Chapter 8
I was abruptly awakened by a sharp cry that came from above deck. It was the raucous voice of Jack Dill that sent me stumbling from my bed.
"Land ahoy," he shouted several times.
I did not know whether this was a practical joke or whether I was in for some excitement.
Perhaps I have failed to tell you about my daily chores. I didn't want to bore you with them. The work was hard and I was responsible for all the duties that a cabin boy must perform.
The first to arise in the morning, that was me. I made breakfast and cleaned off the table. With the help of Mag Dill I prepared lunch and dinner. All the ship's brass and woodwork was polished and scrubbed by yours truly. Countless other tasks were part of my daily routine. I never complained. I took to the sea like a dolphin.
Was it really possible that we were within sight of land? I had no idea what direction we had taken or what our destination was to be. I hustled to put on my trousers and scamper up to the top deck.
I was there in less than five minutes. And it was true. We were approaching an island. It stood out placid and green with vegetation. To my left was the stalwart stevedore and I decided to pump him with questions.
"Where are we Jack? What island is that? Are we going to land there?" One after the other I demanded an answer.
"I don't know kid. Your guess is as good as mine." He handed me his binoculars.
I saw palm trees along the sandy beach and everything seemed to be swallowed up by an abundance of plants of varied species.
I looked from one corner of the island to the other. It was all the same except for one thing. I thought I noticed a head pop out from the brush. Was my imagination playing tricks on me? I rubbed my eyes and looked again. No, it wasn't my imagination the head was there. The fierce head of an aborigine.
"Look Jack, look over in that direction. You'll see someone." I gave him the binoculars.
He looked around right at the spot I indicated.
"I don't see anything kid. You must be dreaming."
I grabbed the binocs right out of his hands without asking for permission. When I focused on the same area, there was nothing. I thought it would be best to concede and admit that I was wrong.
"It must have been a bird or something," I lied and he laughed teasingly.
He yawned and said he was going to go below. I asked him for the use of the binoculars and he was gracious enough to give them to me. Once again I searched the island, but again I found nothing.
I felt a presence near me and when I turned around I saw the statuesque Nora gazing upon the isle with an expression that I'll never forget.
"That island is Frigolia and we are going to tie up there for some time." She said mysteriously and yet exquisitely.
"Peter, on that island is the only man in the world who can please me. He is the mighty chief of the Frigolians and his name is Schlanga." Her eyes ablaze in anticipation.
"I thought I saw a native on the island with his head all painted in many colors."
"It's quite possible for the Frigolian's paint their cheeks with a special dye." She explained to me.
I was glad to hear that I wasn't wrong.
"Go awake everyone and tell them we are about to disembark. Tell them to prepare their rough clothing." She ordered me with enthusiasm.
I went below and knocked on the door of the Roaches. There was no answer. I decided that it was important that they know that we plan on going ashore. I opened the door discreetly and peek in on an indecent scene.
Rosalind was sucking Melvin's extended prick and at the same time she was masturbating herself with a candle. I didn't have the nerve to disturb them so I went in search of the Dills.
I knocked for a good minute on their cabin door but no one answered. I took another chance and opened the door ever so lightly. The surprise I beheld was appalling. Jack Dill was sucking the damp pussy of his tartish wife and she in turn was licking his cock in a most gluttonous manner. I closed the door softly and tiptoed away.
When I got on deck, I prepared some excuses.
"Well, are they ready to come out?" Nora asked me.
"They're washing up," I lied.
"Washing up, my eye. They're all screwing. I know their morning caprices alright." And it seemed as though Nora did.
She never stopped looking through the binoculars as we drew near the island.
"Soon they will really be able to engage in some red-hot antics when they meet the Frigolian's. Those people make love in the most peculiar way twenty to twenty-hours of the day. They even eat while making love. If you don't believe me, you'll see soon enough."
I can't really say how I imagined it would be to make love or just simply have intercourse or whatever they might do for twenty hours. I simply told Nora that it was interesting and asked how they managed to do so.
"They eat some particular herb that is found on the island and it works as an aphrodisiac. It drives them into a passionate ecstasy. Even the monkeys have to hide when a Frigolian warrior comes through the brush." Nora related this strange tale to me.
"Once a Frigolian died while making love. After extracting him from the woman's vaginal hole, his penis remained hard and rigid for seven days before it went soft. A story goes around that several of the women made love with him while he was dead and one even insists that she had a baby with him while he was dead." She told this story as though she believed it were possible.
On the horizon I could see a fleet of barks that were coming toward our yacht. Obviously it was the Frigolian's who were preparing to welcome us.
"They will probably take us in their boats. The Frigolian's are strange people and one must be careful not to insult them. It would not be inconceivable for them to turn head-hunter for they have done just about everything else. So be careful Peter and behave like a gentleman." She warned me and offered me sound advice.
I did not like what I had heard. It isn't that I'm a coward, but I don't like to be with super-sensitive people. And it appeared from what Nora said that these natives might not be able to take a joke.
The flimsy boats hovered around the yacht and Nora waved to these odd savages of love. As for myself, I decided to go below and stir the others. This time I hoped that I would have more success.
On the way down to the sleeping quarters I met Hilda who was rushing up on deck. I wanted to tell her about what was happening but she snubbed me in the most impertinent way.
The others were preparing themselves to meet the Frigolian's and Rosalind was putting on her best perfume and exclaiming how exciting it all was.
Mag put on a special shade of lipstick when I mentioned the story of twenty hours of love.
Soon we were all on deck looking down at the curious men in their hollow shell boats.
They stared up at us with their big eyes that reeked of passion. Their bodies were muscular and bronzed. But the most notorious item that met our perplexed eyes was the size of their dicks which stood up like so many masts.
"It isn't true," laughed Rosalind. "Why Mag you should have a lot of fun."
Mag looked down and wet her lips.
"Don't worry I plan on having a good time. Just take a look at that one over there. It must be over a foot long." She pointed to one of the natives.
A native who seemed to be more decorated than the others came on board and began jabbering in an incomprehensible language. For a moment I thought we were lost, but Nora, good old Nora, was able to chat with the powerful savage.
"He says that Schlanga is awaiting us. He also wants to warn us that neither we nor the natives can have any sexual relations before he inspects everyone of us. It is a ritual and something sacred. We musn't abuse this rite." Nora looked at each one of us to see that we understood.
One by one we left the yacht and climbed into the tiny barks. Since we were not too many we were all privileged to get a bark to ourselves. I was not sure whether I liked this idea or not.
Shortly after, the fleet headed for the island and we left the yacht anchored in the harbor. Strong arms paddled us toward the sparkling isle.
I turned to look at my boat companions. They all seemed to have big hungry eyes. There was only one was to describe them. They seemed love starved.
Their lips seemed moist and their nostrils dilated without stopping. There was an undulation in their movement that cannot be justly described.
Little by little we gained the mainland. The sea was a dappled blue and the sand clean and white. Beyond the sand I could make out some huts that were hidden behind the brush.
I was helped out of the light vessel by two strong arms. In a few minutes I was with the others who had arrived somewhat later.
Stupefied, we all made a safari toward the village. The only one among us who was really bubbling was Mag. I could just see that her hand was itching to grab one of those sturdy penises. It is queer that a woman with a husband like Jack Dill would yearn another man.
Hilda was dragging her tail like a sick puppy dog. It was too evident that the sex of a male held no interest for her. Rosalind was a bit offended by the austerity of the natives, but her husband Melvin was staring hungrily at the huge sausages that were on display before his button-hole eyes.
After a good hike we reached the village and we were told to rest before we could be received by the great Schlanga. We all huddled together and naturally it was the women who started their tongues wagging.
"Did you get a look at those joy rods?" Mag dug her shoulder into the mid-section of her well-built stevedore husband.
"Tone down, Mag, you'll get us all chewed up alive," Jack cautioned his gay wife.
A superior of the chiefs came out to tell us that his majesty would like to see us. But first we had to put on the proper clothing, accompanied by a paint job to be performed at the witch doctor's hut.
We all complied. Simply because we did not have any other choice. Scantily clad, we sauntered over to the witch doctor's quarters. He was covered with bites, tattoos and paint.
He welcomed us in and had a bad habit of tapping the rear-end of the ladies as though he were testing the quantity and quality of the meat stored up.
The witch doctor's name was Fartug or something resembling that sound. He performed his job meticulously and the men were made-up before the women. It seems that the men are given special rank on the island and that women are generally treated as inferiors.
The substance used as paint had a strange odor which made me think of vegetables ground up and highly seasoned. I licked the paint on my arm and found it to have almost the same taste as that of a carrot. My chest had a greenish color which tasted not unlike spinach.
We four men, Dill, Paul, Melvin Roach and myself left the bamboo hut while the women were prepared for the afternoon get together.
I decided to stay behind and take a peek through the window. I was curious to know whether Fartug would apply his royal paints on the females as he did on the males. I had a suspicion that something extra would be used.
The first to undergo treatment was Rosalind. Fartug made a short study of her and then applied some coloring to his tongue which he ran over Rosalind's bare breasts using his oral instrument as a paint brush.
With us men, he applied the paint with his hand or with a paint brush. It seemed as though the women were made for something else. Later I found that mouthing the women in a certain way can only be accomplished in the presence of the priest Schlanga. Naturally, the witch doctor was not under constant surveillance. He could do what he pleased.
Fartug almost licked every corner of Rosalind's superb body. She was breathing heavily especially after his tongue had encircled her sex giving it an orange tinge. Her certainly was a master at his job.
All the while he was performing, his enormous sex was at full strength. At one moment he snapped his fingers and young girl came in with a huge feather and at his command began rubbing the feather ever so lightly over his stiff brown shaft.
Rosalind was asked to sit down on his lap while he painted her back. Needless to say she was forced to insert the gigantic rod in her rump and on doing that she had a surprised look. I had never seen that expression on Rosalind's strong sensual face.
I had the feeling that Rosa was moving around a little too much and I was afraid that Fartug would not like it. But soon the process of painting the back was terminated and Rosalind Roach was forced to give her place to another.
It was Mag's turn and she was already humped over the sturdy cock of the witch doctor. Fartug glared at her and in some vociferous language probably admonished her audacity. Nora had to pull the girl away and ask her to act normally.
Mag succumbed to the tongue licking and she was panting like a dog in heat. She must have come several times for her eyes grew red and she appeared to have light convulsions every time Fartug rolled his tongue around a vital sensual part of the body.
Then came the feather which leisurely touched the tip of Fartug's prick. Mag was asked of to straddle the doctor's legs and she did not hesitate for an instant. While the high administrator tried to decorate Mag's back the girl lost her head and jiggled around like an uncontrolled puppet. She was entirely besides herself. Puffing away like a locomotive, she was up and down on Fartug's prick like a bitch who had not screwed for years.
I could not see the conclusion, because Paul whistled for me to come. It would be fatal to disobey the great Schlanga. Besides, I wanted to see this noble chief. And so I left the girls to their own individual treatment.
I was wondering all the time how Hilda would take it. She must have managed alright, for when I saw her she was ornamented even more than the others.
The supreme ruler of the Frigolian's was sitting out on his balcony. He was dressed in a bright colored frock and was the only one to wear a garment. His eyes shone like two bright diamonds and his bearing was lordly and straight.
Nora showed us how to bow to the great chieftain and we all followed suit. Schlanga spoke to Nora in their confusing language which seemed like grunts and groans. She answered him with her own version of the language and at least it was understood.
Mrs. Rugt came back to us and told us what the head man had to say.
"The paints that are on us are vegetable flavorings. (I wasn't wrong after all). We are going to eat off the skin of the natives and they are going to eat off ours. He warned us that if one of his men becomes particularly passionate and takes a bit out of us in search of meat, the man or woman will be completely destroyed."
We were all horrified and we did not try to hide what we felt. Many of us jabbered that this was impossible and that we could only live in the manner that human beings were accustomed to live.
Nora toned us down with some sound advice.
"We are at their beck and call, don't forget. I have already mentioned that they are extremely sensitive and are liable to take things in a bad light. If this should happen every one of us will be roasted alive. So keep your heads and wits about you."
Once again, we had no choice. We offered our exteriors like one present delicious plates of which the platter should be licked clean.
We chose partners. I was introduced to a full-bosomed woman with big hungry lips. She was especially given over to me, because she had a great area from which to eat. Since our appetites were probably sharp we were permitted to indulge with the greater and more sumptuous plates.
It was true that I was hungry. Maybe it was from the hike to the village, the excitement or perhaps from fear, I really did not know. Although I was starved I had no intention of eating or licking away in this vulgar unearthly fashion.
Stevedore Jack Dill was busy licking the cherry juice from an Amazon-type woman and apparently enjoying it. I was relieved to see that Melvin Roach refused to go through the ordeal. Mag was already sucking away at a great slab of meat and it was evident she was hungry in more ways than one.
I was surprised to see Paul, whom I looked upon as a friend and guide, indulge in the feast. He was drinking in a teat and I imagine that the poor fellow must have been starved.
Nora was being ravished or rather eaten up by the high priest, Schlanga who was making some succulent noises. She in turn was nibbling on his ear.
I decided that I would indulge. I lowered my mouth to the damsel's belly button where I tasted the fine nectar of apricots. It wasn't at all disagreeable. I continued around her mid-section and found that I was munching on a tasty fruit salad. Sucking on her teats gave a little milk with a pink flavor. The mere delight of eating in such an odd way caused me to grow sexually excited.
When my dick shot out and rubbed the lower abdomen of the young buxom native girl, she returned her hunger by chewing on my ears and neck. Exactly what nourishment she found there, I could not say.
Everyone was lapping their delicacies and apparently enjoying it. The great noise of munching and licking reached a great pitch and it certainly proved that the food preparations and the company was a total success.
In all this I was trying to locate our little prize Miss, Hilda. She could not be seen. I became worried. Although we had many spats and words together, I still had a fondness for her.
Near the fire, I noticed a flock of natives surrounding what seemed to be a fountain. I had already remarked that the meal was excellent but there was not enough to drink. This area must have been reserved for liquids and once I became thirsty, I excused myself and wandered over to the area occupied by many Frigolian's.
When I got there and brushed by several natives, I was completely stupefied at what I saw.
There was young Hilda spread out like a bear rug, stretched out between two poles with her ankles and wrists tied. Her head was practically touching the ground and she looked like she was standing on her head. Her legs were spread far apart and she was braced in that flying squirrel position by the two bamboo poles.
Horror of horrors, the thirty natives were drinking from her cunt. Hot wine was prepared over the fire and Hilda was serving as a punch bowl.
Since her pussy was not too large, the natives would merely take a little sip.
Oh! but why mention all this, I am too sick to think about it. All I remember was kneeling on the ground tilting my head in order to ask Hilda if she was alright.
"Go away, you fool. Can't you see that for the first time I'm enjoying myself." She squealed with delight.
Sick at heart, I tottered back to my delicious partner.