The Island – Chapter 8

First time sex stories: The Island – Chapter 8

The dawn was just cracking open the eastern sky when I woke. I’ve always been an early riser, and years of residency only reinforced that tendency. I carefully disentangled myself from Janie’s embrace, and sat back, admiring her sleeping form. My eyes traced the gentle curve of a breast as it met with her ribs. Her taut abs rose and fell with each gentle snore. The thick strip of brown fur on her mound still had dried cum in it from last night, and I smiled as I envisioned her scrubbing it off while preparing for Christopher’s sexual awakening. “You can thank me later, kid,” I murmured to myself as I stretched my naked body in the sun.

After picking out a clean set of clothes for the day, I pulled a stick of deodorant, a bar of soap, and a towel from my suitcase, which I had parked at Janie’s “house” for the duration. Might as well hang on to the trappings of civilization as long as they held out, I thought. I considered a razor as well, but figured I had a good start on a beard after 4 days and that I would grow it out for now. Before leaving, I covered Janie with a towel so other early risers wouldn’t get an eyeful. Scouting the beach, I confirmed everyone was still sleeping, then sprinted naked to the water near the south end of the lagoon.

I dropped my gear above the waterline, then dove cleanly into the azure waves. Swimming the length of the lagoon, I turned and swam back to my clothes. I climbed out of the water feeling much more awake, and grabbed my stuff, climbing over the rocks toward the stream. I strolled nude to the stream, then followed its course into the jungle.

After a few feet I came to a small pool, and set my things down on the bank. I rinsed the salt off my body, then scrubbed myself down with soap. The fresh water was much cooler than the ocean, and felt good on my slightly sunburned skin as I sluiced off the lather. I toweled off, then dressed in fresh, clean clothes, feeling mighty fine. Figuring I had a few minutes until my breakfast date with Gabrielle, I decided to follow the creek upstream and see how far it was to what I thought of as Joelle’s pool.

As I walked, I contemplated the issue of Gabrielle. As much as I loved suckling on her milky tits, I wasn’t sure I could commit to it every morning for however long we stayed here. I had just come up with what I thought was a brilliant solution when I heard singing.

Peering through the foliage, I realized I had reached the larger pool I was looking for, just a few hundred yards from the smaller one I had bathed in. The singing was in a language I was not familiar with, and I put down my towel and toiletries in order to creep forward undetected.

My breath escaped in a soft sigh as I caught sight of the singer: I may have discovered the 8th wonder of the world, I thought. Spotlighted by a shaft of sunlight penetrating the dense jungle canopy stood a lovely young woman, just beginning to undress for her own morning bath. She must have awoken just after me, I thought, and figured everyone else was asleep, so might as well have a little me time.

I silently crept down the game trail that ran along the stream, carefully picking my way closer until I knelt down behind a flowering bush not 10 feet from the girl. Now that I was nearer, I recognized Yasmine, one of the cheerleaders. She had removed her blouse, folded it neatly, and placed it on top of her sandals on the rocks adjacent to the water. She was a stunning beauty of perhaps 16 years old, with café-au-lait skin, rich dark curls of hair, now pinned up on top of her head, and entrancing, almond shaped eyes set in a face that would test a monk’s vows. As I watched, she slid her shorts off her long, coltish legs and stood there in a lavender bra and panty set that complemented her tan body, folding the garment and placing it with the rest of her clothes.

I have always had a weakness for women in an unguarded moment. They seemed much more natural and carefree when no one was watching. So much the better if they are naked, too! I guess this made me a full-on voyeur, but a man has to accept his nature.

My young lovely was singing to herself in what sounded like a Middle-Eastern language. I wasn’t sure what country she hailed from, so I didn’t know if it was Arabic, Farsi, Turkish or some other dialect entirely. I didn’t care. She had such a sweet voice she could have been signing in Klingon for all it mattered. My mouth was dry as I watched her reach behind her back to unhook her bra. Thank you God, if you’re up there, for this gift, I thought reverently. I suspected I would remember this for the rest of my life.

Her slender shoulders dipped as the lacy, purple scrap of fabric slid off her chest, revealing succulent teenage breasts perched high on her chest. Her faint tan lines accentuated the dark brown cones of her nipples, which made perfect secondary mounds on the tips of her firm tits, pointing jauntily upward. They jiggled slightly as she placed her bra on top of the rest of her clothing and reached for the waistband of her panties.

Oh sweet Jesus, here it comes, I thought. The moment of truth. My heart was pounding so hard it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it. Down went the panties, and my breath stopped in my chest. As she carefully placed them on the pile, I feasted my eyes on her naked body. Her flat stomach flared into nice, womanly hips without an ounce of excess fat. She had trimmed her dark pubic hair into a little heart, below which her light brown labia were waxed clean. A thin strip of dark meat peeped out of the delicate gash in her mons.

I see naked women every day in my job, and yet an attractive woman’s body still makes me weak in the knees. A body of this caliber comes along only rarely, however, and I was dumbstruck by her beauty. I almost cried when she turned her back to me, stepping into the water, but was saved from despair by the sight of her gorgeous ass, an inverted heart shape of perfect proportions, just a few shades lighter than the rest of her, with twin dimples at the top where it met her torso. Her hips rocked back and forth as she stepped down into the water. Thankfully it was only knee deep, and to my everlasting gratitude she turned back toward me, unpinning and shaking out her rich mane of dark hair.

She squatted in the water, giving me a brief glimpse of the darker inner lips hiding in her cleft, and dipped her head in the water. She thoroughly wet her hair, then splashed the cool water all over her divine form. She stood back up, flinging her hair back over her head like a music video vixen. I shoved my shorts off blindly, my hand finding my rigid cock and stroking it firmly, never taking my eyes off this bathing beauty. As I pumped my swollen member, she leaned forward to reach her shampoo.

Resuming her singing, she began lathering up her hair, leaning back such that the sun gleamed on her naked young body. Her teen tits wiggled fetchingly as she scrubbed her hair, leaving the soapy mass piled upon her head. Picking up the bar of soap, she washed her face, quickly rinsing it off, then lathered up her chest, stroking soapy fingers over those young breasts, the stiff peaks of her areolae springing from under her hands as they passed. I would have given my left nut, currently bouncing around in my hanging scrotum as I jerked off, to be reborn as that bar of soap.

Yasmine raised her right arm in a delicate motion that resembled an X-rated ballerina, and caressed one smooth armpit with her soapy left hand. Once she had worked up a lather, she trailed the hand down her arm, leaving a trail of bubbles. She worked them into her dark skin, then repeated the process with the other arm. Stroking those taut mounds once more (Oh, I bet that feels soooo good! my mind moaned) she began soaping her flat belly. She then scrubbed her back, thrusting her lightly jiggling tits at me as she strained to reach the middle.

My dick was dripping as we approached the main event. She worked up some bubbles in her hands with the soap, and pressed the lucky lather to her pussy. She worked it into the hair, first, then slowly into the folds of her feminine flower. I watched those delicate hills and valleys pressed from side to side, caressed by her tender fingers as she cleaned her divine divot. Reaching around behind, she repeated the process with her ass, stroking soapy fingers along the tight crack between her cheeks and massaging her asshole perhaps a little longer than absolutely necessary. I had to restrain myself from leaping into the water with her and licking those fingers, settling instead for doubling the speed with which I was yanking on my aching cock.

She finished her bath by bending over and washing those long, smooth legs, then lying back in the water so that only her mouth, nose, and nipples broke the surface. Vigorously washing the bubbles out of her hair, she ran her hands once more over that glorious body to remove the soap and stood up again. She twisted her hair into a long rope, wringing out the excess water, and climbed out of the pool to begin toweling off. She rubbed her hair with the towel, drying the thick mane as best she could, then worked her way down that sweet chest and belly, and finally fluff-drying her pubes and buffing her tan twat to a shine. Her last gift to me was to bend over and dry her legs, winking at me with the tight, brown ring of her anus.

This sublime show, so much more erotic than any porn, was brought to an abrupt end by a distant female voice calling my name from the beach. I stopped jerking my johnson, my heart in my throat, as Yasmine quickly dressed and ran back towards camp. Goodbye, my little angel! I thought sadly. I will never forget you!

Pulling on my shorts over my boner and picking up my crap, I trudged down the stream toward the ocean, and Gabrielle. Cheer up! I thought to myself. Now you get to suck milk out of a sexy Frenchwoman’s succulent tits! My dick began throbbing even harder as I wondered what treat maman had in store for me.