Chapter 1
Sally Porter sat in the shade of trees lining the white beach, staring across the crystal-clear lagoon to the pink coral reef and, beyond it, the endless plane of the sea. She was facing north, toward the distant shipping lanes. To her left or west flank, the evening sun merged redly with the flat horizon, flooding the placid seascape with shades of crimson and orange.
Across the lagoon, beyond the reef, there was no remaining sign of the cabin cruiser. Not the slightest ripple, nor any vestige of flotsam and debris remained to mark its violent passing.
Sally was seized by a sudden chill in spite of the warm early evening. Her hair and clothes had dried hours ago, but the memory of the morning's events still brought the gooseflesh to her skin with the realization of how narrowly they had all escaped disaster.
It had all been a tragic accident, clearly. There was no possible question of human error involved, no slightest hint of negligence in the cruel fate of the ship Orion. It had been the fog, without question, that strange, almost unearthly South Pacific mist which had greeted them at dawn and clung to them throughout the morning hours. That damnable mist which had betrayed them, and led them headlong into keel-buckling contact with the coral reef of the jungle island, miles off their course and hopelessly lost.
TheJog was long gone now, like some evil figment of the imagination which retreats before the coming light of day, but its legacy and aftereffects were real enough. Sally Porter trailed her fingertips gingerly across the fine sand on which she sat, reflecting for the thousandth time upon the circumstances which had brought her to this particular point in time and space.
The cruise itself had been Jennie's idea, but Sally admitted to herself that she had gone along with the wild scheme willingly enough after she overcame her initial reticence. Jennie was Jennifer Tendall, Sally's oldest and sometime only friend, a young woman who had shared with her the joys and pains of growing up for more than half of Sally's twenty-two years.
It was strange, really, that Sally and Jennifer should be friends at all, since they were so totally different in personality. Jennie was vivacious, outgoing and self-confident, especially around men. (Sally hesitated to consider the label "promiscuous," although she secretly admitted that it fit very nicely.) Sally, on the other hand, while every bit as attractive as Jennie, seemed eternally reticent and shy, the born wallflower. Still a virgin in mind and body, Sally was often shocked by the things Jennie said and did, but of late she had determined to loosen up and become at least slightly more like her friend in the romance department. After all, she didn't want to end up as a wrinkled old maid.
Sally's uncle Max had paid for the cruise, at least indirectly, by dying on the seventeenth hole of his favorite golf course and thereby bequeathing Sally a substantial sum of cash. Jennie saw the possibilities at once, and began casting about for provocative ways to spend the windfall before Uncle Max was decently cold. Not that Jennie wanted money for herself, there was never any question of that. But she and Sally were friends, and Jennie saw it as her sacred duty to transform the demure blond virgin into a stylish woman of the world.
The cruise had seemed like a masterstroke, arranged at discount rates through a boyfriend of Jennie's who worked for a travel agency. The voyage took them to Hawaii, and from there on toward Tahiti and Australia, where Jennifer assured Sally there were unattached and willing young males in great abundance. They had been in Tahiti when the chance came to visit outlying islands aboard the Orion, and they took the opportunity, again at Jennie's insistence.
The side trip was a day old when they woke up to find themselves enveloped in the blanket of cloying mist. Somehow the weather seemed to dampen spirits and squelch the normal sunbathing and horseplay which had marked their shipboard hours thus far. Jennifer had slept late, but Sally was restless and she paced the deck during those morning hours, peering intently over the rail into the thick fog.
Around nine in the morning Sally had happened to find herself next to an open porthole. The hushed snatches of conversation which drifted to her from beyond the bulkhead informed her that it was the porthole of a passenger cabin. Further, she could recognize from the voices that this must be the cabin occupied by businessman Bart Williams and his curvaceous "secretary," Mollie Curtis. Sally listened idly to the drifting voices, only catching a word here and there. She was about to stroll on her way when the woman's urgent tones riveted her attention more intently.
"Oh yes, Bart," Mollie Curtis was saying, her tone almost fierce in its intensity, "that feels so good!"
Sally felt a little prickle of mingled embarrassment and lewd excitement race along her spine. She knew inherently that she should leave them in peace, and that it was wrong to eavesdrop upon them in the privacy of their intimate moments together. But just as surely, she knew that she was an unwilling witness to something she had only dreamed about in secret moments, and the renewed tingle of forbidden excitement drew her closer to that open port hole rather than away from it. She drew nearer, moving on tiptoe, almost holding her breath in the fear that she would be discovered and exposed as a voyeuristic eavesdropper for intruding on the couple's privacy.
Sally looked quickly about her, making sure that no one was close enough to see her easily through the mist, and then she moved still nearer to the round open window. She found that by standing on tiptoe and craning forward, she could just catch a glimpse of the cabin within. And, to her surprise, where she had expected fog to impede her vision, the interior of the room was completely clear. Sally let her eyes travel over those furnishings in the dim light of a single lamp, following the walls until they fastened upon the centerpiece of the room.
The stateroom's large bed was directly in front of Sally, arranged with its head right beneath the open porthole. The lamp which cast its dim light about the cabin was on a nightstand at one side of the bed, bathing the bed and its occupants in a feeble yellow glow that barely reached the porthole. Sally's eyes roved over the big oval bed and locked there, stunned and entranced, a tiny gasp forced from her throat at what she saw.
Bart Williams and his secretary lay upon that mattress, close within each other's arms. And, most stunning of all to puritanical Sally, they were both stark naked! Sally blinked in disbelief as she watched the couple sharing a deep soul kiss, their hands exploring each other's nakedness so close to her that she could have leaned through the open port hole and joined the foreplay with her own hands.
As Sally watched, blushing furiously with a combination of shame and arousal, as one of Bart Williams's hands insinuated itself between Mollie's firm tan thighs. The woman broke the long kiss, her head lolling from side to side on the soft pillow as she groaned in evident passion, her own fingers clawing at Bart's shoulders and back in excitement.
"Jesus, yes, honey," Mollie Curtis was moaning softly, so that Sally could barely hear her voice. "That's so good! Please don't stop!"
Bart Williams had no apparent intention of stopping his lewd caress, for his hand began to move all the more energetically, and he buried his face in the hollow of Mollie's throat. The combined stimulation of hands and mouth was quickly driving the nude secretary into a frenzy of desire, and Sally watched, entranced, as her whole luscious body undulated and writhed beside her lover on the mattress.
As she stood watching the lewd foreplay, Sally had become aware of some strange stirrings within her own virginal body, and now, hours later as she sat alone on the beach, the memories of that moment were sufficient to rekindle the feelings. Sally blushed bright crimson as she felt her little nipples begin to stiffen within the lacy confines of her bra, and the warm sort of tingling began once more in the tight crevice between her firm thighs. Sally clenched her knees tighter together, seeking to quench those early flames of arousal as she concentrated hard on her memories of that morning.
She recalled vividly the lustful sight of Bart and Mollie as they lay together on that bed in naked splendor, arms and legs tangled and writhing, mouths and hands searching, questing after hidden treasures. Mollie's voice kept up an almost constant litany of mewling little pleasure moans and cries, proclaiming unmistakably her own state of mounting sexual fervor.
Sally had watched intently as Bart slid lower on the bed, his busy hand remaining in Mollie's crotch while his lips and tongue followed the soft curve of her throat. Now he was kissing and lapping at the firm upper curve of her taut breasts, slowly working his nibbling way upward along one fleshy mound toward the pink summit of her distended nipple. Mollie's body convulsed instantly as he enveloped that cherry bud with his hot mouth, masking it from Sally's view entirely as he pinned it with pearly teeth and lashed it unmercifully with his tongue tip. Mollie's fingers tangled in Bart's hair, tugging his hungry mouth tighter against her excited breast flesh. Her spine arched, thrusting her torso upward into closer conjuction with her lover's face.
Sally had been surprised to feel an unfamiliar tingling sensation in her own firm young breasts as she watched Bart Williams suck and lick his secretary's tits. Even now, a seeming eternity later as she sat on the warm beach sand and reminisced about those forbidden moments, the strange feeling returned. Shocked and slightly horrified, Sally felt the cherry little nipples of her breasts stiffening into quivering erection at the very thought of the lustful scenes she had witnessed on board the Orion.
Sally Porter blushed with shame and private embarrassment, knowing full well that it was somehow wrong to derive arousal and excitement from such an act of voyeurism. Still, there was no denying the fact that she had been excited watching Williams and his secretary, and the memories of that scene now proved as lustfully exciting as the events themselves.
Sally brought her fingers up to the now rigid nipples of her breasts, slowly stroking and massaging them through the double barrier of her blouse and bra, hoping against hope that she would thus be able to still the tingling arousal she felt budding there. To her mounting horror, her touch upon those erect little buds only seemed to have the opposite effect, increasing their excitation and setting off a responsive twinge of hot arousal in her loins at the same time.
The young woman almost panicked as she realized that what she was doing amounted to the first stages of masturbation, but for some unknown reason she seemed unable to halt the manual stimulation of her burning nipples. Reluctantly, almost unconsciously, Sally began to slowly unfasten the tiny buttons of her blouse one at a time, haltingly baring the milky flesh of her ripe young tits.
As she opened her blouse timidly, Sally's mind was locked on the memories of what she had seen through the porthole of Bart Williams' cabin on board the Orion. There she had stood, the thick ocean fog masking her voyeurism, as she peered through the round open window to witness the lusty little drama being enacted there as if for her sole benefit.
Bart Williams had finally, reluctantly, withdrawn his mouth from the moist cones of Mollie Curtis' breasts, sliding his hungry lips and tongue with almost agonizing slowness along the heaving plane of her flat white stomach. So slowly did he move that Mollie was whining and cursing softly for him to go faster, and for one awful instant Sally was tempted to add her own voice to the urgings, so rapt was she in the ongoing drama of their lovemaking.
Sally's blouse was open now, revealing her milky breasts in their lacy halter to the caress of the ocean breeze and her light, feathery fingers. She shivered inwardly as those fingertips trailed lightly across the upper curve of one breast, her mind crying out for her to stop while there was yet time. But the warning mental voice was doomed to failure and with a loud sigh of final resignation she slipped her fingers inside one cup of her thin bra, shoving the flimsy material brusquely aside as her hand fastened upon the tingling flesh of one erect nipple. She stroked and kneaded that sensitive nub, savoring the delicious forbidden tremors of mounting desire which her own intimate caress sent racing through her lithe torso. Her lustful memories of Bart Williams and Mollie Curtis further fueled the mounting flames of her own budding desire.
On board the Orion, Sally had watched enraptured as Bart's mouth reached the tiny indentation of Mollie's navel and paused there, his tongue tip swirling briefly about the little depression before sliding relentlessly on. Now his lips were trading little teasing patterns around the fringes of her pubic triangle, his tongue lapping just within the borders of that lightly furred erogenous zone.
Mollie Curtis was in a veritable frenzy of passion, her fingers tangling in Bart's hair and attempting to manipulate his avid mouth still closer to the seat of her passion. But the man was taking his time, enjoying her divine torment, and Sally thought she could hear a lusty little chuckle issue from his throat as he played with the naked woman, keeping her waiting. At last, when he felt that she had withstood enough, he thrust his face forward, his mouth enveloping the pouting little lips of her juicy pink cunt.
Sally blushed at the memory of that inciteful scene, her fingers pinching and twisting with unconscious violence at the rigid stub of her excited nipple as she projected herself fully into her lewd fantasy. She almost imagined that it was she there on that remembered bed instead of Mollie Curtis, and that Bart Williams' hands rather than her own were sending those electric jolts of pleasure racing through her panting body.
Sally's eyes were closed as if in a trance, and she sank back slowly onto the soft beach sand until she was lying prone, completely hidden by the screen of trees and underbrush from any prying eyes along the beach. Her head reeled with pounding desire, and there was no denying the inferno of building lust which she now felt in the moistening furrow between her thighs. The mental alarm bells were still ringing in her head as she slipped gradually over the edge toward sensual surrender, but Sally was having an increasingly difficult time understanding their ancient message.
My God, she told herself in futile panic, I simply can't allow myself to become so excited. I can't ... masturbate!
But the warning cries were all in vain, as the major portion of the virginal young woman's mind continued to occupy itself with the lustful scenes which she had lately witnessed upon the doomed cabin cruiser. One hand continued to taunt and manipulate the tingling flesh of her breast, but now the slim fingers of her free hand were sliding slowly, almost unnoticed, upward along the soft inside of her thigh, toward her loins.
In her mind, Sally Porter was back aboard the Orion, peering with baited breath through the open porthole of the cabin belonging to Bart Williams. She could scarcely believe the scene being enacted before her naive eyes as Bart avidly sucked and lapped at the exposed pink pussy flesh of his writhing, moaning secretary. Mollie Curtis seemed lost in some erotic fantasy world all her own, her head lolling from side to side on the pillow, little mewling cries of pleasure issuing constantly from parted lips as she surrendered totally to the sensations raging around her lower body.
Sally Porter shivered, coming back to partial contact with reality as her creeping fingers reached the silk crotchband of her tight bikini panties. A tremor of mingled desire and disgust wracked her prostrate frame, but the shrinking warning voice of her dwindling conscience was by now far too weak to forestall her single-minded search for pleasure and gratification. In her swirling mind, she was Mollie Curtis for the moment, and she was subconsciously determined not to be deprived of the reward of orgasm.
In her mind's eye, Sally once more watched Mollie writhing under the lewd stimulation of Bart Williams' hands and mouth. Almost in a frenzy, Mollie's hands flew up to cup and pinch her own excited tits, flicking the rigid nipples with her thumbs until they spiked out to almost a fully inch in length. The double stimulation seemed only to increase the young scretary's arousal, and her supple torso undulated fiercely on the bouncing mattress of the loval bed.
Sally Porter's long index finger made a tentative swipe along the crotchband of her panties. An instant tremor of excitement wracked her young boy, immediately followed by surprise as she found that her finger had come away wet. The young woman blushed furiously as she realized that her excitement had already led her to drench the crotch of her skimpy underpants with the secretions of feminine arousal. The very idea was at once both degrading, and somehow terribly lewd and exciting. Her finger retraced its moist path, lingering this time to plot the outline of her pouting little cuntal lips beneath the damp restraining silk.
Sally's physical arousal and lewd mental fantasies had by now begun to blur until the excited young woman was no longer precisely sure where one left off and the other began. She felt as if she was watching the performance of Bart Williams and Mollie Curtis on a movie screen, envying their lustful activities, but at the same time her own intimate masturbating caresses served to give the erotic fantasy more personal immediacy, almost bringing it to life in her own body.
Sally allowed her hands free access to her breasts and crotch as she concentrated fiercely upon the mental image of Williams and his secretary entwined on the stateroom bed. She could clearly picture the other woman's writhing body, almost able to reach out and touch her satiny skin, to stroke the rippling, straining muscles and tendons beneath that skin as Mollie Curtis arched her back, giving Bart Williams ever greater access to her crotch and torso.
Sally Porter trembled violently on the sandy beach as her own probing fingers reached the elastic legband of her bikini panties and slipped tentatively inside. The electric contact of fingertips with the swollen lips of her pussy brought her back arching spasmodically upward off the soft ground. It was a totally new sensation to her, almost as if she had never touched her own genitals before, for indeed, she had never before touched them in just that way. Slowly, falteringly at first and then with greater confidence and expertise, those timid fingertips began to stroke and caress the moist lips of her cunt, evoking little tingling jolts of passion and pleasure from those labia.
Sally recalled how she had stood in the fog, trembling with voyueristic arousal, watching Bart Williams suck and lick his scretary's hungry little snatch. After what seemed to be hours, but must have been mere moments, Bart withdrew his face from the hairy plane of Mollie's crotch, smiling lustfully as he stared up at her along the lush hills and valleys of her own naked body. Sally plainly heard the excited woman's soft groan of impatient frustration, and watched her hips jerk and undulate in tacit invitation to her watching lover.
Bart Williams recognized the woman's sensual need, and was more than willing to accommodate her. Moving swiftly, he rose to a kneeling position directly between his secretary's widely-played thighs. In his new position, his stiffened cock jutted out above her prone torso like a magician's magic wand, in full view of Sally Porter where she stood at the open porthole.
Sally had gasped, clapping a hand instantly to her mouth as she feared that the faint sound might carry to the people inside the cabin and alert them to her presence. Only in pictures from an old medical textbook had she ever seen a male penis before, and those old faded photographs had not even begun to hint at the massive proportions of such an organ at full arousal. Sally stood in awe of that glistening fleshy pole, her eyes lingering over its length and girth, devouring the blunt purple glans as it peeked out from the darker folds of foreskin. She plainly saw a pearly drop of seminal fluid glistening at the tip of Bart's cock, and imagined herself touching the silky flesh of his blood-engorged prick while he crouched there, waving it over Mollie Curtis' splayed crotch.
Remembering there on the beach, Sally was strangely prompted to continue her lewd manipulation of her cunt. Now two fingertips cooperated in the erotic stroking of her pouting little pussy lips, evoking electric jolts of sensual delight with every stroke. At the same time, she continued the incitef ul manipulation of her own rigid little nipple bud, igniting a glowing warmth in her taut breasts that quickly spread outward to suffuse her entire upper body. Between the dual stimulations, Sally Porter was rapidly slipping past the point of erotic no return.
In her mind, she plainly saw Bart Williams stroking and fondling his own erect cock, while his horny secretary looked on and moaned little cries of frustrated passion at the sight. At long last, when neither Mollie nor the hidden Sally were able to beat the strain of his teasing any longer, Bart shifted his pelvic position and guided the fat tip of his cock into burning contact with Mollie's waiting, needing pussy. The woman's entire body was seized by an instant spasm of erotic shock, arching upward like a bow off the mattress as she strove mightily to bring her cunt into closer conjunction with that pleasure-giving cock.
On the beach, Sally Porter continued to stroke and manipulate her cuntal lips with ever more forceful strokes. Slowly, experimentally, one slim finger pressed between those swollen lips, probing and teasing at the moist coralline flesh within.
The result was immediate and emphatic. Sally's body arched and quivered, much as Mollie's had under the teasing caress of Bart's thick cockhead. That comparison, along with the mental image and accompanying physical sensations, was enough to send Sally Porter over the edge into total sexual abandonment. She writhed there on the sand, her stiffened fingers probing ever deeper into the wet, hot mouth of her cunt, stroking and searching for the erotic secrets hidden there.
Bart Williams had teased Mollie's tingling cunt with his prickhead for what seemed to be a very long time. The young woman's excitement continued to mount, until it seemed to Sally that Mollie must either lose consciousness from the intensity of her feelings, or else go hopelessly insane with passion. Bart too seemed to sense the impending sexual crisis within his curvaceous secretary, for suddenly he rocked back on his haunches there, totally withdrawing his penis from contact with the woman's steamy vagina.
Mollie Curtis sat up instantly, propping herself on her elbows as she stared in bewilderment along the lush plane of her body to meet her lover's eyes.
"Wha ... what ... why did you stop?" she asked breathlessly, her voice filled with painful frustration.
"Tell me what you want," the man said tauntingly, daring Mollie to put her passion into words there as she lay naked before him. "Say it. Right now!"
"Cock," Mollie said softly, staring enraptured at his pulsating organ. Then, louder, she repeated it. "I want your cock, Bart. Oh please, fuck meeeeee!!"
Bart Williams growled wordless approval of the woman's final abasement and threw himself upon her, one hand going between their bodies to position his cock for the skewering thrust into her hungry cunt. Mollie Curtis fell back upon the bed with a full throated sigh of relief, her eyes closed and her lips curling upward in a satisfied little smile of personal triumph.
Sally Porter had watched, entranced, when Bart suddenly plunged his hips forward, burying his massive pole of cock flesh to the hilt in Mollie's wet cunt with one skillful thrust. The woman twisted and writhed beneath him, clawed fingers raking at his back as her own hips established a rapid fucking rhythm to complement his. The cabin was instantly filled with wet, smacking, slithering sounds, as Sally Porter watched and listened to lusty, uninterrupted fucking.
Lying on the beach, Sally could picture herself taking Mollie's place beneath the powerfully rutting businessman. Not that she particularly liked Bart Williams, or even knew him for that matter, but the entire mental picture was such that he had assumed the proportions of a mythical epic figure in her lust-dazzled mind. She imagined that his fingers rather than her own were even then plundering her crotch and kneading the stiff node of her nipple, driving her ruthlessly into a fury of passion.
Sally's fingers made sudden, jarring contact with the little nub of her clitoris, causing her body to writhe and twist anew as she taunted and strummed the fleshy little pleasure button. She could feel her feminine secretions flowing wetly now, easing the passage of her fingers as first one probing digit and then another slipped down to explore the clasping elastic mouth of her vaginal channel itself.
Never before had Sally taken such licentious liberties with her own ripe body, and although a twinge of regret and humiliated shame crept now into her mind, it was quickly washed away and drowned by a burgeoning tidal wave of lust. Her fingers pinched almost cruelly at the flesh of her excited little nipple, while the other hand now began to burrow deeper into her cunt, sluicing rigid fingers in and out of her vagina itself with a lewd fucking motion.
In her mind Sally saw Bart Williams pounding his shaft of penile flesh deep into Mollie Curtis' pussy, driving both the woman and himself ever upward toward that plateau of total sensual release. Sally's driving fingers stove to help her get there with them, and she felt herself teetering almost on the brink of orgasm as she relived those voyeuristic moments on board the ship Orion.
Just as Sally felt the prize of total climax within her grasp, something went terribly wrong with the erotic fantasy in her mind. The picture was somehow out of alignment now, and out of focus, seeming to tilt and slide beyond her grasp as an unexpected new element was introduced. The fucking pace of Sally's fingers gradually slowed, then stopped altogether as she swam reluctantly upward through the sensual haze to a level of grim reality.
She had not finished watching Bart Williams and his secretary! She remembered it all clearly now, painfully clear in fact, the memories bringing a sob to her throat, causing her to go limp on the beach as she slowly withdrew hands from her blouse and panties.
Mollie and Bart had never finished their lusty act of animalistic fucking, for at that moment, the Orion had given a sudden, powerful lurch to one side. Sally had been thrown from her feet, tumbling and sliding along the wet deck as the cruiser rocked and twisted, wallowing in the water. From somewhere below, beneath the water, a ripping, growling sound rose up to encompass her entire world.
The ship had struck something! It was badly damaged, sinking! Now, hours later, Sally knew that the deadly barrier had been the island reef, hidden until the last fatal moment by the screen of ocean mist. That cruel rim of coral had gutted the cabin cruiser, dooming it to quick submersion and giving the passengers barely enough time to snatch up one or two prized belongings and fling themselves over the side into the ocean. There was no time even to lower the two lifeboats as the Orion shuddered and rolled in its death throes. Already the ship was sliding backward off the sharp coral, damaging itself further in its backsliding progress, ensuring rapid sinking once it was free of the reef again and into open water.
Sally Porter dared not even risk a return to her cabin. She had no idea where Jennifer was, or if she was all right. There was time only to fling herself into the roiling water and paddle madly, swimming without certain direction until the bottom suddenly rose to meet her legs and she found herself on the narrow white beach of what she took to be an island.
It had taken time, long torturous hours for the others to find their way ashore as well. Jennifer was there, thank God, along with Bart Williams and Mollie Curtis, who had somehow found the time to get dressed before they abandoned ship. Also alive and on shore were two bachelor friends, whom Sally had seen around the Orion and heard introduced to other passengers as Jack Morris and Tom Waverly. Finally, two members of the ship's crew had survived the ordeal, the captain, Phillip Pierce, and his mate, Jason White.
And they were all of the survivors. The seven-man crew of the Orion, plus close to a dozen other passengers, had vanished along with the ship, sliding beneath the azure waves and leaving not a trace behind.
Most of the day had passed in simply drying out and mourning the departed. Only toward evening had the men begun making tentative plans for rescue and survival. It had all been too much too soon for Sally, and she had walked for miles along the beach seeking peace and quiet, treasuring the solitude.
Now, as darkness lowered about her and she lay still on the sand, flushed and breathing heavily from her own near-orgasm, Sally realized that she must make haste to get back to camp. As yet she had no idea what sort of dangers the island might hold by night, and she also did not want to have the others worrying about her or organizing a search party to find her in the darkness.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Sally got to her feet and brushed the sand from her clothing. She quickly buttoned her blouse and straightened her skirt, shrugging as she did so and putting her momentary weakness behind her as she made her way back to the camp. It was their last present link with civilization, that crude little camp, and she was suddenly eager to be back there, with other human beings, around the rosy glow of the camp fire they would have prepared.
Suddenly anxious, Sally Porter picked up her pace and began to run.