The Island – Chapter 5

First time sex stories: The Island – Chapter 5

Joelle and I emerged from the dense jungle lining the beach and walked out onto the sand. Reaching the makeshift hospital ward, we checked on the field hockey coach, whose name I learned was Danielle. She was a tall, thin brunette in her late twenties. She was still unconscious, but seemed to be restless now instead of comatose. Her foot had a bounding pulse, and it looked like our traction scheme had worked to keep her fracture reduced. Checking on the few others that couldn’t get around easily, like Connor, I quickly ascertained that all were doing well and needed no immediate attention.

Quite a pile of supplies had developed on the sand, thanks to the salvage crew. They had removed all of the loose articles, and apparently were busy dismantling the interior, as seats and wall panels and all manner of plastic pieces were lined up next to the luggage. Several of the passengers had taken on the job of unpacking suitcases to dry out the wet clothing and other items within.

I made the trek out to the plane, carefully negotiating the sharp coral of the reef. I found Janie supervising a team tearing wiring out of the walls.

“This should be useful for tying things together, like maybe a shelter,” she mused. “I feel like we don’t know how long we’ll be stuck here. We should get everything off of this plane we can. Who knows what use we may find for even the stupidest piece of crap.”

“You’re right, as usual,” I agreed. “How about the radio, though? Is it still working?”

She looked pained. “No. The entire cockpit is destroyed. It must have caught on a rock when we ditched, because it’s almost ripped right off the plane. Everything inside has either been broken or ruined by the water. The main cabin is a little higher out of the ocean. Other than some wet bags that were on the bottom of the cargo hold, most everything is dry and in pretty good shape.”

Shouts drew our attention to the emergency exit over the wing. Climbing out we heard a woman shouting, “There’s someone in the cargo hold! He’s still alive!”

We scrambled off the wing onto the rocks below. The cargo door was open, and a Korean woman was peering out, gesturing to us to enter. “He looks pretty beat up and half drowned,” she said to Janie.

“That’s your cue.” Janie gestured for me to climb in first. I hauled myself into the bay, and moved in a crouch to the back wall, where the woman was pointing. I could see a dark shape seemingly wrapped around a support beam. Clambering closer over the remaining suitcases I was able to make out a man, unconscious, his arm wedged through a hole in the steel strut. He was an enormous, muscular black man, about 6’6”, with a shaved head. The back of his shirt was torn to ribbons, and he had multiple shallow lacerations across his back. I guessed at some point he had been dragged across the reef by the waves. A quick survey revealed no head injuries, and he was breathing slowly and deeply, with a regular if slightly rapid pulse.

“We need to get him to the beach where I can examine him,” I said.

“What if we float him across the lagoon on some cushions?” Janie asked. “We were able to move some of the luggage that way. I don’t think we will be able to carry him over the rocks and coral.”

“Great idea!”

With several passengers helping, we accomplished the herculean task of ferrying him to the inner side of the reef, and onto the makeshift raft. Myself and two others towed and kicked him to shore, and dragged him into the shade. Joelle and I stripped him down to his skivvies in order to examine him. We could find no other injuries other than the cuts on his back. Those were quickly dressed, and Joelle said, looking at his mouth, ”I think he’s pretty dehydrated.”
I agreed, and we tried dripping some water into his mouth. He seemed to swallow it without a problem. Joelle volunteered to continue the slow process of rehydration. I worked my way back out to the plane to see if I could offer any more help.

“I think we’re about to knock off,” Janie said tiredly. “We’ve been at it since dawn, and the last of the luggage was just sent over. We’ve still got a lot of stuff like carpet and seats, but I think that can wait until tomorrow.”

“You guys have done a fantastic job,” I said, rubbing her slim, muscular shoulders. “Come on back and lets have some dinner.’

“God that feels good!” she moaned. “I am so sore. Food and sitting down sound really appealing right now.”

We collected the rest of the crew and returned to the island. Some enterprising soul had managed to start a fire with eyeglasses, and Joelle had gotten a group of Tae Kwon Do students to fill every possible container with water from the stream we had discovered. Once the workers had relieved their thirst, we all gathered round the fire in the darkening evening to talk and share some of the more perishable food that had been salvaged.

Janie started things off. “Hi everyone. I’m Janie Scarlatti. I’m a corporate efficiency consultant from Maryland. Maybe everybody could introduce themselves so we can get to know each other? This is my son Jared,” she said, hugging the boy next to her.

Everyone in turn gave their name, and shared a little about their life. We spent a couple of hours discussing our situation, and as it got dark, people began drifting off to sleep there on the sand. Those still awake agreed to have a “town meeting” the next day, and make some attempt to organize our group’s survival efforts. I swung by to check on the patients in our makeshift infirmary. All were doing well, including our two sickest, Danielle the hockey coach and the new African man. Neither had woken up yet, but both seemed to be in a natural sleep rather than a coma. Joelle was sacked out nearby, and I figured if there were a crisis, she would come get me.

I ambled back over to Janie and Jared. The boy was already sound asleep, and Janie looked like she was soon to follow. I sat down next to her, and pulled a loose strand of hair out of her face. “You did good today, kid.”

“I hope it all wasn’t for nothing,” she said. “I worry about our chances. I’ve got my boy here. We’ve got to survive. I can’t let him down.” Tears began trickling down her cheeks.

“We are going to be fine,” I said sincerely. “Somehow I know it. Ever since I came to, I have had a feeling that things will work out for the best.” I took her in my arms and gave her a comforting hug, rocking her slender body gently. Something in her seemed to give way, and she sagged against me as her fears got the better of her and she quietly sobbed on my shoulder. I let her outburst run its course, and soon enough she seemed better. I took her chin in my hand and looked into her soft, brown eyes. “Tomorrow we are going to make a plan and get this community off on a good footing. That’s what we are now—a community. We don’t know how long we will be here, but we are going to work together and make the best of it.”

She smiled at me for a moment, and then surprised me with a quick kiss. I tasted the salt of her sweat, and what must have been cherry lip balm. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “I needed a little optimism. You’re right. We will be fine if we work together.” She gave an enormous yawn. “I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. Will you stay with us tonight?”

“Sure,” I said, and she lay down on her side. I stretched out on my back next to her, until she surprised me again by reaching back for my hand and pulling my arm around her so that I was spooning her from behind.

She drifted off to sleep quickly, but my whirling thoughts kept me awake for many minutes. Here I was, sleeping with my arm around this fantastic, sexy woman. She was the one I came on this trip to get close to. And yet I had had that incredible encounter with Joelle in the jungle. And Joelle was someone I had been half in love with for more than a year. No woman in my life for months, and now I had too many, if such a thing was possible. I had no idea what I was going to do. This was typical of me. I loved every woman I knew. I loved their looks, their smells, their tastes. I loved talking to them and being with them. The problem was that once I got close to one, I couldn’t confine myself to just her, and I would end up making it with her friend or something. This never ended well and I would end up hurting the women I cared for. It was a real dilemma for me. Finally exhaustion overcame me and I knew no more.

I woke in the morning with a painful piss hard-on, the situation not helped in the least by the realization that my hand was clutching Janie’s left tit. The nipple was pressing into my palm, and I realized I must have been kneading the firm flesh in my sleep. Fortunately she was still out, so I gently and reluctantly disengaged, rolled over, and got to my feet. I looked around at the breaking dawn, and the sleeping forms scattered along the beach. It seemed that I was the first one up. I staggered into the trees to relieve my distended bladder. After peeing for what seemed like an hour, I shook off and pulled my pants back up. I stretched and checked out my surroundings.

If you discounted the plane crash, terrorists, and dead bodies, this could be a great vacation spot, I thought ruefully. The morning air was cool, and the jungle was a verdant riot of color. Birds zoomed through the trees with unfamiliar cries. Creatures moved through the undergrowth, and everywhere were garish tropical flowers. If you have to be stranded somewhere, I guess this would be a good choice. I turned and headed back toward the beach. Eight steps later, coming around a large tree, I literally stumbled over Janie, who was squatting and taking her own AM piss. She yelped and went sprawling, spraying her own foot with urine, and giving me an unexpected glimpse of her thick, brown bush.

I started to help her, then thought better of it, her pants being around her ankles and all. I muttered an apology and spun around, whacking my head against the tree trunk. I dropped to the ground, seeing stars and spitting curses.