this, not knowing what my fate is."
I hesitated for a moment.  "How's our son doing on the island?"
   "Trish just texted me and says he is napping."  We thought
about bringing Dylan along, but knew that he would not enjoy
the ferocious sound of the spinning helicopter blades on the
trip here.  Devon and Trish volunteered to keep an eye on him
for as long as I had to stay at the hospital.
   I frowned.  "And everyone else?"
   "They're worried to death about you and your back."
   I chuckled pathetically.  "I can't blame them.  So am I."
   "Lindsay WILL NOT stop texting me..."
   The door to the examination room opened, and Dr. Monteverde
offered us a polite, friendly smile.
   "So what's the verdict?" Scarlett asked nervously before
he could even say a word.  In his hand, Dr. Monteverde held
a manila folder with my first and last name on it, which
surely contained the various imaging screens and test results
I had went through earlier.  He had been studying them, right?
   "Is there a fix for my back?"
   "Your diagnosis is a bit more complex this time around
compared to your last spinal check-up, Mr. [Last Name], in
2015."  The Peruvian doctor spoke fluent English, which was
a bonus.  "Fortunately, the hospital in Norway was gracious
enough to fax us the results of your previous tests."  Dr.
Monteverde took a seat on the black stool beside my bed as
Scarlett stood up, looking worried.  "The degenerative
arthritis in your lower spine has progressed, and you are
now suffering from ankylosing spondylitis."
   Huh?  What?
   What the hell did he just say to me?
   "Ankylosing spondylitis is an inflammatory disease of the
spine which has caused two of your lower verterbrae to actually
fuse together," he continued.  "Fortunately your case is mild,
and steps can be taken to help prevent it from getting worse."
   All I really heard, though, was one word.  "Disease?"  I
was petrified.  My wives.  My kids.  "Did you say... disease?"
Disease as in... deadly disease?
   "It's not what you think!" Scarlett fretted, latching onto
my hand with her own and squeezing tight.  "Listen to the man,
Jeremy, and let him explain..."
   "You have an overgrowth in one of your lower vertebrae
which has led to an abnormal joining of bones," the doctor
told me again, yet in a different way than before.  "We also
believe that the spondylitis is the source of the pain in
various other ligaments and tendons that you have.  That
constant feeling of discomfort you have in your left foot,
Mr. [Last Name], behind your heel, near your Achilles tendon?
Ankylosing spondylitis is the cause of it, as well."
   I gulped my throat.  This was my spine he was talking
about.  The thing that controlled all movements throughout my
body.  I had to take better care of myself!  "What can be
done about it, Dr. Monteverde... if anything?"
   Plus, I never made mention of the stiffness that I felt on 
the back end of my left food, but it had been pestering me on a
constant basis for the past six months.  I only brought it up
earlier when the doctor was asking me if I felt any chronic
aches or pains, even minor ones.
   "Spondylitis is a chronic disease, an illness, that you
will have for the rest of your life, Mr. [Last Name]," he
informed me.  "There is no clear-cut, definite cure for it.
You can lead an entirely normal and routine life if you take
the necessary steps to safeguard yourself.  You will need to
keep in close contact with your doctor, preferably a
rheumatologist, and get both physical and occupational
therapy."  He glanced at Scarlett for a moment.  "I trust
that your wife, a nurse she tells me, will see to it that
you get the proper care."
   "Oh, you know he will," Scarlett told him.
   "Daily exercise, especially swimming, will go a long way
for you, Mr. [Last Name]," Dr. Monteverde added.
   "Will I need surgery?"
   "Surgery for ankylosing spondylitis is only done in the
most extreme of cases," the phyiscian answered, "and yours,
at the moment, is still considered mild.  Let's keep it that
way, shall we?  Exercise, a proper diet, sleeping in the
optimal position at night.  A nurse will give you all of
the information that you need when you are discharged."
   "Discharged?  I'm getting discharged?"  I was under the
impression that I may be in the hospital for a long time...
   "Hopefully," Dr. Monteverde smiled.  "We will give you an
epidural injection to help ease your immediate pain, and
prescribe some medication as well for the long-term.  You
should be back home, Mr. [Last Name], within a few hours if
everything works out according to plan."  He patted my wrist.
"Your lower back is really inflamed right now and, when you
feel tender and sore in the future, take a step back and
relax for awhile.  Try not to overexert yourself, okay?"
   "What type of medicine are you going to prescribe for him?"
Scarlett inquired.  "DMARDs?"
   The doctor looked at Scarlett with wide eyes and had to
suppress a chuckle.  "Disease modifying anti-rheumatic drugs?
Your husband's illness is not that far progressed, ma'am,
where he needs something as strong as them."  Scarlett nodded
at him, taking his word, as the physician concluded,  "He
should respond well to a NSAID such as _Naproxen_."
   "What's an... N... S...?"  I was lost.
   "Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug," Scarlett said.
   "Your epidural will be administered by an interventional 
radiologist elsewhere in the hospital,"  Dr. Monteverde said, 
standing up from the stool.  "Take good care of yourself, Mr. 
[Last Name], and remember that the future of your back and 
its health is in your hands.  Be careful.  You do not want to 
have back surgery, such as an osteotomy.  Yet if you continue 
to overexert yourself, it may turn out to be the only option.  
And again, you do not want that."  He turned toward Scarlett
and shook her hand.  "It was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am."
   "I will get you an appointment to see Dr. Molberg at the
university hospital in Oslo once we return home to Norway,"
Scarlett told me after Dr. Monteverde stepped out of the
examination room.  "Dr. Molberg is the chief head of the
Rheumatology Research Group, or _Rikshospitalet_ as it's 
called in my language, and a close, personal friend of mine.
He will take good care of you, Jeremy."
   "What was that surgery Dr. Monteverde spoke of?"
   "An osteotomy?"  Scarlett made a face.  "An osteotomy is
the LAST THING you want.  Just take care of your back from 
this point forward, and you won't need it."
   "But what exactly is it?"  I was curious.  Morbidly so...
   "The bones that the emergency room doctor said that are 
fused together?" she began.  "An osteotomy is when those 
bones, the vertebrae, are cut and then realigned.  It could 
be combined with spinal fusion surgery where there are rods, 
bars, wires or screws inserted to help provide added stability.  
And in the recovery process, for up to six months, you would 
have to wear a halo brace to immobilize your spine."  My eyes 
went wide as Scarlett added, "The halo, a metal ring, would be 
secured to your skull with pins and you would have to wear a 
specially fitted jacket called a TLSO, or a thoracolumbar 
sacral orthotic, until your spine is fully healed."
   "You don't need that, Jeremy, as your condition is not
that bad," she reminded me, running her hand up and down my
chest.  All I could think about, though, was having a halo 
above my head with pins attached to my skull.  Terrifying! 
"My God, you look as pale as a ghost now.  Don't worry, baby, 
take care of yourself, and you won't ever need that surgery.  
It's only done in extreme cases where there is a deformity,
such as being hunched over so far with your normal posture 
that you cannot do the most routine of things.  Some people 
have ankylosing spondylitis in their neck, for example, and 
their head is permanently tilted down so their chin is 
touching the front of their neck.  They cannot even eat in 
that position.  A case like that, surgery is required.  You 
are nowhere close to that and, as long as you take care of 
yourself, you will never get there.  BUT if you continue to
push yourself, overexert yourself, you will need it."
   "Just tell me what I need to do, Scarlett, to take care of
myself from now on."  I was scared out of my mind!  "Please?"
   "I will," she promised.  "But it's going to start with you
seeing my friend, Dr. Molberg, at the university hospital in
Oslo once we get home from our vacation.  You're going to do
everything he tells you, Jeremy."  Scarlett leaned down close
and looked me square in the eyes.  "EVERYTHING, right?"
   "Yes," I quaked.  "Everything.  I swear!"

                           * * *

   I was taken elsewhere in the hospital and given a sedative
by a new nurse.  I was placed atop a special table, face down,
and a interventional radiologist (whose name I did not catch)
inserted a needle into my back and toward my spine.  I felt a
slight twinge, but otherwise no pain as a live X-ray called a
fluoroscopy allowed the radiologist to maneuver the epidural
into the correct position of my spine and, with the aid of a
contrast dye, a solution was injected that contained a steroid
medicine (corticosteroid) that should provide prompt relief.
   I was given a prescription for _Naproxen_, which I would
have to take several times a day until the bottle ran out to
help manage the ongoing discomfort in my back going forward.
Scarlett said she would pick it up in the hospital pharmacy
before we left the facility tonight.  She also made sure to
get copies of all of the tests and imaging results, presumably
for the doctor in Norway who I would eventually go see.
   I had some time to rest and recuperate from the sedative as
another nurse went over my discharge instructions.  When I
returned home, she suggested seeing a specialist and getting
both physical and occupational therapy.  The nurse implored
that ongoing therapy was vitally important to maintain
function and minimize any possible deformities.  She also
mentioned exercise, such as swimming, and daily breathing
exercises that would help keep my chest cage flexible.
   I was then told to always sleep on a firm mattress with my
back down and straight.  That would be somewhat of a problem,
as I had been a side sleeper my entire life ("We are going to
work on changing that, Jeremy," Scarlett proclaimed).  Also,
I was not to use oversized pillows underneath my head or legs
and, under no circumstances, should I take any sudden impact,
such as jumping or falling.  It all seemed very cut and dry.
Proper diet was not an issue for me, as I ate very healthy.
   My back was still quite sore, but I was able to get into the
waiting SUV in the hospital parking lot without assistance from
Scarlett, and we made our way to the airport.  There, our
personal family pilot and my good friend, Captain Mike, was
waiting for us in a helicopter that Kristanna had arranged for.
Mike took us to the island; we landed on the northern beach at 
2:37am in the wee, early hours of Monday morning.  He dropped 
us off and then flew back to his own two wives in Lima.
   I sat in the passenger seat of my old and battered 1987
_Jeep Wrangler_ as Scarlett drove us up to the mansion.  Once
there, I was immediately greeted by seven of the most lovely
women in the whole, wide world, all of whom seemed one part 
happy, one part emotional to greet me in my current state.
   "I'm sorry I ruined your birthday," I told Kristanna,
hugging her.  "I went and messed up my back something bad."
   "You didn't ruin anything," Kristanna insisted.  "All that
matters is that you are home now.  We're going to take care of
you from now on, Jeremy, just like you have taken care of us."
   "No more long and strenuous hikes for you with an antsy
toddler strapped to your back," Amy said, pointing a finger my
way, when it was her turn to kiss and shower me with affection.
"I should have took Dani Grace off of your hands."
   "Are you okay?" Pamela fretted, upset.  "You don't look good
at all.  I don't like seeing you like this, Jeremy."
   I ran my hand over Pamela's blossoming baby bump.  "I'll be
fine, honey.  I just need to rest and take it easy for a couple
of days until my back feels completely better."
   "And then watch what you do from now on," Scarlett added.
   "Yes," I agreed.
   "I'm still mad at you because of that dream you had about my
mom!" Lindsay barked at me, but her softer side was clearly
evident as well.  "Yet I still love you, Jeremy, and you being
away at the hospital without knowing what the doctors would
say helped put things back in perspective for me.  We still
need to talk at some point, but I think I forgive you."
   "You think?"
   "I THINK," she clarified, emphasizing that word.  "But I
could not bear the thought of something being wrong with you,
like a permanent disability, or something."
   "He is old, you know," Kristanna teased.
   "Oh, I know," Lindsay nodded, grinning.  But the fangs 
soon came out again.  "Some of the girls tried to tell me 
that I overreacted way too much, Jeremy - it was just a 
dream that you had no control over - but I do not think so."
   "It WAS just a dream!" I implored.
   "No."  Lindsay shook her head at me.  "There has to be a 
reason you would have a dream like that.  I will find out.  And 
when I do, I hope, for your sake, it was for a good reason."
   Sigh...
   "Lindsay, stop raising your voice at him," Pamela pleaded.
"It's way too late, and Jeremy just home from the hospital.
Give him some breathing space for awhile, okay?"
   Lindsay took a step back and nodded at Pamela.
   "Lindsay has been a 'lil monster today!" Kristanna grinned,
talking to no one inparticular.  "I kind of like it."
   "I can help with your physical therapy, at least at home,"
Trish told me.  "There are plenty of at-home exercises we can
do to help strengthen and solidify your back once you are
feeling better.  You'll still need to go and see the experts,
of course, but I'm more than qualified to help you at home."
   "Get some rest and relaxation," Devon said in my ear,
hugging me.  "You're going to need it."  She then giggled
and added, "Remember that promise I made to Mom when we were
in Pennsylvania?  She wants another grandchild.  You and I
have to work on giving her one, right?"
   "Oh yes," I nodded.  "We do."  Devon needed to be pregnant
in a hurry.  Like, it should have happened two years ago.
   But when I got to the end of the line, to Alison, she began
crying.  Profusely.  "It's all my fault you hurt your back and
spent so many hours at the hospital, Jeremy!"
   "Hey, no it's not," I countered.  "Sweetheart, stop.  Don't
cry.  It's my own fault, not yours."
   "You had sex with me and hurt your back!" Alison wailed.
   "It's not your fault," I reiterated, but Kristanna was
slowly pulling me away.
   "Come on, Jeremy," she said.  "You and I are going to bed.
It is my birthday, at least it was until three hours ago, and
I'm getting a present from you tonight.  I'm claiming you for
the night.  We're going to cuddle, and I'm going to make
certain that you fall asleep with no discomfort whatsoever."
   Scarlett stepped toward Alison, who was still crying.  "Why
did you cut the feed in the voyeur room to the guest cottage?"
   "What?" Alison whined in response.
   "You went to see Jeremy earlier in the guest cottage, but
only after cutting the camera in there first," Scarlett said.
"Why?  What did you not want us to see?  He hurt his back
with you.  Were you hiding something from us?"
   Ummmmm... just Alison proclaiming that she wanted to add a
Daddy Dom and little girl dynamic to our BDSM play when we
were alone from now on?  Yet, with the voyeur room, were any
of us ever truly alone?  Oh yeah, that's right... only when
the surveillance equipment was disabled.
   And, oh!  Alison also admitted to me that she had a very
lustful, forbidden attraction toward her very own mother.
Apparently, she had felt that way for years.  That was the
reason Alison cut the feed to the guest cottage.  She did not
want the others, particularly Lindsay, to know of her shame.
How would Lindsay take that news, considering the reaction
she had following the dream I had about their mother?
   "Can't a girl have any privacy?" Alison spat out, upset.
   "This marriage is supposed to be an open book," Scarlett
told her, becoming a bit angry as well.  "You want to marry
in and be part of the family, Alison, you don't cut the feed
in the voyeur room and go off and have a secret meeting!"
   "Leave her alone, Scarlett!" Lindsay snapped.  "Can't you
tell that Ali is upset over what happened to Jeremy?  Now is
not the time to be accusing her of anything!"
   "There are so many different people, so many different 
personalities, in this marriage, this relationship," Trish
told Alison.  "We just think being open and honest with each
other is the best way to go.  Helps eliminate... issues."
   "You don't need to hear any of that, Jeremy," Kristanna
said, guiding me out of the central room and toward the
master bedroom.  Yet I still glanced back, worried that there
was a mini argument going on, but Kristanna kept moving me
away.  "It's the middle of the night and both Kaden and Ariel
are fast asleep.  All of your kids are.  No need to check on
them with the way your back is - we're going to sleep."
   "Alison, WHAT are you HIDING?" I heard Scarlett growl.
   "STOP IT!" Lindsay whined.  "Leave her alone!"
   Once we were in the master bedroom and Kristanna had
helped strip me down to my boxers, I lay flat on my back
upon the mattress with her nestled close to me.  I tried to
block the drama which took place in the central room from my
mind.  After a few moments, I glanced over at my wife and 
casually asked, "Did you have a good birthday?"
   Kristanna, ever jovial, giggled.  "No.  Not quite!  We all
spent the afternoon and evening glued to our telephones,
texting Scarlett back-and-forth.  I didn't even have a party
or get any presents from anyone."
   I sighed.  "I'm so sorry, Krissy."
   She shook her head at me.  "Don't be.  We can have the
party tonight, or another time.  I don't really care about
it, to tell you the truth.  Besides, I ultimately got the best
present of all."  Kristanna grinned and tapped me on the
nose.  "You, and your health.  You're going to be okay.  You
looked in pretty dire straits earlier, you know.  But Kaden
is going to be able to grow up and kick a soccer ball around
with you in the back yard after all.  This makes me happy."
   "How were the kids tonight?"
   "I told Kaden and Piper that you went down to the beach to
go swimming with Scarlett," Kristanna frowned.  "I hated
lying, but I did not want to upset either of them and say
that Daddy had a bad back, and was in the hospital.  Dani Grace
had trouble going to sleep without you there with her, but that
is nothing new, I suppose."  Kristanna traced her right hand up
and down my side, per her usual, caring nature.  "Your back has
bothered you forever, Jeremy.  When we first met nearly eight
years ago, there were times when you favored it.  You have
probably had this _spondifitus_ for a long, long time."
   "Spondifitus?" I laughed.  "It's ankylosing spondylitis,
sweetheart, and apparently I just recently contracted it.  I
did not have it last time my back was examined."
   "Oh, you probably did," Kristanna countered.  "It was just
not showing up on any of the tests yet.  I did my research on
the Internet and read countless articles about your ailment.
People can develop it in their teens, and it may go undetected
for up to two or three decades.  Then, poof, there it is."
Kristanna placed a gentle, soothing kiss upon my shoulder.
"Can I ask you something unrelated, Jeremy?"
   "Of course you can."
   "What was your little meeting with Alison about at the
guest cottage?"  My eyes widened in response to Kristanna's
question, and I momentarily glanced away.  I made a promise
to Alison that I would not tell any of the others about the
attraction, taboo as it was, that she felt for her very own
mother.  They would all find out about the Daddy Dom and
little girl scenario that Alison wanted to experiment in with
me in due time, I expect, but the information about her mother
was supposed to be classified, top secret.
   "My... little meeting?"  I was trying to come across as an
innocent.  But I was failing miserably.  And I had learned
over the years, there was no fooling Kristanna.  The woman
was like a sponge.  She soaked up everything.
   "What was it about, Jeremy?" my wife insisted.  "Alison
refuses to tell us.  That's why Scarlett jumped all over her
once the two of you got back home.  Scarlett and I have been
texting all day about it.  Everyone knows that Alison
deactivated the live cameras in the guest cottage and went
there to talk to you about something.  What happened there?
Obviously, you two had sex, and you hurt your back.  But
Alison would not deactivate the cameras just to have sex with
you.  Why did she do it?  What did she say to you?"
   I shook my head and groaned.  "Just something very personal
that Alison wanted to discuss with me, Krissy."  Oh my; it was
ripping me to shreds inside not being able to fess up, and
tell Kristanna the whole story.  But I couldn't.  I just...
couldn't.  Never before had I withheld anything from this
woman.  But, I had to stay true to my promise.
   Kristanna looked deeply at me, her lovely, yet inquisitive
blue eyes studying my expression.  Gauging.  Assessing.
Trying to piece the puzzle together.  "Was it anything bad?"
   I stifled a pathetic laugh, which was probably not the
best thing for me to do right now.  Kristanna caught onto it
immediately.  I mean, was it bad?  Alison's attraction for
her mother?  Honestly, I did not know.  Normally I would say
yes, but this was the same girl who was going to marry her
sister this coming Saturday night.  Everyone here was so
looking forward to that.  Was it bad within the context, the
structure, of our family and the lifestyle we had built?
After all, no secrets, no shame... just pure love.
   And total honesty.
   "It has nothing to do with you, Krissy, or any of the other
girls here on the island," I offered, choosing my words quite
carefully.  "Alison made me promise that I would not tell
anyone, and I intend on keeping that promise.  It is something
deeply personal for her, and she wanted... she wanted advice."
Advice?  Alison wanted advice?
   "Okay," Kristanna nodded, accepting my words as gospel.  "I
believe you.  If you will not tell me, I understand why now.
But I have a feeling that the other girls will not let you off
of the hook so easily, Jeremy.  It was a major topic of
discussion the whole time you were gone.  Everyone is curious,
and poor, little Alison was bombarded with questions.  Your
other wives will be coming to you next, and they will not be
as lenient with you like I was."  Kristanna sighed and ended,
"Alison won't even tell Lindsay about it."
   Why would she?  Alison probably feared that Lindsay would
go ballistic on her, just as she had done with me yesterday.
Still, Lindsay had every right to act the way she did when
finding out that I had a dream about her mother.  Never will
I forget the look on her face when she brutally slapped me.
Overreaction or not, my belief was that I truly deserved it.
   "Hey, Scarlett," Kristanna greeted, perking up and smiling
at our wife as she entered the master bedroom.  "What are you
doing here?  Thought you'd be checking on Dylan."
   "Just trying to earn my keep," Scarlett told her, purposely
beaming, before shifting her focus toward me.  "Besides, Dylan
is sleeping peacefully.  I applaud Devon in getting him to go
to bed so easy earlier.  So... Jeremy.  How are you feeling?"
   "Better than before, but still sore."  I tried to make a
joke in saying, "Going para-sailing with Krissy tomorrow."
   "Jeremy lies," Kristanna assured Scarlett.  "Ten Norwegian
krone says he is still in this bed most of the day tomorrow.
I am very familiar with Jeremy and his miscalculations."
   "Yeah, well, I'm not so certain that is a bet I am willing
to take," Scarlett responded.  "But we are off topic."  She
took a seat on the edge of the bed and turned her body to
focus squarely on me.  I truly appreciated Scarlett's thoughtful
face, which she had on now.  Knitted brow, downcast eyes,
pursed lips.  Almost like she had reached into herself to
think things over.  "So, Jeremy," Scarlett added, finally
raising her gaze.  "You need anything before going to sleep?
Is your back feeling better or worse from when we got home?"
   "Can we talk about something other than my back?" I asked.
But I had no idea where those words came from.  Perhaps I was
simply frustrated over everything that had gone on recently?
"I'm not disabled.  Not yet, at least.  All I need is a few
days of rest, and I can resume normal, daily activities."
   Kristanna smiled at Scarlett.  "Why don't you join us in
bed?"  The 32-year-old must have thought that was a wonderful
idea, because she began discarding of her clothing rather
quickly.  "Yeah, you can keep a close watch on Jeremy that
way," Kristanna murmured, biting a finger, her blue eyes
twinkling with desire as she watched Scarlett disrobe.  "Yeah,
take it off, baby.  Take it all off.  I know that you had an
incredibly difficult day.  Bet it feels good to get rid of
those clothes, huh?  Doesn't it?"
   Instead, Scarlett went down to her bra and panties, but
stopped there.  She grabbed a blanket from the foot of the
bed and tossed one half of it to Kristanna, and promptly
settled down on the opposite side of me.  I had nothing to
complain about now; I was squished between two gorgeous,
hot blondes, and felt mostly bare, naked flesh from every
direction.  They were not antsy and rambunctious with their
movements like usual, but rather slow and gentle due to my
injury.  The physical closeness and the way my body thrummed
sent warm, soothing pulses throughout my soul.
   Kristanna propped her head up and stared across my chest
at her wife.  "I'm so happy that you are a part of the family,
Scarlett.  You're our family doctor!  When anything is wrong,
or any of us don't feel right, we know that we can go to you.
How could we possibly ever get along without you?"
   Scarlett grinned at her.  "I don't know?  How could I get
along without you, Krissy?  I've never really known someone
like you before, you know."
   "Like me how?"
   "Someone so different from me.  I've always been so quiet
and reserved.  I want to think everything through.  You're
wild and spontaneous; you live - you thrive - for the moment.
Sometimes, it's frustrating that I'm not more like you."
   "Hey," Kristanna said, bopping her on the head with a
pillow.  "This one right here," she added, pointing a finger
at me, "HE is the frustrating one in the family.  Trust me."
   Scarlett caught the pillow and pulled it from Kristanna's
grasp with a smile.  "Well, I cannot argue with you there."

                           * * *

   I checked the digital alarm clock and took a long, healthy
swig from my water bottle.  It was 2:19pm on Monday afternoon
and though I had been awake for just the past three hours, it
felt as if I had been in this bed forever.  I was mostly
relegated to bed duty in order to allow my back to rest and
recuperate.  I was allowed (yes, _allowed_ - thanks Scarlett)
to get out of bed once an hour to stretch my limbs and take a
short walk around the master bedroom, get my blood flowing, but
otherwise I was to stay in bed and take it easy.  Just ask
Scarlett; she was the one in charge.  Yet, what prison sentence
would truly be complete without the watchful eye of a guard?
   "But you're no guard," I said to Pamela, who was sleeping
away next to me upon the mattress.  Well over six months
pregnant and hot as a firecracker, Pamela looked adorable
in a white top with black checkered lines, and a pair of
blue jeans.  I found it difficult to pry my hand away from
her belly, which wanted nothing to do but caress and soothe
it.  "And if you are a guard, you're a terrible one at that."
   In her defense, Pamela had not been feeling well herself
as of late, and casually drifted off to sleep an hour or so
ago after we had one of our long and drawn out, world famous
talks.  Earlier, she insisted that the other ladies either
spend time with the children or that some of them go and
enjoy the outdoors here on the island.  Specifically, Pamela
was talking to Kristanna and Scarlett.  She volunteered to
stay behind and keep a guardian's eye on me here in the
bedroom in case my achy, breaky back or I needed anything.
   Piper, our 22-month-old daughter, had been with us for a
bit, but could not resist when Amy came along and asked if
she wanted to play _tumble time_ with Dani Grace downstairs
in the recreation room.  A favorite game for both toddlers,
_tumble time_ involved them building a tower with toy blocks
that got so high eventually, it fell down!  Amy led Piper off
by the hand, and it allowed Pamela and I to have our talk.
Nothing major or Earth-shattering; just discussing plans and 
what to do with her family, many of whom were flying into
Norway before Christmas so they could be there and witness 
Peyton's birth.  Pamela's due date was after the New Year.
   I debated the pros and cons of such a move, but decided to
slowly ease my way out of bed and then pad on over to the 
voyeur room.  After all, why not?  I was sick and tired of 
being confined to the bed.  Plus, Pamela was sleeping, and
not much company at the moment.  I just wanted to check in 
with the rest of the ladies in my life, as well as my kids,
and see what they were up to.  If anyone was out having fun,
perhaps I could live vicariously through them for a few 
minutes?  I was not going to hurt my back further by sitting
in a chair at the control panel in the voyeur room, right?
   I groaned, my back still sore and uncomfortable, as I held
onto the wall inside the voyeur room and glanced at the wide 
spread of surveillance monitors.  Slowly but surely, I sat 
down in the firm chair but kept an upright posture, and took 
an even longer look at the active monitors in front of me.
   On screen 16-C, it seemed as if _tumble time_ had come
and gone, as Amy now had both Piper and Dani Grace on her
lap, and was reading them a children's book.  Probably one 
with lots of big pictures and/or illustrations, no doubt?
Screen 27-B oversaw the kitchen, where Trish and Lindsay 
were busy preparing snacks for Jackson and Kaylee, both of
whom were closeby.  Screen 44-C displayed the west beach, 
where Scarlett was resting in the sand underneath a large 
umbrella with Ariel and Dylan in either arm.  Meanwhile, 
Kristanna was at the ocean's edge with Kaden, who had a 
life preserver on, and they were laughing and splashing 
water onto each other.  Sure wish I could be there...
   "Sorry about crashing in on you like this, but I cannot
seem to help myself," Devon greeted as I flipped the audio on
for screen 19-D, which surveyed the exercise room.  "I just
wanted to stop in and see how you were doing."
   "You don't have to apologize for anything," Alison said,
pressing a button on the treadmill in the exercise room which 
turned it off.  "Crashing in?"  She had been jogging, but now 
stepped off of the treadmill and took a long shot of her power 
drink.  "Can I confess that I'm happy you did?"
   "You look... awesome," Devon grinned, taking her in.  It was
hard to argue; Alison had on a very form-fitting pair of black
yoga pants and white sneakers, along with a racerback, pink
tank-top that had the words _On Mondays, WE WEAR PINK to the Gym_
etched across it.  Reminiscent of a saucy little fitness girl, 
or perhaps a head cheerleader getting one last workout in before 
the big game, I agreed with Devon.  Alison looked awesome.
   "Oh, you're being way too nice now," Alison, acting coy and
innocent, smiled at Devon.  "It's like you want to get me into
bed, or something.  God, you have to stop pursuing me so
aggressively.  Don't you know I'm getting married on Saturday?"
   "Aggressively?"  Devon was laughing.  "Is that what I was
doing?  Stalking you?"
   Alison gave her an impish, yet playful expression.  "It's
obvious how much you like me and want to make out with me."
   "Now, that part, I can agree with."
   "Hmmmmm... do you say that to all of the girls?"
   "I do," Devon nodded, giggling.  "All of them.  That's me
in a nutshell.  So many girls, so little time."  Yet the mood
began to shift, and the smile faded from Devon's lips.  "So,
you went through a lot yesterday, Ali.  You want to talk?"
   "No.  I'm fine."  Alison turned and went over to the sink
to grab a cold towel for her face.
   Devon followed behind and again made eye contact, studying
her.  "Are you?"  At this point, I decided to transfer the
live video feed from the small screen in the left corner of
the control panel to the big monitor directly in front of me.
This way, I could more easily focus on their discussion (not
to mention get a better view of Alison in her workout gear).
   Alison decided to come clean with Devon.  "Between you and
me?  I'm a little all over the place right now.  Nerves.  I'm
not used to feeling this way.  I don't quite know what to do."
   "Do you know what I do for nerves?"
   "What?"
   "I tell them to go fuck themselves."
   Alison laughed at Devon's response.  That was Devon for 
you; she was not afraid to be blunt, and speak her mind.  She
was nice and sweet, no doubt, but a straight-shooter.  "I am
not sure how the nerves would take that sort of language."
   "Doesn't matter as long as they listen, and leave."
   "While I can appreciate that you do that, Devon, I'm quite
certain that it would not work for me."
   "Well, of course you think it would not work for you, honey.
But that is because you haven't tried it yet."  Devon guided
Alison over to the large, floor-to-ceiling mirror on the far
side of the exercise room.  "I want you to look into that
mirror and, despite the fact I've never heard you curse
outside of having sex, tell your nerves to go fuck themselves."
   "I really don't like swearing.  I wasn't raised that way."
Little church girl wasn't raised to marry her sister, either...
   "Come on, it won't hurt you."
   "I really don't think..."
   "Do it!"
   Alison took a deep breath and turned toward her reflection
in the mirror.  "Go fuck yourselves!"
   Devon grinned and nodded.  "That was very impressive.  You 
even said it with authority.  And how did it make you feel?"
   "It was liberating, actually."
   Devon reached out and gently touched Alison's hand.  "You 
want to tell me what has been going on lately, honey?"
   "I feel as though I'm the one at fault for what happened 
to Jeremy yesterday."  Alison paused, but then her eyelids 
narrowed and she stared coldly at Devon.  "You're not going 
to ask and bug me about the conversation I had with him?"
   "Not at all," Devon promised, and Alison's features 
quickly softened.  "It's obviously something personal and 
very private for you and, on top of that, it's really none
of my business if you're not in the mood to share.  I'm not
like Trish or Amy, who were hounding you yesterday for 
answers, or Scarlett, who jumped on you late at night.  The
voyeur room has done our family a lot of good over the 
years, believe it or not, but sometimes having cameras 
everywhere isn't cool.  Sometimes privacy is needed."
   I wholeheartedly agreed with that.  Especially when Alison
wanted to tell me that she was attracted to her mother.
   "Is there ANYWHERE on this island where Jeremy's cameras
won't reach?  I mean, ANYWHERE?"
   "Two places that I know of," Devon responded.  "One, the
guest bedroom and anything attached to it that Louisa used 
to sleep in."  Devon paused, then rolled her head.  "Oh.  
Duh.  You probably don't know about Louisa.  She was Jeremy's 
live-in housekeeper when all of us first came to the island 
back in the middle of 2013.  Really nice, sweet old lady; 
probably 80 now.  Used to do all the cooking and cleaning,
kind of like what Amy does now.  Amy took over for her,
actually; she retired.  But, back to the point, her old
bedroom has no cameras.  It's room six in the guest corridor."
   "You said there were two places.  What's the other one?"
   "The voyeur room itself," Devon told Alison.  "I doubt
there is any other location in this house, or on this whole
island, that the voyeur room could not pick up on.  There
are hidden cameras and microphones everywhere.  Jeremy
spent millions upon millions of dollars in getting the
absolute best equipment before all of us first came to the
island.  It's all military grade stuff.  It is much more
complex and high-tech than the system he has back home."
   "And what did all of you do, or think, when you initially
found out that Jeremy was spying on you with his cameras?"
   "Different girls had different reactions."  Devon paused,
then giggled.  "Pamela was the first to find out about it.
She went bonkers on Jeremy.  Slapped him the same way that
Lindsay did yesterday."  I recalled that memory of when I
first told Pamela about the voyeur room.  She did not take
kindly to the invasion of privacy (go ahead, ask my face),
yet I was able to eventually get her to settle down, and
talk things through.  Not a pleasant memory, regardless.
Heh; that was all the way back in June 2013.
   "And what did you do when you found out about it, Devon?
Were you loud and screechy, and upset with Jeremy?"
   "I never got the chance," Devon responded.  "Krissy told
me all about it.  She sat me down one day and said, I have
something to tell you, and you may not like it.  We spoke
about it for three hours.  Krissy helped me understand that
within the context of this island and why all of us were
here, Jeremy had no ill intentions with the voyeur room.  He
may not use it properly all the time, she told me - like him
watching us have sex together - but he had his reasons."
Devon shrugged and ended, "Or something like that, at least.
I just... Krissy convinced me it was okay.  Somehow."
   Alison shrugged her shoulders.  "Kristanna has a way of
convincing anyone of anything."
   "But Trish?"  Devon smiled at the memory.  "Trish thought
it was the hottest thing ever.  She was like, THAT MAN, is
spying on us?  THAT MAN?  Keep in mind that Trish thought the
world of Jeremy, just as she does now, and he could do no
wrong.  It was really... arousing... to her, to Trish, that
Jeremy had been spying on her.  On us.  I think being watched
has always been a dark fantasy for Trish.  And the first thing
Trish asked for when the dust settled?  Trish asked Jeremy to
take her into the voyeur room so she could watch and re-live
every sexual encounter she had with Lindsay up to that point."
   Alison giggled.  "I cannot blame her for that.  Lindsay is
the type of girl that you just want to kiss her face off."
   "But Ali, honey... do not blame yourself for what happened
to Jeremy.  It isn't your fault.  His back has been messed up
for years.  Jeremy tries to act all tough about it, but down
deep, I think he is in a lot of pain, but will never admit it.
What I mean is, pain, all the time.  Not just now."
   "Do you think Jeremy will take it easy from now on, take
better care of himself?"
   "I have no doubt he will."
   "Oh?" Alison countered.  "Why?  He seems really stubborn
and bullish about it.  Kristanna said he snapped at Scarlett
last night when she came into the bedroom and asked him about
his back."  I snapped at Scarlett?  What, when I asked her
not to talk about my back anymore?  That was snapping?
   "Krissy and Scarlett are making it their mission in life 
from now on to see to it that Jeremy is more careful."  Devon
paused, then nodded her head and added, "And if only one of us 
can get through to Jeremy in his most stubborn and hard-headed 
of times, it is Krissy.  She can crack him like an egg."
   "Kind of like Jeremy does to me."  With those words, Alison
covered her mouth, and pink dusted her cheeks.
   "Hmmmmm?"  Clearly, Devon did not catch that.
   "Nothing," Alison insisted.  I could crack her like an egg?
Was Alison making reference to our occasional, yet intensive
BDSM play?  But I had to agree with Devon about Kristanna.  
She _could_ crack me like an egg.  Not in the BDSM sense, of
course - that was something she and I did not do together.
Rather, Kristanna's word - her opinion - was solid gold to me.
She had helped me too often over the years for me to ignore it.
   "What about Scarlett?" Alison wondered.  "Can she get 
through to Jeremy like Kristanna does?  Scarlett seems the 
more important one here, you know, being the nurse."
   "Doesn't matter with Scarlett," Devon told her.  "With what
happened yesterday, Scarlett has gone full-on, nurse mode.  If
Jeremy wants to defy her advice in the future, fight it, she
will not stand for it.  She is not backing down from him ever
again.  Jeremy just needs to realize, it's for his own good."
   Rumblings of stubborn anger began to form within me, and I
growled under my breath as I flipped the audio off and slowly
stood up from the control panel.  Actually, it was not anger;
it was pure stupidity on my part.  I did not take kindly to 
some of the things others were saying about me when, down 
deep, all any of them wanted to do was simply help me.
   Scarlett was not going to back down if I wanted to put up
any resistance about my health?  Kristanna went and told
Alison, and probably others, that I _snapped_ at Scarlett 
last night once we got home from the mainland?  Did I?
   Apparently, if I learned anything from the past 24 hours, 
it was that all of my wives (and my one fiancee) thought that 
I unbending if I set my mind to something.  Stubborn.  Very.
   As I gingerly made my return to the master bedroom, I 
recalled the fear that I felt yesterday in the hospital when
Scarlett described what the aftermath would be like if I 
needed back surgery in the future.  A metal halo above my
head, attached to my skull with pins.  A fitted jacket, a 
prosthetic, that sounded more like a straitjacket to me the 
longer I thought about it.  I could be that way for up to 
six months.  Did I really want pins in my skull?
   Listen to Scarlett and do what she tells you, a little
voice within me said, and you will never get to that point.
   What was really going on here was that I was angry.  I was
angry that my back was in such a tremendous amount of pain at
the moment.  I was angry - embarrassed - that a group of
medical personnel from the mainland had to come to MY island,
strap me to a gurney in front of all of my wives and Alison,
and fly me to the hospital.  I was angry, upset; wanting to
place the blame for anything that went wrong elsewhere, when
the only person who was really at fault was me.
   Man, I was stubborn.
   And stupid.
   "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," I whispered to Pamela, still out
like a light on the mattress, as I slid in close and snuggled
up beside her.  Pamela rustled, but did not wake up.  I placed 
a hand upon her baby bump and came to an immediate decision, 
and would not veer from it.  Ever again.
   I had more than my own future to think about.  My wives,
my children.  This was officially over now.  I was going to
put everything aside from this point forward and listen to
Scarlett and what she told me.  I would be all ears for
anything the doctors in Norway said to me.  I needed to be
an active and participating husband, a father, in the future.
Yet that would be difficult if I was in a wheelchair.
   Was this bed, at this moment, actually a prison sentence
as I mentioned earlier?  Scarlett told me that I had to stay
here and rest, and I could not go and enjoy the outdoors
during our family vacation in paradise until my back was
feeling much better.  Was it a prison sentence, really?  All
Scarlett was doing was trying to get me healthy enough so I
actually get to that point, and feel normal again.  She was
doing everything in her power to help me, not hurt me.
   No, the only person who would levy a prison sentence
against me in this situation was none other than, you
guessed it, yours truly.  Me, myself, I.  If I continued to 
act stubborn and stupid, and not take better care of myself, 
I would pound my own court gavel in life, and have to wear a
halo and a prosthetic jacket for six months.  My own kids 
would probably be scared to death at the mere sight of me.  
Then, perhaps I would need a wheelchair later in life.
   Yes, it was time to be smart, and listen to Scarlett and 
anyone else who wanted nothing more than to help me.

                            * * *
                            
   I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew was
that there were a pair of soft, delicious lips touching mine,
and I was lulled from a peaceful slumber.  At first I thought
it was Pamela who was kissing me since we had been napping 
together here in the afternoon, but soon realized it wasn't.
   "Hey, there," Alison whispered, smiling.  Still in her 
workout attire, Alison gently glided over top of me and 
placed another soft, sensuous kiss upon my mouth.  The warmth 
of Alison's body, the softness of her skin and the sweet,
tangy taste of her lips made my insides glow with affection.
   "Hey, yourself."  I glanced about and realized that Pamela
was still in bed with me, and still sleeping.  Oh, pregnancy 
had been rough on Pamela the past week or so, and I felt so 
incredibly sorry for her.  I grasped Pamela's left hand with 
my right and gently squeezed as I then re-focused on Alison.
   "Have you been sleeping long?"
   Alison's own hand was moving in tempting circles along my
chest and I had a difficult time concentrating on anything 
other than the growing ache between my legs.  "No, not long."
Apparently, only about 20 minutes or so, it seemed.
   Her hair was tousled and her eyes were as blue as the sky, and
Alison was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women I had ever
seen.  Her hand stopped moving and I was immediately disappointed.
   "I'm hungry," Alison murmured, shuffling about and settling
into a seated position directly beside me, on the side opposite
of Pamela.  My eyes widened and I sucked in a harsh breath as
she reached behind her and produced a long, wooden paddle with
a handle, tailor made for spanking.  One of Amy's BDSM paddles.
   Surely, Alison did not come here looking to play, did she?
This was the same girl who was all crying and upset, blaming
herself, that I had to go to the hospital.  Even if I wanted
to (and trust me, I did), I was not going to spank her today.
   "Alison, what are you doing?"  I motioned to the paddle as
Pamela again rustled about beside me, but continued sleeping.
"You know I am in no shape for..."
   "BUT DADDY!" she whined, and those words - and the tone in
which they were used - hit me like a ton of bricks.  WHOA.
Was this fun and simple role-play to Alison, or something much
more serious?  "Don't you remember yesterday?  We had a deal,
didn't we?"  The 20-year-old giggled and rolled her head about
as I glared up at her, dumbfounded.  "Remember when you let me
orgasm just before you hurt your back?  We had a deal.  You
were only allowing me to orgasm on the condition that I come
and suck your cock off every morning for the rest of the week."
She picked up the paddle and giggled.  "Else, I'd get this."
   "Honey, my back..."
   Alison was pouting.  Profusely.  "I came here earlier this
morning, per our deal, but Kristanna and Scarlett were giving
you a bath.  Why do they get to have all the FUN?"  Alison
even threw a little temper tantrum, which was creepy, though
she took enough care not to wake Pamela.  "I was going to suck
your cock then."  She trailed a single finger up and down my
chest this time, adding, "I'll just suck it now, Daddy."
   "Sweetheart, wait.  We can't.  What if..."
   "Oh, hush up about your back," Alison giggled, flicking a
wrist at me, already peeling my sweat pants down my pelvis.
All bets were off - and any logic was thrown out the window -
when I felt her long, slender fingers wrap themselves around
my cock, and begin stroking.  "Your back is going to be fine.
You just lay there, Daddy, and let ME do ALL OF THE WORK!
Not going to put any pressure on your back whatsoever."
   Was this the same girl who just spoke to Devon a short
time ago about the anxiety, the guilt, she felt over me?
Alison was crying last night, she felt so guilty.  Yet now,
that same girl was literally forcing herself upon me?
   I was already getting hard for her, and Alison spread
herself out some upon the mattress to get into a better
position.  She sat down on her knees and hunched completely
over, near my cock, but then removed her hand and laced all
of her fingers together behind her back.  She seemed proud
of her pert, tiny breasts jutting outward through the
athletic, pink tank-top that she wore.
   "Look, Daddy," the little blonde swooned.  "No hands!"
   Alison leaned in closer and I groaned out in pleasure as
her tongue stroked up and down, then over the top of my cock.
A drop of gooey pre-cum leaked out of the tip and she licked
it, and promptly sucked it dry.
   Alison then giggled, and motioned toward Pamela - who was
still fast asleep - beside me.  Pamela was a very deep sleeper,
especially when pregnant.  Alison crinkled her nose at me and
said, "I'll try not to wake Mommy as I suck your cock, Daddy."

   Whoa.  WHOA!

   Did Alison just call Pamela... Mommy?  Pamela was the holy
grail to me, and needed no place in these sordid games.  What
the...?  Alison had gone too far now.  Way too far.
   I tried to sit up and complain, ask Alison what in the
hell she was referring to or getting at, but there was a
slight twinge in my back, and it literally kept me glued to
the mattress.  Nothing major or threatening, trust me; but
enough of a twinge to remind me that I did not need to be
making any sudden, sharp movements at the moment.
   I attempted to speak, to voice my displeasure at her choice
of words, but the swirling sensations of unyielding passion 
and desire were too much to overcome.
   Alison had found a rhythm by now, bobbing her head up and
down, licking my cock like it was a lollipop, darting her
tongue around its veins, sucking the head, and then taking
me further into her mouth.  Alison flexed her lips around
her teeth to take me deeper.  It seemed as if she could use
her hands to help balance herself, to provide an anchor, but
kept them behind her as if they were bound there.
   Soon my breathing became more ragged and I thrust my hips 
up at her mouth, ordering, "Take me deeper."
   "Easy, Daddy," she murmured.  "Your back."  Still, Alison
did as she was instructed; she opened wide and leaned all the
way forward, and took me into her throat.  When Alison gagged,
I shot a worried glance over at Pamela, thinking that the 
loud, gurgling sound may wake her.  But it didn't.
   Still, what a scene.  This little nymphomaniac was choking
on my cock, seemingly wanting to jam it clear down to her
stomach, as my pregnant wife innocently slept right next to
us.  On top of that, Pamela was not feeling all that well.
   I again thrusted upward, into Alison's wide, straining
mouth, trying to travel even deeper.  Alison pushed me back
down to the mattress, gently, before taking a quick breather.
Then, she forced my cock into the far reaches of her throat
for a couple of seconds before pulling out, again getting a
few gasps of air.  Oh my God; this girl was something else!
   I reached out with my free hand and yanked on Alison's
long, free-flowing blonde hair, using it to control her mouth, 
as she started bobbing up and down again.  It was at this
point when I realized that she had her hair up in pig-tails,
and I was latching onto one of them.  If anything, what else
would best go with the Daddy and little girl theme?
   Alison's lips were so far stretched now, and thick tears of
concentration streamed from her eyes as she did her absolute
best to provide me maximum pleasure.
   "God help me, honey... FUCK!"
   Alison sealed her lips around my shaft as my body pulsed
and contracted, and I shot a hot load of semen directly into
the back of her throat.
   Alison gulped and swallowed, trying to keep up with my
ejaculations.  I pulled out of her mouth while I was still
cumming, and it made a slight, popping sound as it released.
Sperm splashed onto her face, over her lips, and into her
hair.  Alison quickly engulfed my cock again, trying to keep
up, and continued milking it until there was nothing left.
   I leaned back into the soft mattress in the aftermath
with a deep sigh, and Alison knew that I was enjoying the
relaxation that always followed a good orgasm.  Alison stayed
on her knees and furiously wiped the tears from her eyes
that came from giving a blowjob so intense and satisfying.
   After a moment, though, Alison was all bright and giggly
again.  "Thank you, Daddy!" she swooned, and suddenly I felt
a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.  What exactly had I
signed up for in agreeing to play these roles with her?
   Alison laid down and stretched out over top of me, shifting
about so her firm, sweet ass was across my upper thighs.
Almost as if she was preparing for a spanking, right?  Then
Alison giggled once more and, with her eyes fixated on mine, the
little tart moved her enchanting face to Pamela's and kissed her
flush on the lips.  Again, Pamela stirred, but did not wake up.
   My insides began churning, though, when Alison pulled away
and, still staring at me with that vivacious smile, I noticed
that Pamela had a thick coating of my sperm on her lips, and
little dabs of it across her face.  Alison had just deposited
it there with the kiss, which was clearly her intention.
   Alison bounced off of the bed and gathered the paddle.  "I 
don't know what you're gonna do, Daddy, if Mommy wakes up and
finds your cum all over her face."  I again stared up at Alison
as she giggled, motioning toward Pamela.  Mommy?  Seriously?
"Just don't tell her it was me who did it; I may get GROUNDED!"
   Slack-jawed, I watched as Alison skipped out of the bedroom.
   
   Then, reality set in.
   
   My back.  Talk of incest, albeit play incest (or was it?).
I was supposed to stay in bed all day long, only getting up a
minimal amount of times, yet I had somehow allowed Alison to 
seduce me with that beguiling mouth of hers.  The stimulation, 
the ecstasy, had been too much for me to turn her away.  Yet, 
what if I injured my back even further during that encounter?  
One could easily say that all I did was lay there and enjoy 
it, but keep in mind that I thrusted my hips a few times, too.
   "OH MY GOD!" I exclaimed, though in a whisper, as I did not
want to rouse Pamela.  The possible ramifications began to set
in as the lusty fog cleared.  "SCARLETT IS GOING TO KILL ME!"
   As for Pamela, I glanced over and noticed that even in her 
sleep, she was licking her own lips with her tongue, sensing 
the taste of sperm on them.  Pamela even swiped at her face 
with a pair of fingers and then inserted them into her mouth,
sucking them dry, before offering a content smile and going 
right back into a deep, satisfying slumber...


                <<<- End of Chapter 08 ->>>


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"Island Fever 6: Sanctuary"

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- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

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