Kal, Male, 37

	- Narrator, disaster survivor and castaway

	- 6'1, 190lbs, straight, shoulder-length dark-brown hair

Bailey, Female, 13-14

	- Disaster survivor and castaway

	- 5'4, 125lbs, golden-brown tanned skin, shoulder-length light yellow-brown sun-streaked hair

It isn't a stretch to describe our moods in the days that followed as 'vibrant' and 'excited.' We'd narrowly escaped from that harrowing, horrible situation, the hawk-bugs nearly destroyed us all. Through a fluke and dumb luck, we'd managed to outlast, barely, the threat, and the orgy of pleasure, relief, and sincere love that followed on the evening of July 6 was one of the most incredible moments of my life. Of all our lives, I can be certain. None of us expected to survive, but we did.

And we made the most of it. The following morning, we set upon all the tasks at hand as Karana came bounding up from the West. We had no clue where'd she'd gone the night before, but she looked none the worse for wear and happily lapped Mie's cheek when she shambled into camp. We all shrugged and got on with our day.

There was still a massive amount of work to be done. Our days trapped in the cave had left us unable to tend to our crops and our firewood. Though we were all sore and tired, both from the days of inactivity and from the sensual pleasures of our coming together, we united, determined to the last, to see our camp return to normal. No, we aimed higher. The vitality of our survival instincts had been heightened, driven to build better and stronger what we had, until the hawk-bugs, largely taken for granted.

So, the weeks following the hawk-bugs brought renewed efforts to improve our situation. We used rubbery fronds to better waterproof our housing, built three new structures, one for storage, one a 'hospital,' and the other to serve as communal room for when the weather wasn't allowing us to join together outside. I chuckled to myself when Tok proposed the idea, and though he had sold it to us as a place to 'get out of the rain,' I knew we'd soon be adding plenty of bedding and comforts for enjoying our communal sexuality there before long.

We'd lost some of the crops during the hawk-bug invasion. Whether from the bugs or from the birds that followed, we were never sure, but we worked in days-long shifts, under Gale's guidance, to reform and improve our fields and to harvest what was ripe. What had survived had thrived and we had an abundance of all sorts of tasty treats, including beans and peppers, onions and potatoes, and our marijuana crop was approaching the point where the buds were heavy and just starting to glisten as crystals formed.

We also worked toward the second phase of irrigating the North-side gardens, bringing the lake's waters closer to the fields and integrated them more tightly. It made watering much easier, with a system of small wood-and-rock gates, we could regulate how much water went into each field, and even into each row. Gale had learned a lot about the range of water requirements for the crops, and with the expertise of Hona and Manu, they formulated a schedule for watering that we hoped would improve our yields, assuming, of course, that rain didn't preclude the necessity. Since it was raining almost every other day at that point, there wasn't much tending needed.

Tok cleared out one area of our storage building where he prepared four different batches of island wine, our supplies of the 'first-world' bottles down to only a couple, with just three bottles of rum remaining of the liquor. He incorporated some of Gale's vanilla beans into one batch, the purple nuts into another, the banana-fruits and berries into a third. Some of the tubers went into a batch that I assumed would yield a rough vodka-like drink.

We'd discovered a second type of wild onion growing on the island, one with shorter stalks but bigger bulbs. They were sweet, the bulbs at least, reminding me of a Vidalia, without the sharpness. They made a wonderful inclusion in our stews, roasts, and most everything we cooked over the fire.

We improved our diverted water supply, cleaned it as best we could of bug carcasses and other debris, and repaired a couple of sections of the rock walls that had collapsed during one of the heavier rain squalls.

Poln's acorns had saved our lives, and I was determined to find a way to make them palatable. They were almost everywhere, scattered along the forest floor, crunching under feet. The bitter, slightly-oily nut wasn't very tasty eaten raw, but with Hakee's help, I found a way to roast and then mash them, along with a bit of the sweet onions, to form a nut butter of sorts. It took a few batches, and just enough salt water, to find a balance that tasted pretty good. Poln wasn't terribly impressed, still preferring his raw, but the rest of us enjoyed it. It seemed to keep for several weeks, so we started preparing and storing big batches of it, adding in a few pinches of spices for variety.

I passed a year of being on the island over those weeks. The anniversary went by without notice, and only a few days after it occurred did I even notice. It felt like no time at all and a lifetime, all at once. I couldn't much remember back before that year, not in any way that felt real. So much had happened, so much had changed, so many people had come and gone that the demarkation felt almost clean, like a surgeon's incision. What I had before was just a faded photograph compared to the colors and emotions of my life on the island. I reflected only a few moments on the event, and let it, too, slip into the past.

Bailey's fourteenth came during those weeks, as well. We celebrated with a small party in our new common house while a tremendous thunderstorm rocked the island. It wasn't much, but we all enjoyed a light evening and spent time cuddling and softly touching each other, though we were all much too tired that day to do much more.

Bailey's pregnancy continued to fly toward the day she would give birth to our child. Her belly grew slowly at first, but by the end of September, it was prominent and made a lovely round protrusion from her lithe body. She was so beautiful pregnant. Bailey was beautiful in any state, but she seemed to grow into her pregnancy in a way that made her graceful. Her body matured, still early in her puberty, her hips rounding, her breasts beginning to swell, her features slowly turning from young girl to young woman, and all the time, her belly swelled with our child.

We made love often. I found that having her ride me was my favorite. We regularly slipped away into one of the huts and spent private time together. I still made love with the others, and often, as well, but Bailey had been my first in my new life on the island, and it was her touch that I longed for most, especially as she began to grow so big.

One afternoon in early October, we'd just finished lunch and lounged in the lingering heat of the day. Tok, Gale, and the others were in the North, working the gardens, leaving me and Bailey to handle the camp chores together, alone.

Bailey was on her back, staring up into the darkening skies as a stiff breeze caught her hair and whipped it around her head. Spray from the surf just a few feet away spritzed us and she giggled as we both felt the tickling-itch it caused as the briny water dried quickly on our skin.

“What should we name her?”

We'd had that conversation a few times before, even kicked around a few names for a girl, a few for a boy, but nothing had stuck fast for either. This, though, was the first time she'd used a gender-specific term when asking the question. “Her?”

“I dunno, just feels like a 'her' I guess. I keep thinking of it as a girl.”

I sat a moment staring off into the whipping whitecaps as the wind continued to gain strength. “Her. I'd like that. Either, really. I just want her to be healthy. And happy.”

“Yeah...” Bailey rolled toward me, careful not to lay directly on her stomach, looking a bit lost. “Healthy. I'm kinda scared... about that...”

“Don't think too much on it, Kitten. You know Manu has done this dozens of times with less to work with. You're in good hands. Our daughter will be in good hands.”

Bailey smiled when I used the word 'daughter.' “Yeah... I know. Kal... this is going to change things, isn't it? Like... everything.”

I thought a moment. “Not everything, no. Not everything. Some things, sure. We'll have a child to care for, someone who can't do it by themselves. But we'll have lots of help here. Lots of help and lots of support. A kid could pick a worse time and place to be born. But we won't change... well, if we do, it will be for the better.” I settled back and stroked her bulging stomach. “I love you, Bailey. That's never going to change.”

She gave me a half-serious frown, “even when I'm huge and fat and my cunny isn't tight?”

“Always. Bailey, my love for you has never been about what you looked like, I thought you knew that.”

“Oh, I know, I know... I just... worry, sometimes. I mean... Hakee's so beautiful... Amy... Keekah... I'll just keep getting fatter and they stay so pretty.”

This again. We'd had bits of the insecurity and jealousy pop up before and talked our way through it. I empathized. Really, I did. Bailey had some insecurities which rose up as her pregnancy went forward, and I suppose a lot of that was instinctive. Her biology drove her to be sure that I'd be there to give support to her and our offspring, and she needed reassurance that I'd not let her become less important to me when other options were available.

“Hakee is beautiful, and Amy, and Keekah. Yes, that's true. Yet, none of them is you.” I let my hand stroll over her stomach and up to her growing breasts. “Besides, I'm being honest when I say that you are more beautiful now than you've ever been.” Her look showed doubt. “Seriously, Kitten. Look what you do to me.” I rolled back slightly, my penis rigid and pointing up toward her belly. “Bailey, you turn me on all the time, and that's just one of a million reasons I want you in my life. Big, small, fat, skinny, pregnant or not, your happiness is so damn important to me that I cannot imagine my life being worth living without that.”

She smiled then, and I kissed her. Bailey whispered, “I know, Kal. I know. I just always love hearing you say that.” Her hand found my cock and started to stroke it slowly. “I want to go for a ride.”

I smiled back, fondling her lovely young tits, slipped a hand down over her bulge and between her legs, found her wet and slick already. “I can tell,” said with a grin. “Let me warm things up first.”

Bailey rolled back and I kissed her for a long time, the lightest drizzle starting over our bodies as the rain line gradually moved onshore. I nuzzled her neck and cheeks, whispered sweet thoughts into her ears, nibbled her earlobes. My cock throbbed against the side of her belly.

I moved down and sucked in her tits. I loved the way her nipples had swollen. Just a bit, just a small spread from where they started. I sucked in each in turn and let her flesh jiggle in my mouth, tasting the brine and warmth as her breathing began to quicken. My fingers played between her legs, twirling around her hairy Mons and hard clit before slipping down to where her labia were parted and slick with her excitement.

She spread her legs further as I settled my head between her fourteen-year old thighs. I loved the way Bailey's pussy looked. The dark, curly pubes had filled out fully over the months, creating a tight, lovely patch of fur above her genitals. Her clit had grown a bit, a solid nub which rose out of the pale flesh just below. Her pinkish-red labia were swollen, excited, wet with sweat and her juices. Bailey watched me as I sank down, and then she let her head roll back and enjoyed my tongue.

I lapped at her salty flesh, tasting her pussy, moaning as I tasted salt and tart and a creamy mix of honey and jasmine and sage. Bailey's genitals, like all genitals, tasted unique. I could have picked out her flavors in a line up of a dozen women. Amy's flavors were different, and Keekah's different still. Each was its own profile, its special blend of sweet and salty and sour and creamy. I loved them all, but in that moment, it was Bailey's flavors which drew me in and slid down my throat.

I noted, not for the first time, how her pussy had become more rich since her pregnancy. Perhaps I'd imagined it, but there was a stronger, more robust depth to her flavors. She smelled stronger, too, her pheromones heavy and had become more womanly and less like a young girl. I loved her, no matter what, but in that moment I let all the smells and tastes of my fourteen-year old lover wash over me and it drove my tongue deep into her body to bring forth more.

Bailey writhed, her belly tight and rocking side to side as she moaned sweetly into the drizzle. I let my tongue move down to her anus where I probed her tight ass before circling her clit. She bucked and took my head in her hands, held me tightly against her pregnant pussy as she ground against me. I lapped at her clit, felt her body stiffen and jerk. Her hips flared and closed, flared and closed again, her back arched, and she exploded in orgasm.

As fast as possible I lapped her clit and her pussy in long strokes, driving her more strongly into her climax. Her cream slid out of her vagina and coated my tongue, making my cock throb and ache to be inside my young wife.

Bailey relaxed, panting heavily as the rain grew stronger. What I didn't lap up with my tongue was quickly washed away by the downpour. We both ignored it, lost in ecstasy and lust.

She lifted her head, mouth open, water running over her face, then rose slowly, first on her side, then sitting. I laid back on the blanket, my penis throbbing in the rain. Bailey stroked me once, twice, three times, then rose up and settled her body over mine, pressing the tip of my cock against her swollen labia.

Bailey sat down, her belly mostly hiding her genitals from my view as she leaned forward and took me inside her pussy. She was hot and soaking wet, slick from my saliva and her own excitement. I groaned, “oh, Bailey... yes... fuck me... god, yes...” I ran my hands over her belly as she began to rise and fall over me. She fucked me steadily, slowly, gently, letting her labia trail up over my shaft as she rose before pushing back down and taking me inside her fully.

Precum drooled from my cock as the fourteen-year old rode me. One hand on a breast, the other stroking her stomach, I felt myself swelling inside the girl. Her mouth was open slightly, her eyes watching me, rain running down her face and tits and belly, rain splashing me and cooling my skin while she heated my dick inside her body.

Up and down she rode, fucking me with confidence, with need, with a love that I can only begin to describe. Bailey's hands slid over my wet chest, stroking my hairs, sliding up to my cheeks. I let my hands move to her hips as she began to slow, her legs becoming tired. I used my arms to lift her, humping up into her wonderful, slick hole, felt myself straining.

“Oh... Bailey...”

“Do it, Kal... Fill me... fill me...”

I groaned, thrust hard a couple of times, felt my cock tingling from the base up through the head, my shaft burning as sperm raced up and shot out into her vagina. “Uhn... Uhnnnn... UHNNNNN... OOOHH... OOOHH...” I filled Bailey's pregnant cunt with my semen, felt her tense as it splashed inside her body. I erupted as I grunted, cumming against her cervix, cumming into Bailey's channel, beyond which our baby was growing inside her. I squeezed every drop of cum inside me into her body, felt her cunt tighten and milk me for every thing I had.

Bailey sat back as I finished emptying myself into her vagina, slowly rolling her hips around as my penis began to slowly soften. She jerked, her hips grinding, her hand slid under her bulging stomach and found her clit. My hands slid over her belly and her tits, stroking them, feeding her fire as she quickly came on my cock.

She slid off me and onto her back, legs spread wide, her hairy, pregnant pussy open to the world as the rain pounded down. I leaned over her, kissed her deeply, let my fingers run freely over her wet flesh. Lightning struck out over the water and thunder crashed menacingly moments later. We both laughed and quickly gathered up our soaking blankets and hurried into the cabin to wait out the storm.

I sat back on the bed with Bailey between my legs, my arms around her breasts and belly, softly rocking together as the storm moved in and thunder rippled around our shelter. The smile on my face couldn't be wiped away. It felt so good to hold her then, just as it always did. I knew she'd make a great mother, just like she'd made a great wife. I knew we'd make great parents and our friends, our fellow islanders, would be there to support us no matter what we'd faced.

Bailey seemed to read my thoughts, said with a light laugh, “so you never answered the question. What should we name her?”

“Patience.”

“Really?”

It was my turn to laugh. “No, no. No, anything but that. No, I meant, let's have patience. We have weeks to go before we need a name, and... I kinda feel like, when our child is born, we'll know what to name her then. Right now... I don't know. Right now, I just want to hold you and wait out this storm and then keep building our lives tighter and tighter around each other, around our family and our future.”

She leaned her head back and kissed my shoulder, said with a smile, “ok.” She laughed again. “'I was going to have to veto 'Patience.' That's a horrible name.”

“Agreed. Let's name her Chastity.”

We shared a long and vibrant laugh over that one.