Fantasy Island Ch. 1

Nis 28, 2024 // By:analsex // No Comment

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I had awaken in a series of small steps. First, there was a vague feeling of pain- not piercing, but certainly not pleasant, either, radiating from my side and my calf. Needles and pins in my left arm, for I had been sleeping with it underneath me. Small steps. A soothing roaring of water all around me- approaching, then receding, then repeating in a hypnotic rhythm. The horizon tilting in fits and jerks. The cries of seagulls. Salty mist. Small steps.

Curious, I popped my head up. My small life boat, or, what was left of it, had run aground on a tropical beach. The waves were spanking aft, making the pitiful remains of it yaw with every slap. The water foamed and churned as it washed over the rocks and sand around me, roaring as it had for millennia. The beach was pristine, excepting the odd bit of flotsam, like children’s toys across a carpet of white sand. About twenty yards away lay a lush growth of ferns, brush, flowers, then trees reaching high up into the morning air. The sky was a canvas of pastel colors- vibrant pinks and piercing violets, as the sun crested the horizon behind the thick clouds far away. The same clouds, maybe that had produced the tempest that had sunk my sailboat? I wasn’t sure.

I looked at myself to see if I had been injured during my ordeal in the night- aside from some bumps and bruises, and the stiffness in my side from sleeping against the hard wood, I was fine. My clothes were little more than a faint memory- they had been ripped from my body by the ululating winds that ripped my sail clean off, stranding me even then as if the wave that I had the foresight to see, a 30 footer at least, came at my sailboat (a wedding present from Father) giving me the precious seconds to drop my lifeboat into the water before the wave overturned my sailboat and sunk it faster than my marriage. How I survived in my tiny life raft- not even 8 feet long- was astounding.

Curious to explore my new home, I stepped out into the luxuriously warm water, feeling the sand pull from between my toes by the tide. Something caught my eye, and I bent down to pick up a periwinkle. Holding the shell in my palm, I admired the soft colors spiraling around it, as the breeze caressed my hair like an experienced lover. Here I was, stranded, with no idea how I would survive, but it was so liberating. I had grown up spoiled absolutely rotten with lavish gifts and opportunities most women only dream of. Horses to ride on, dance instructors to teach me waltzes, I had an art studio once my teachers thought me good enough to do it for a living, parties that included moneyed families of Newport, fancy cars, designer original dresses, closets and closets of the latest in fashion. But there was also the pressure. “You must be a perfect lady, as befitting one of such a proper family,” Mother would often remind me. Everyone controlling every aspect of your life. A staff of 8 servants growing up to run the house, and 3 of my own once I was married. My parents had even ‘arranged’ who I was going to marry. There were times I felt so trapped- and I craved freedom.

When I went to private school, I would envy the so-called “normal kids”, who drove around in common autos, having real friends, going to greasy spoons on a date. Hanging out in the mall, flirting with members of the opposite sex quite blatantly at times. They seemed so free. When I got married, I had stars in my eyes. My marriage to Roland was perfect, like something from a fairy tale- an original wedding gown, ice sculptures, hundreds of wedding guests, wonderful gifts, an elegant home on Martha’s Vineyard. Unfortunately, we had had no children, for I was sterile as an operating theatre. Soon after the magic of our wedding day faded, I was studying how the other side lived, and I began to despair. They had barely enough money to get by, but they had love. They had passion. Passion for each other, and passion for life. Poor little rich girl, I thought, but the problem with cliche’s is that they are so often true.

When I had discovered Roland had been having affairs with several of his staff, I lost it. He assured me it would never happen again, and part of me wanted to believe him, but I still watched him closely. I wanted to tell myself that I loved him, and that he would never do anything to harm me. Of course, I found out he had no intention of being forthright and honest. He was becoming a cruel man- secretive, paranoid, almost criminal. Apparently, the law firm he was partners in saw the same things. He was cast out quietly when they discovered he was embezzling. I tried to be supportive, as a good wife should be, but he began drinking and yelling at me, telling me it was my fault… he HAD to steal to support us and my lifestyle. “Poppycock,” I replied. “I make quite a living selling my paintings- enough to support myself, and I do.” Roland looked at me angrily and actually grabbed me. He called me all sorts of vile things, and when he drove me into a corner and slapped me, I knew it was over. I filed urfa escort for divorce within the day.

I moved out despite his protests that he’d never raise his hand to me again, but I wasn’t having any of it. I purchased a home, for myself, no staff. Mother and Father urged me to reconsider, but I was enjoying my new life. It was harder, but I was becoming rebellious. I had freedom.

To celebrate the success one of my showings had just achieved, I decided to take my sailboat, a 45 foot Beneteau I had christened “Pinxit” (that’s Latin for “I painted it”) for the Bahamas, nowhere in particular, I just wanted to go. That seemed like a lifetime ago, that showing. And, in a way, it was. I was beginning a new life.

The island was a few miles long, I discovered, shaped like a horseshoe. At the apex of the horseshoe was a great cliff that reached upwards as if straining to touch the sky. Seeing that the island was small, at least I had no worries of predators, so I knew I would be safe here. I decided to call my new home my ‘good luck charm’. I had no idea what I would do until rescue arrived. I had no survival skills, other than what the sailing course had taught me, but that was rudimentary at best. I hadn’t even had time to send out a distress call- I was too busy trying to survive the storm, and between trying to guide my boat safely through and peering through my binoculars to try to find the smaller waves I could cut through, I had no time. Besides, I knew that I wouldn’t perish- I knew I would find a way. And so I did.

I was thirsty. There were several palm fronds laying on the ground, with puddles of sweet rainwater on them. I reached down and picked one up from the edges so as not to spill any of the precious fluid and drank, feeling the cool water moisten my lips as it touched them. Knowing I would need a container to save my water in, I began looking around for something suitable. I found a pineapple tree and looked for some that had fallen. I was in luck! I broke the top off with a rock and hungrily scooped out the fruit with my fingers, dripping juice all over my pert breasts as I feasted. I had succeeded in removing nearly all of it so that I could use the husk as a canteen. I spent the next hour or so looking for more puddles of rainwater on the fallen fronds to gather up, when I heard a sound. I wasn’t sure what it was at first, but I was curious. It sounded alien, but there was desperation and warning about it. I ran through the primeval jungle towards the sound.

Breaking out into the open, I searched the waters for what had created the sound. I saw them. A rubber Zodiac, overladen with the bodies of 15 men, trying to guide it ashore with paddles, trying to avoid the rocks and shoals offshore. I ran down to the beach, forgetting my nakedness, to beckon them in. When they first saw me, I could see even from that distance their white smiles. With eagerness, they steered their craft safely onto the beach. The men scrabbled onto the sand, running up to greet me. I looked down, and saw that I was naked, as if noticing it for the first time. A proper part of myself wanted to cover myself in modesty, but then the logical part of me said, ‘why bother?’ I have no clothes to cover up with anyways. I stood, proudly, as they ran up to me. They were all fine specimens of man. All of them were fit, and between 25-40 years of age, and in keen shape. Some of their clothes, too, had been taken by the wind, for only 4 of them had any adornment- a tatter of a life jacket, the scraps of a shirt, and two with extremely tight swim trunks, but I could see their apparent pleasure of me even from 20 feet.

They all stopped, a few paces from me and began talking wildly amongst themselves in a strange tongue. There were broad smiles as some of them openly ogled me, some looked around in amazement, but one man looked directly into my eyes. His blue eyes were piercing, penetrating me as if laying my whole life bare for him to study. He looked like a man who knew what he wanted, but there was something about his eyes that seemed a little sad. He had crinkles at the corners of his eyes that showed he was a man of mirth, who could make anyone feel happy, but it still had that hint of sadness. I knew in that moment that this man had either had a hard life, or had suffered a loss. But he was strong, for he kept smiling. I stood there, like a deer in the headlights as he gazed into my eyes. I wanted to look away shyly, but I couldn’t. I wanted his eyes to devour me.

After long moments of this silent exchange, his face lit up in a beautiful smile, his teeth purest white, like the virgin snow. He said something I could not understand, and though his language was foreign, his voice was strong, yet gentle, and the most wonderful voice I have ever heard. I had always thought Sean Connery had a wonderful voice, but his voice sounded more like Sean Connery than Sean himself. I melted, even though I had not one whit of balıkesir escort what he was saying.

He finally pointed to himself, and repeated “Lars”. I took a step towards him and placed my hands on his broad chest. His nipples stood out like raisins, blending into his tanned skin. His chest hair was just right- not too much, not too little. It was soft as baby down, the droplets of spray clinging to them like decorations on a Christmas tree. I traced my fingers along his body- touching him to assure myself he was really there. The other men were elbowing themselves at first and grinning from ear to ear as Lars placed his arms around me and held me close. I felt his bare manhood against my tummy, and felt it grow. I went weak in the knees as he placed a finger underneath my chin and lifted my face, then pressed his full lips against my own. He was so incredibly gentle, kissing me in the softest of kisses, like the wings of a butterfly, or the rustle of silk against my skin. I felt his cock grow hot, and I reached down to touch it. It felt so fervent, so right, I just held it as he kissed me. I could feel myself becoming unbelievably aroused. I knew what I wanted to do.

As I had said before, I have been a woman of society- well mannered, correct, almost puritan in some ways. But what I was feeling now was indescribable. Here was the opportunity to live out nearly every woman’s fantasy. To have several men to pleasure and be pleasured by, yet have one man who I would devote myself to, to love and be truly loved in return. I knelt down, kissing his torso as I slid downwards.

The first time I had seen a man’s penis, I was 17. I was repulsed. A man wanted to put that hideous thing inside of me? Ah, the innocence of youth. As I grew more wise (but not nearly enough) in the ways of passion, these initial reactions to our bodies passed, to be replaced with a fascination. That was what I was feeling now. I kneeled, eye level with his member, and it was simply the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I gently held it in my palm, my fingers nearly encircling it, not not quite. It’s length was pleasing, and as I rubbed the head across my cheek, I marvelled at the velvety texture. It was breathtaking. I looked up into his face, and he smiled as his fingers caressed my golden tresses. I saw love in his eyes. Pure love, like they write poems about. I let his cock draw across my lips, kissing him tenderly, then I parted my lips and took him in. It was so warm, hard, and pleasurable. I wanted him to be pleased so badly. I gently sucked him like a baby sucking a pacifier, listening to his moans of pleasure as my head bobbed up and down slowly. My hands ran along the back of his legs as he ran his fingers across my face, dancing on my skin. I was feeling, if you’ll pardon the expression, cocky. I knew that every sensation he was experiencing was because of me. I knew he would do anything to have me continue. Quite the ego-boost, really!

The other men were standing closer, and one began to run his hand along my shoulder. I was dripping wet now- I wanted to plunge my fingers downwards and please myself, but I wanted to hold off because I was feeling so immensely sexual I didn’t want it to end. I held onto Lar’s hips as he softly sighed under my administrations. His hands were gliding all about me, as if he didn’t know what to do with them, but he knew he had to touch me. I was happy in the knowledge of his sweet confusion, and I kissed and licked and sucked him to show my appreciation. I looked up a few times to see his face, and the smile he wore was like that of an angel. For me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other men pleasing themselves with slow strokes. This made me gush with passion. Here I was, doing something I had always believed a couple should do behind closed doors, and I was turning these other men on as well from doing it in plain sight. I felt my moistness increasing, a trickle ran down my inner thigh, I was so hot. More hands boldly touched me- some on my breasts, some on my back, others sliding along my legs. Do you know how intoxicating that was? Complete strangers, becoming aroused into a frenzy, touching me all over as I performed one of the most intimate acts of either passion or love? I closed my eyes and surrended myself to wonton pleasure.

I could feel Lars reaching his climax. I was fully aware of every nuance of his being. His stance was becoming unsteady, his breathing quicker, his veins pulsating in my mouth. I sucked slower, to make the moment last. He was going insane with anticipation when I held him in my mouth and just felt him there… at the edge of the crevasse of orgasm, teetering over the abyss. I looked up again at him, his head tilted back, his strong but tender hands appreciating me. I sucked him slowly once more, and he spasmed in pleasure as my cheeks bulged outwards from the large load of white hot love lava that erupted from deep inside of him. trabzon escort I gulped it down and held him in my mouth, sucking him clean. When I looked into his eyes, there was a burst of love between us, making my heart pound in fury. But I still had lots to do.

Another man, who was running his fingers along my arms, stood in front of me. He was smiling from ear to ear, and soon I saw why. He had to have had the largest penis I had ever seen! It was a little longer than what I have read to be the average size, but it was so thick- it was thicker than my wrist! I quickly began licking it all over, getting it nice and lubricated so I could get it in my mouth. I got the tip into my mouth, and I could feel my lips stretching around it as he moaned, saying things under his breath in passion. I moved to make myself more comfortable, and I found that Lars had gathered some fronds for me to lay back upon. I lay back on my little blanket he had been so thoughtful and sweet to improvise for me, and winked at him. I saw him smile broadly as I continued. Now, since I was laying back, I had spread my legs and felt several hands exploring me like a cherished prize. At first, I had propped myself up on my elbows as I lay back, with this man straddling my chest, but soon, I just lay back completely, with Lars holding my head in his hands, his fingers brushing my hair back.

I felt several fingers slide across my cunny lips, sopping wet from my excitement. One man began to move closer (I could see through my breasts down along my body) and I wanted to gasp as his mouth made contact with my throbbing sex, but the thick cock in my mouth stifled it into a moan. He was unskilled, but eager to learn. He was gentle going down on me, but he lacked direction. I slid my arms along my tunny to hold his face and guide him. He learned quickly. I came in no time, my body wracked with spasms and twitches, but he kept going. Soon, the man I was sucking was shaking and shuddering as well, and I was rewarded with another mouthful as Lars kept caressing my face.

Another man moved up beside my face, and I immediately began sucking him when still another kneeled on the other side of me. I reached up and began stroking them both, taking turns taking them into my mouth. Other men were stroking above my breasts, and the sight of those fine specimens stroking themselves as their hands ran over my body was incredible. I never wanted it to end.

I had done it all. They came in my mouth, some two, some three times. There was a creamy, warm puddle of semen on my breasts, dripping down my sides, pooling in my navel, sliding down my chin, all over. I was frosted with sauce. The sun warmed it up like the finest of massage oils as they rubbed it into my skin. I had orgasmed so many times I was weak, but I wanted to keep going. Gentle orgasms that rocked me slowly, powerful orgasms that stole my breath, continual orgasms that made my blood flow like lava. It was like living in a dream that I never wanted to awaken from. By the time we had stopped, the sun was beginning its descent to the horizon. I felt a thousand things at once- flushed, warm, sticky, gooey, exhausted, exhilarated, spent, charged with energy, everything and nothing. I lay back, catching my breath, and Lars was still with me. He picked me up and carried me to the ocean and rinsing me off, his hands cleaning me with that refreshingly warm salt water. The setting sun still beat down, drying me off quickly as we stood, holding each other for long moments. He led me back to the men, who were eagerly pointing to the glade and talking excitedly amongst themselves. Lars smiled in sweet confusion as they led us in.

The men had made a bed out of palm leaves and soft ferns, surrounded by wild flowers that christened the air with their sweet scents, framing our bed like a picture. The sun’s rays penetrated the foliage in brilliant yet soft beams, giving it an almost mystical light. Lars scooped me up in his arms and carried me over the threshold. I looked into his eyes and kissed him as he stepped into our bed. Apparently, this was isolated for us… the other men had made beds some distance from us to give us privacy. That they would do this for Lars, that the men loved him so, would have spoken volumes to me, even if I had known nothing else about him. It was sweet.

As Lars laid down on his back, I nestled up against him, my head on his chest, hearing the drumbeat of his heart, hypnotic in its rhythm. I felt his arm around me and his gentle kisses as I realized, I had once had it all. Upper crust lifestyle, and all the perquisites that came with it. I had lost it all in a tempest, and gained something more once I had found my little good luck charm. I had a man who truly and without reservations loved me, yet the ultimate fantasy of having several sexy men at my beck and call. I could let passion take me to where I had never thought of, like a new door opening for me every day. I could do things ‘proper’ society would have shuddered at, for these men accepted me in ways my former friends never could have. My mind filled with such raw sexual thoughts… I could have them all go down on me, I could suck them or fuck them all in every possible way. I could give them all pleasure and have them give me pleasure in ways I had not yet discovered.

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