170 Erin And The Shipwreck free porn video
He had spent the whole cruise chatting up a tall willowy blond, he had he thought just cracked the case and was escorting the said lady when they hit the mine, an ex ww2 thing that had floated about the vast ocean all this bloody time and chosen there little cruise ship at a moment when he, Erin Mount-bank was about to get his leg over, the fruition of a week of hard chatting!
25 minutes later he was clinging to a spar and apparently alone in a very wide-open sea, littered with a few wooden crates, and little else, in a current that had taken him well away from the rescue attempt area! To say he was pissed off was an understatement
What had happened to blondie was anyone`s guess, as was the other couple of dozen silly sods who had paid through the nose for this supposedly exclusive trip, cruise, or whatever you liked to call it. A chance to relax it said leave your cares behind…then bang… and here was he clinging to a lump of crappy spar in the middle of the bloody Caribbean!
He took stock and decided to tie himself to the long spar, some sort of wooden flag-post, just in case he became u*********s once more. He being exhausted, and the warm sun and the motion of the waves soon had him dozing off. He came too tumbling through the small waves of a sandy beach, that pole clumping him on the napper as he and it were tumbled onto the sand. He cursed, then dragged himself up the beach a bit, at last feeling safe from drowning sharks and all sorts of vividly imagined horrors. A few hours passed, then finally he awoke, it was dark, silent and eerie, the warm but fast cooling sand lit by a silvery moon, dodds of wooden crud were littering the beach, no doubt from the loss of the boat, ship or whatever the bloody thing was called, his mind a jumble of thoughts. He stood, then rational thought hit home, he took stock, decided having read Robinson Crusoe as a lad that the wood might make a shelter, so began dragging the crud and crates up the sand clear of the high-water mark. Soon tiring of that, he carried one of the smallest crates up clear of the tideline, then another, deciding the biggest would have to be broken up as it was just too big for him on his own. A second group of wooden artefact`s began to be thrown up from the surf, and he collected what he could, till finally a long oak sideboard tumbled onto the sand, one door missing and with a black lump of cloth d****d over its side and inside the body of the thing.
Who knew what he would need to survive, so he dragged the soggy wooden structure ashore, though by then his strength had been exhausted and he slumped against the old and solid oak piece, to rest for a moment. It was some hours later when he awoke, the sun hot and fierce. He stood stretched and began to take stock, he had bruises, lots of them, his right arm had a long scratch, his legs felt stiff, and his muscles tired from his exertions during the night, but he was at least alive and bloody hungry, he also had a raging thirst. He needed to explore the island or atoll that was not much more than a simple sand bar shaped in a long curve like a banana, perhaps a mile long
Coconut palms swayed in the gentle breeze, along the shoreline, grasses rustled, and birds called, and birds to Erin meant life and life meant water, he soon found it small ponds of rainwater held in dips in the hard rocks at the far end of the island. Refreshed, he returned to his original beach, where to his surprise he found the black cloth in the sideboard was not only a nuns habit, it had a nun in it, and she was snoring. What a joy he was not alone, the sideboard laid on its back had been so well constructed as to have behaved like a boat keeping this lady from harm and washing her up here with him, it was good news and his heart began to race. She seemed pretty, was very deeply asleep and try as he would nothing seemed to disturb her.
The cruise ship had been doing its round of islands, delivering stores to the islanders, the cruising passengers just being a financial side-line, he had seen a couple of nuns aboard and had studiously avoided them, probably on route for a mission on one of the bigger islands he supposed, so he had had little contact, preferring the company of the blonde, who he had missed out with yesterday, she looking more likely to be a goer.
He left her too sleep in her wooden den not having the energy to haul her body from her place and instead began to examine the crates he had dragged in, in the night, one, a broken one, had a consignment of bibles and books, another saucepans, and kitchen utensils, sadly nothing edible but the chopper looked as though it may be useful if only to break coconuts, he returned to the puddles filling a small rather battered saucepan, and collecting a nut which was fallen and which after opening with the chopper he began chewing, awaiting his new companion awaking from her slumbers.
A few hours past, he too slumbering, until finally, he heard movement. she was awake if groggy. He helped her from the great coffin of a sideboard, sitting her down and feeding her sips of the water. Then in a most unladylike voice she looked at him and exclaimed, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE-WE!” he laughed, said “was that the way for a lady of such an order to speak?” Which caused her to look down at her habit and blush, He added that “her guess was as good as his, but he hoped she liked coconuts!” he told her he was Erin, and they shook hands rather formally she saying she was” Andrea,” adding hastily, “sister Andrea!” he explained their predicament, and she suggested that they took whatever they could carry, and move it to the dryer sand up clear of any tide, and then assess their position after that. It seemed like a plan, so they began with the side board, the biggest most solid thing and addressed to government house though the rest of the label was missing. She still a bit tottery and complained of her bad headache he put down to the explosive concussion of the mine and the hours at sea. But she was fairly game and between them they managed, resting between short bursts of carrying. Next came the crates five in all, one of kitchen utensils, another of a strange collection of film lighting equipment, another the damaged books, the other two broken but with some bent tins of unlabelled food still in them. Greedily they opened a label-less ring pull tin to find it full of peaches, which they shared, their dry and salty pallets glad of the smooth syrup and the nourishment. They decided not to open more as they had no idea how long they might need to last.
They collected broken wood, obviously from the wreck; a door, his saviour flagpole, odd spars, then using what they had they constructed a scant shelter, as the light faded. Cuddling together from necessity for warmth they passed the cool night rather fitfully, each wrapped in their own thoughts. He respectful of her calling.
The light returned as did the birds, noisily screeching their greetings to the new day. He found her up and writing in the sand in huge letters SOS using a plank to scribe the giant letters. They drank a little more water, dug from the kitchen ware a tin opener, and opened yet another tin, …strawberries this time, fingers their only utensils they swallowed the feast one berry at a time, alternately picking, her first of course… he being forever the gentleman, both making the most of the meagre fare. They explored the tiny atoll, the worlds rubbish was on the rear beach, plastic flotsam, dis guarded crud, the sea unable to break it down dumping the stuff on the little place. His companion dubbing the place dustbin island! Amongst the tatt was a large lump of plastic sheet, which they carefully collected, loads of bubble wrap, and empty plastic drum of once dubious content, and quantities of plastic cups, only fit for burning if they ever managed to start a fire.
Taking the sheet, they walked the beach, occasionally scanning the horizon, hopeful of some ship steaming to their rescue, neither saying much as they plodded along.
There were fish in abundance, birds, scurrying rabbits in the grassy headlands, and flowers, great swathes of red and yellow trumpets that covered the ground in lovely bright colours.
They found themselves back on the beach, the bubble wrap becoming their mattress, the plastic sheet a roof, supported by planks from the long crates.
The sun now at full height while breaking up the lighting crate, Erin realised that amongst the lights was a spotlight, a little work with the chopper soon had the lens out and using the power of the sun and a good book, by using the lens they soon had smoke, then the all-important flame, odd bits of the salt-soaked splinters, the remains of the crate and they had a fire. If they could do it once…
They collected tatt and brushwood, Erin threw stones at a fat rabbit that was silly enough to sit and gawp at these strange humans, never in its short life having seen one before, a lucky shot bumped off the bunny, and with use of the chopper it soon became a meal cooked on a stick over the little fire.
Feeling better the pangs of hunger at bay they sat to decide their next move. they now had a mattress of sorts, a shelter, and frugal food, they could be here days or even months, they had to keep their options open.
Strangely it was Andrea that first came up with the thing about clothes, saying that the bloody habit was hot during the day but handy at night, and that as there was none to see them, and they were beginning to stink anyway maybe nudism was the way to go using the habit as a cover at night when it was cooler.
He said, “as a nun maybe she could feel inhibited, and though he had nothing against nudity, if she was a devoted Christian nun, maybe she would find total nudity worrying?” she began to laugh, laying back down and holding herself, till she ran out of breath, he could not see the joke, and said so, thinking himself to be a thoughtful and caring little castaway!
Slowly she regained her composure, apologised, stood and began unbuttoning the habit, exposing a pair of tiny red lace knickers and a matching ½ cup bra. Her breasts were lush, her waist narrow and her butt, bubble shaped. She said, “do I look like a nun to you?” confused he said she looked very attractive, and she laughed once more, “look Erin, we are stuck here together, we don’t need lies or platitudes there is just you and me, we`ve enough burdens here… I am a cheap actress, my girlfriend and I were engaged to do a porn film on a tatty island, but partly as we couldn’t be bothered with you and your randy mates hitting on us, and partly as that queer bleeder we had as a camera-man had bet us 50 sov`s we couldn’t carry it off, and not turn a trick for the four day voyage that we wore these costumes.
I was asleep, pissed up, hidden in that big old cupboard on deck, it had a label on it so I guess it was for delivery some-place, anyway I was hiding from the cast and the passengers, sleeping off a ½ bottle of whisky I didn’t want to share, when whatever happened, and god alone knows what it was that happened, and the next thing I remember was you dragging me out of the hideaway, and announcing we were shipwrecked…!” she paused then added “ I had a horrible hangover and thought it was all a dream, and what happened to that other door?”
By now Erin`s mouth was wide open, all his fantasies had come true at once, a lady of easy virtue, total privacy, and a lovely shape, what more could a man ask for!
Andrea grinning widely added “You seemed convincing and I thought it better to carry on the disguise, till I saw you were not some sex crazed pillock who was not going to even try to survive, just screw me till we dropped or sell me to some piratical band off this beach, I didn’t realise till later it was an island!!” he still in shock, shook his head but she rumbled on chuckling “though that sex thing has some possibilities, as there`s no radio or pass-times here and your burning those books, perhaps we can come to an accommodation, or an arrangement, sex being my trade, and don’t forget it was you who just assumed, that under the habit was a dried-up old nun if you remember!”
He was stunned and muttered “well dried up you ain`t missy, I got that badly wrong…and I can think of many less attractive folk to be castaway with, so perhaps, just perhaps we can both survive the ordeal!” she smiled and added “and Like, man and wife if you don’t object.”
Object, you jest, our man now sported a very erect penis under his torn and tatty jeans and carnal thoughts were running through his home cinema of a brain like a river, she saw his eyes light up and knew she had unwittingly let go the dam.
He stepped forward and their lips met, both parties knowing that things would never again be the same again!
The kiss was long and lingering, his hands running over her now exposed skin as a c***d would caress a new pet kitten. Hers holding his butt and pulling him towards her possessively.
The embrace had them both breathless, as he shed his clothes, leaving then where they dropped, his erect dick. red and angry eager to find a warm wet location. If she had been 90 and shrivelled it would have made no difference, he was going to have her.
She knew her trade, she had deliberately teased him, and was still, leaving him to remove her clothing himself, knowing the allure. Oh, she had been had from here to Shanghai, taken by countless randy men, sailors, dockers, shopkeepers, they had all paid handsomely, once, but she had begun the long decent, that loss of nobility, the working girls knew as the sag, the difference between 50 sovereigns a night and 50 cents a screw. That something, that edge.
He slid the bra away, her breasts tumbling from the cups to sag towards her belly like spaniels ears, to him they were perfection after the near miss of that blonde and the frustrations of the last few days, he slid down the other whisp of lace, her once shaved pussy a field of fine stubble matching her dark hair, they collapsed to the sand, and he slipped into her with ease, both knowing of the need, the urgency, the a****l instinct that is primaeval man. That first screw was brutal, savage in depth, urgent and most necessary, just as they both knew that it would be, and the orgasm was a high both of them would remember for a long time …if they survived.
The next few days had them spear fishing, hunting for the abundant rabbits, and screwing like there may be no tomorrow. Water though was getting scarce, they had collected what they could in a big saucepan, its lid firmly in place, but without rain…
Under the pile of clothes and the habit, they had laid at night chatting about the past, out in the real world, her erotic reminiscences of past sexual encounters, leading to copulation, then deep restful sleep for each of them, so it became the normal routine. His own tales, less erotic, but more adventurous, would fill a book as he neither had been celibate.
Life was slow, the sky blue, and the rabbits plentiful as were the fish luckily. But by the second weekend, marked off on a crude calendar in the sand, they were getting desperate for water. He had read that salt water sent drinkers batty, so that was out, they tried distilling sea water using a crude boiler but that used too much precious fuel
They were getting desperate when the birds all went quiet, they knew something was happening but other than the sky darkening they had no idea what to expect.
They had laid the heavy and useless lighting machines either side of their little shelter, ballast to keep the plastic sheet in place. Pots and pans were in the cupboard and so was the precious tins what few were left, the shelter was in the lee of a sand bar topped with the red and yellow trumpet flowers, and coconut palms they could see a storm coming, he putting out saucepans to catch as much water as was possible, preying for rain, it had been a near thing, they had nearly had to resort to drinking urine, though they knew that form of recycling would not last long, it might have made the difference. The storm struck, it was hard, the wind tearing and whistling at the palms, howling through the tree tops whining through the undergrowth, the waves crashing onto the beach, and finally rain, precious and wetting rain, so precious that they stood laughing, holding one another the water dripping and splashing from noses, her tits and his prick like the outfall of a winter storm from the gargoyles on the church next to his home. oh, how he wished he was there now, Suffolk, with his beloved companion Andrea, who he was growing to love and respect more each day. Sea birds wheeled and cried above them as she urged him from his reverie, telling him to the collected as much of the precious water as they could, the wind rising to a crescendo then as suddenly as it arrived it was gone
The sun breaking through and the ground steaming, as hand in hand they surveyed their shelter part flattened by the wind, together the walked to the island crest, to check how much damage there was or what usable crud had been washed up that they could use.
Her cry of amazement had them running along the sandy beach, half buried on its side in the sand a small yacht, driven ashore there by the wind, sail still furled and well and truly sunken. A white man`s body was lashed to the tiller, sadly long departed of breath, they cut him free and dragged him from the vessel, the cabin semi submerged, took some digging to free the door, the small but well-furnished cabin, held a barely breathing woman, black as coal, and u*********s, they dragged her from the cabin, collecting as they went the first aid kit, and whatever food there was undamaged, some bedding and joy of joy, damp but restorable pillows and mattresses.
They dragged the woman to the shelter, Andrea caring for her head wounds while Erin Fetched the salvaged stores. Two days saw the woman on her feet if a little silent and dazed, disorientated by shock. The man`s body between them they stripped of useful clothes, oilskins and jumpers and the like, then using a shovel like oar from the yacht, buried him in the headland sand.
The fit couple now had a project, would the yacht be fit to float again if they dug it from its sandy resting place? They either had to try and sail away or right the hulk and use it as a proper shelter either way it was to prove a lot of digging. The woman still not fully with it showed signs of improvement on the third day, and by the end of the next was talking, and coherently at that, her name was Paula, she was 40, originated from Africa, and had been on a round the world cruise with her husband and master. At the mention of his name she asked as to his whereabouts and Andrea was forced to tell her of his passing. Together they visited the grave, strangely Paula grunted some sort of curse at the grave, explaining he had been a shit and had treated her badly beating her just for fun, taking out his frustrations because he was a Jaffa, seedless since birth so good riddance. They began work on the tiny boat, righting it would take a while, but with three of them it was worth a try. They could only work between tides, and a lot of the work would be backfilled by the wave`s but they knew they must try.
Paula asked why they didn’t wear clothing and was shocked when told that as they found it restrictive and simply unnecessary, they had just decided not to, they were enjoying the freedom, both physically and sexually.
She asked if they were married, which they both denied, saying they were “free spirits,” though Andrea said she “would be open to his offers, if they ever left this island,” which had Erin wondering if she could ever be his.
Paula lamenting the loss of what she termed `her bastard dick’ it was “all he was of useful for” she said, then asked, “if they were sleeping together?” a bold question which Andrea answered unashamedly saying they were, in turn Erin, laughingly exclaimed that “he would do his best, but it was one against two, though he had never had a black woman before but it was up to Andrea!” Paula replying that she didn’t want to come between lovers!” but she was reassured by Andrea that, “she was happy to share, it was only sex after all, so to feel free, we are no doubt both women of the world!” Paula stood, and to his delight began to solemnly undress, her clothes spoke of a working housewife, oldish, multi-‘boiled near white underclothing contrasting with her black skin and at about 5 feet 8 tall, and a smile that said she was happy to just be alive and a realistic castaway big of backside, with a scarred back ,no doubt from his whip, a belly round of girth, and with tits that once unfettered, swung free and bounced with every move, and a bush at her sex that said comb me, finger me, take me!.
The woman was a perfect contrast to Andrea, who`s pale skin on arrival now had lost its paleness and its tan lines. Taking on a more weather beaten, all over tan at a fit 5ft 10.
Without any embarrassment she wandered to one side and squatted to piss, something Erin found most erotic for some strange reason. Andrea noting his look and the twitch in his dick. Paula proved to be a wonderful cook, having come from the African coast she produced a meal that evening of shell fish and crab-meat, something till then they had not even considered. They sat watching the sun descend, 3 naked folks enjoying life to the best of their limited abilities, neither woman having jealousy pangs, in itself both wonderful if slightly unusual and a miracle!
Darkness descending as they slipped into bed, the newly dried mattresses a luxury to the original pair, who lay with him in the centre a woman on either arm, king of the castle. A hand in the darkness found his tool, a soft touch but with a strong feel, he knew it would be a black hand, the women having talked amongst themselves earlier, for all he knew drawing lots for him. Wow, he kissed Andrea thanking her for her understanding, then his fingers strayed to a black rubbery teat and the evening developed from there, both women enjoying him, and he them, till sleep took them each away to dream in his or her own way.
Up early once more, he took his tired frame to the boat, slowly the sand under her keel was dug away, by now propped up by a single plank from a crate, soon joined by the women by mid afternoon a huge crater in the soft sand under the propped keel, had the thing ready to stand itself up if it was going too.it was now up to the tide. They laid out an anchor, no sense in losing the thing now was there, If the little ship rolled upright once more.
It was a silver moon, they could not contain themselves, each knew they needed to go and see the boat, had the hard day been worth-while. They need not have worried, floating but with a list to the left the little boat was afloat. It was a miracle.
Paula especially by now was ecstatic, her ship, her own beloved little home that she had come part way round the world with, was once again looking like a proper ship. The name on the stern was “resergam” they all thought it apt.
After a meal next morning they cleaned the ship of sand and pumped the bilges, neither Andrea nor Erin, knew much about boats, Paula taking charge the job, settling on the wet sand between tides, the trio moving the bedding and the stores back during the afternoon. As soon as the tide re-floated her this time on an even keel, she was sailed round the headland to the more sheltered bay there to moor and take on as much water, and rabbits as they could catch.
The rest is history, four days sail got them to civilisation Paula having no charts, simply setting a course and sticking to it till they hit land. when they did sight land they dressed, Andrea in clothes Paula gave her, the British consulate offered to fly Erin home, but he to outwit the red tape, had them marry them first, they were then obliged to fly both of them home. They live now in Suffolk, Paula and her boat continuing her trip homeward, happy and very pregnant.
Each night they go to sleep having had some sort of sex and remembering an islet called dustbin and a yacht called ‘resergam’!
25 minutes later he was clinging to a spar and apparently alone in a very wide-open sea, littered with a few wooden crates, and little else, in a current that had taken him well away from the rescue attempt area! To say he was pissed off was an understatement
What had happened to blondie was anyone`s guess, as was the other couple of dozen silly sods who had paid through the nose for this supposedly exclusive trip, cruise, or whatever you liked to call it. A chance to relax it said leave your cares behind…then bang… and here was he clinging to a lump of crappy spar in the middle of the bloody Caribbean!
He took stock and decided to tie himself to the long spar, some sort of wooden flag-post, just in case he became u*********s once more. He being exhausted, and the warm sun and the motion of the waves soon had him dozing off. He came too tumbling through the small waves of a sandy beach, that pole clumping him on the napper as he and it were tumbled onto the sand. He cursed, then dragged himself up the beach a bit, at last feeling safe from drowning sharks and all sorts of vividly imagined horrors. A few hours passed, then finally he awoke, it was dark, silent and eerie, the warm but fast cooling sand lit by a silvery moon, dodds of wooden crud were littering the beach, no doubt from the loss of the boat, ship or whatever the bloody thing was called, his mind a jumble of thoughts. He stood, then rational thought hit home, he took stock, decided having read Robinson Crusoe as a lad that the wood might make a shelter, so began dragging the crud and crates up the sand clear of the high-water mark. Soon tiring of that, he carried one of the smallest crates up clear of the tideline, then another, deciding the biggest would have to be broken up as it was just too big for him on his own. A second group of wooden artefact`s began to be thrown up from the surf, and he collected what he could, till finally a long oak sideboard tumbled onto the sand, one door missing and with a black lump of cloth d****d over its side and inside the body of the thing.
Who knew what he would need to survive, so he dragged the soggy wooden structure ashore, though by then his strength had been exhausted and he slumped against the old and solid oak piece, to rest for a moment. It was some hours later when he awoke, the sun hot and fierce. He stood stretched and began to take stock, he had bruises, lots of them, his right arm had a long scratch, his legs felt stiff, and his muscles tired from his exertions during the night, but he was at least alive and bloody hungry, he also had a raging thirst. He needed to explore the island or atoll that was not much more than a simple sand bar shaped in a long curve like a banana, perhaps a mile long
Coconut palms swayed in the gentle breeze, along the shoreline, grasses rustled, and birds called, and birds to Erin meant life and life meant water, he soon found it small ponds of rainwater held in dips in the hard rocks at the far end of the island. Refreshed, he returned to his original beach, where to his surprise he found the black cloth in the sideboard was not only a nuns habit, it had a nun in it, and she was snoring. What a joy he was not alone, the sideboard laid on its back had been so well constructed as to have behaved like a boat keeping this lady from harm and washing her up here with him, it was good news and his heart began to race. She seemed pretty, was very deeply asleep and try as he would nothing seemed to disturb her.
The cruise ship had been doing its round of islands, delivering stores to the islanders, the cruising passengers just being a financial side-line, he had seen a couple of nuns aboard and had studiously avoided them, probably on route for a mission on one of the bigger islands he supposed, so he had had little contact, preferring the company of the blonde, who he had missed out with yesterday, she looking more likely to be a goer.
He left her too sleep in her wooden den not having the energy to haul her body from her place and instead began to examine the crates he had dragged in, in the night, one, a broken one, had a consignment of bibles and books, another saucepans, and kitchen utensils, sadly nothing edible but the chopper looked as though it may be useful if only to break coconuts, he returned to the puddles filling a small rather battered saucepan, and collecting a nut which was fallen and which after opening with the chopper he began chewing, awaiting his new companion awaking from her slumbers.
A few hours past, he too slumbering, until finally, he heard movement. she was awake if groggy. He helped her from the great coffin of a sideboard, sitting her down and feeding her sips of the water. Then in a most unladylike voice she looked at him and exclaimed, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE-WE!” he laughed, said “was that the way for a lady of such an order to speak?” Which caused her to look down at her habit and blush, He added that “her guess was as good as his, but he hoped she liked coconuts!” he told her he was Erin, and they shook hands rather formally she saying she was” Andrea,” adding hastily, “sister Andrea!” he explained their predicament, and she suggested that they took whatever they could carry, and move it to the dryer sand up clear of any tide, and then assess their position after that. It seemed like a plan, so they began with the side board, the biggest most solid thing and addressed to government house though the rest of the label was missing. She still a bit tottery and complained of her bad headache he put down to the explosive concussion of the mine and the hours at sea. But she was fairly game and between them they managed, resting between short bursts of carrying. Next came the crates five in all, one of kitchen utensils, another of a strange collection of film lighting equipment, another the damaged books, the other two broken but with some bent tins of unlabelled food still in them. Greedily they opened a label-less ring pull tin to find it full of peaches, which they shared, their dry and salty pallets glad of the smooth syrup and the nourishment. They decided not to open more as they had no idea how long they might need to last.
They collected broken wood, obviously from the wreck; a door, his saviour flagpole, odd spars, then using what they had they constructed a scant shelter, as the light faded. Cuddling together from necessity for warmth they passed the cool night rather fitfully, each wrapped in their own thoughts. He respectful of her calling.
The light returned as did the birds, noisily screeching their greetings to the new day. He found her up and writing in the sand in huge letters SOS using a plank to scribe the giant letters. They drank a little more water, dug from the kitchen ware a tin opener, and opened yet another tin, …strawberries this time, fingers their only utensils they swallowed the feast one berry at a time, alternately picking, her first of course… he being forever the gentleman, both making the most of the meagre fare. They explored the tiny atoll, the worlds rubbish was on the rear beach, plastic flotsam, dis guarded crud, the sea unable to break it down dumping the stuff on the little place. His companion dubbing the place dustbin island! Amongst the tatt was a large lump of plastic sheet, which they carefully collected, loads of bubble wrap, and empty plastic drum of once dubious content, and quantities of plastic cups, only fit for burning if they ever managed to start a fire.
Taking the sheet, they walked the beach, occasionally scanning the horizon, hopeful of some ship steaming to their rescue, neither saying much as they plodded along.
There were fish in abundance, birds, scurrying rabbits in the grassy headlands, and flowers, great swathes of red and yellow trumpets that covered the ground in lovely bright colours.
They found themselves back on the beach, the bubble wrap becoming their mattress, the plastic sheet a roof, supported by planks from the long crates.
The sun now at full height while breaking up the lighting crate, Erin realised that amongst the lights was a spotlight, a little work with the chopper soon had the lens out and using the power of the sun and a good book, by using the lens they soon had smoke, then the all-important flame, odd bits of the salt-soaked splinters, the remains of the crate and they had a fire. If they could do it once…
They collected tatt and brushwood, Erin threw stones at a fat rabbit that was silly enough to sit and gawp at these strange humans, never in its short life having seen one before, a lucky shot bumped off the bunny, and with use of the chopper it soon became a meal cooked on a stick over the little fire.
Feeling better the pangs of hunger at bay they sat to decide their next move. they now had a mattress of sorts, a shelter, and frugal food, they could be here days or even months, they had to keep their options open.
Strangely it was Andrea that first came up with the thing about clothes, saying that the bloody habit was hot during the day but handy at night, and that as there was none to see them, and they were beginning to stink anyway maybe nudism was the way to go using the habit as a cover at night when it was cooler.
He said, “as a nun maybe she could feel inhibited, and though he had nothing against nudity, if she was a devoted Christian nun, maybe she would find total nudity worrying?” she began to laugh, laying back down and holding herself, till she ran out of breath, he could not see the joke, and said so, thinking himself to be a thoughtful and caring little castaway!
Slowly she regained her composure, apologised, stood and began unbuttoning the habit, exposing a pair of tiny red lace knickers and a matching ½ cup bra. Her breasts were lush, her waist narrow and her butt, bubble shaped. She said, “do I look like a nun to you?” confused he said she looked very attractive, and she laughed once more, “look Erin, we are stuck here together, we don’t need lies or platitudes there is just you and me, we`ve enough burdens here… I am a cheap actress, my girlfriend and I were engaged to do a porn film on a tatty island, but partly as we couldn’t be bothered with you and your randy mates hitting on us, and partly as that queer bleeder we had as a camera-man had bet us 50 sov`s we couldn’t carry it off, and not turn a trick for the four day voyage that we wore these costumes.
I was asleep, pissed up, hidden in that big old cupboard on deck, it had a label on it so I guess it was for delivery some-place, anyway I was hiding from the cast and the passengers, sleeping off a ½ bottle of whisky I didn’t want to share, when whatever happened, and god alone knows what it was that happened, and the next thing I remember was you dragging me out of the hideaway, and announcing we were shipwrecked…!” she paused then added “ I had a horrible hangover and thought it was all a dream, and what happened to that other door?”
By now Erin`s mouth was wide open, all his fantasies had come true at once, a lady of easy virtue, total privacy, and a lovely shape, what more could a man ask for!
Andrea grinning widely added “You seemed convincing and I thought it better to carry on the disguise, till I saw you were not some sex crazed pillock who was not going to even try to survive, just screw me till we dropped or sell me to some piratical band off this beach, I didn’t realise till later it was an island!!” he still in shock, shook his head but she rumbled on chuckling “though that sex thing has some possibilities, as there`s no radio or pass-times here and your burning those books, perhaps we can come to an accommodation, or an arrangement, sex being my trade, and don’t forget it was you who just assumed, that under the habit was a dried-up old nun if you remember!”
He was stunned and muttered “well dried up you ain`t missy, I got that badly wrong…and I can think of many less attractive folk to be castaway with, so perhaps, just perhaps we can both survive the ordeal!” she smiled and added “and Like, man and wife if you don’t object.”
Object, you jest, our man now sported a very erect penis under his torn and tatty jeans and carnal thoughts were running through his home cinema of a brain like a river, she saw his eyes light up and knew she had unwittingly let go the dam.
He stepped forward and their lips met, both parties knowing that things would never again be the same again!
The kiss was long and lingering, his hands running over her now exposed skin as a c***d would caress a new pet kitten. Hers holding his butt and pulling him towards her possessively.
The embrace had them both breathless, as he shed his clothes, leaving then where they dropped, his erect dick. red and angry eager to find a warm wet location. If she had been 90 and shrivelled it would have made no difference, he was going to have her.
She knew her trade, she had deliberately teased him, and was still, leaving him to remove her clothing himself, knowing the allure. Oh, she had been had from here to Shanghai, taken by countless randy men, sailors, dockers, shopkeepers, they had all paid handsomely, once, but she had begun the long decent, that loss of nobility, the working girls knew as the sag, the difference between 50 sovereigns a night and 50 cents a screw. That something, that edge.
He slid the bra away, her breasts tumbling from the cups to sag towards her belly like spaniels ears, to him they were perfection after the near miss of that blonde and the frustrations of the last few days, he slid down the other whisp of lace, her once shaved pussy a field of fine stubble matching her dark hair, they collapsed to the sand, and he slipped into her with ease, both knowing of the need, the urgency, the a****l instinct that is primaeval man. That first screw was brutal, savage in depth, urgent and most necessary, just as they both knew that it would be, and the orgasm was a high both of them would remember for a long time …if they survived.
The next few days had them spear fishing, hunting for the abundant rabbits, and screwing like there may be no tomorrow. Water though was getting scarce, they had collected what they could in a big saucepan, its lid firmly in place, but without rain…
Under the pile of clothes and the habit, they had laid at night chatting about the past, out in the real world, her erotic reminiscences of past sexual encounters, leading to copulation, then deep restful sleep for each of them, so it became the normal routine. His own tales, less erotic, but more adventurous, would fill a book as he neither had been celibate.
Life was slow, the sky blue, and the rabbits plentiful as were the fish luckily. But by the second weekend, marked off on a crude calendar in the sand, they were getting desperate for water. He had read that salt water sent drinkers batty, so that was out, they tried distilling sea water using a crude boiler but that used too much precious fuel
They were getting desperate when the birds all went quiet, they knew something was happening but other than the sky darkening they had no idea what to expect.
They had laid the heavy and useless lighting machines either side of their little shelter, ballast to keep the plastic sheet in place. Pots and pans were in the cupboard and so was the precious tins what few were left, the shelter was in the lee of a sand bar topped with the red and yellow trumpet flowers, and coconut palms they could see a storm coming, he putting out saucepans to catch as much water as was possible, preying for rain, it had been a near thing, they had nearly had to resort to drinking urine, though they knew that form of recycling would not last long, it might have made the difference. The storm struck, it was hard, the wind tearing and whistling at the palms, howling through the tree tops whining through the undergrowth, the waves crashing onto the beach, and finally rain, precious and wetting rain, so precious that they stood laughing, holding one another the water dripping and splashing from noses, her tits and his prick like the outfall of a winter storm from the gargoyles on the church next to his home. oh, how he wished he was there now, Suffolk, with his beloved companion Andrea, who he was growing to love and respect more each day. Sea birds wheeled and cried above them as she urged him from his reverie, telling him to the collected as much of the precious water as they could, the wind rising to a crescendo then as suddenly as it arrived it was gone
The sun breaking through and the ground steaming, as hand in hand they surveyed their shelter part flattened by the wind, together the walked to the island crest, to check how much damage there was or what usable crud had been washed up that they could use.
Her cry of amazement had them running along the sandy beach, half buried on its side in the sand a small yacht, driven ashore there by the wind, sail still furled and well and truly sunken. A white man`s body was lashed to the tiller, sadly long departed of breath, they cut him free and dragged him from the vessel, the cabin semi submerged, took some digging to free the door, the small but well-furnished cabin, held a barely breathing woman, black as coal, and u*********s, they dragged her from the cabin, collecting as they went the first aid kit, and whatever food there was undamaged, some bedding and joy of joy, damp but restorable pillows and mattresses.
They dragged the woman to the shelter, Andrea caring for her head wounds while Erin Fetched the salvaged stores. Two days saw the woman on her feet if a little silent and dazed, disorientated by shock. The man`s body between them they stripped of useful clothes, oilskins and jumpers and the like, then using a shovel like oar from the yacht, buried him in the headland sand.
The fit couple now had a project, would the yacht be fit to float again if they dug it from its sandy resting place? They either had to try and sail away or right the hulk and use it as a proper shelter either way it was to prove a lot of digging. The woman still not fully with it showed signs of improvement on the third day, and by the end of the next was talking, and coherently at that, her name was Paula, she was 40, originated from Africa, and had been on a round the world cruise with her husband and master. At the mention of his name she asked as to his whereabouts and Andrea was forced to tell her of his passing. Together they visited the grave, strangely Paula grunted some sort of curse at the grave, explaining he had been a shit and had treated her badly beating her just for fun, taking out his frustrations because he was a Jaffa, seedless since birth so good riddance. They began work on the tiny boat, righting it would take a while, but with three of them it was worth a try. They could only work between tides, and a lot of the work would be backfilled by the wave`s but they knew they must try.
Paula asked why they didn’t wear clothing and was shocked when told that as they found it restrictive and simply unnecessary, they had just decided not to, they were enjoying the freedom, both physically and sexually.
She asked if they were married, which they both denied, saying they were “free spirits,” though Andrea said she “would be open to his offers, if they ever left this island,” which had Erin wondering if she could ever be his.
Paula lamenting the loss of what she termed `her bastard dick’ it was “all he was of useful for” she said, then asked, “if they were sleeping together?” a bold question which Andrea answered unashamedly saying they were, in turn Erin, laughingly exclaimed that “he would do his best, but it was one against two, though he had never had a black woman before but it was up to Andrea!” Paula replying that she didn’t want to come between lovers!” but she was reassured by Andrea that, “she was happy to share, it was only sex after all, so to feel free, we are no doubt both women of the world!” Paula stood, and to his delight began to solemnly undress, her clothes spoke of a working housewife, oldish, multi-‘boiled near white underclothing contrasting with her black skin and at about 5 feet 8 tall, and a smile that said she was happy to just be alive and a realistic castaway big of backside, with a scarred back ,no doubt from his whip, a belly round of girth, and with tits that once unfettered, swung free and bounced with every move, and a bush at her sex that said comb me, finger me, take me!.
The woman was a perfect contrast to Andrea, who`s pale skin on arrival now had lost its paleness and its tan lines. Taking on a more weather beaten, all over tan at a fit 5ft 10.
Without any embarrassment she wandered to one side and squatted to piss, something Erin found most erotic for some strange reason. Andrea noting his look and the twitch in his dick. Paula proved to be a wonderful cook, having come from the African coast she produced a meal that evening of shell fish and crab-meat, something till then they had not even considered. They sat watching the sun descend, 3 naked folks enjoying life to the best of their limited abilities, neither woman having jealousy pangs, in itself both wonderful if slightly unusual and a miracle!
Darkness descending as they slipped into bed, the newly dried mattresses a luxury to the original pair, who lay with him in the centre a woman on either arm, king of the castle. A hand in the darkness found his tool, a soft touch but with a strong feel, he knew it would be a black hand, the women having talked amongst themselves earlier, for all he knew drawing lots for him. Wow, he kissed Andrea thanking her for her understanding, then his fingers strayed to a black rubbery teat and the evening developed from there, both women enjoying him, and he them, till sleep took them each away to dream in his or her own way.
Up early once more, he took his tired frame to the boat, slowly the sand under her keel was dug away, by now propped up by a single plank from a crate, soon joined by the women by mid afternoon a huge crater in the soft sand under the propped keel, had the thing ready to stand itself up if it was going too.it was now up to the tide. They laid out an anchor, no sense in losing the thing now was there, If the little ship rolled upright once more.
It was a silver moon, they could not contain themselves, each knew they needed to go and see the boat, had the hard day been worth-while. They need not have worried, floating but with a list to the left the little boat was afloat. It was a miracle.
Paula especially by now was ecstatic, her ship, her own beloved little home that she had come part way round the world with, was once again looking like a proper ship. The name on the stern was “resergam” they all thought it apt.
After a meal next morning they cleaned the ship of sand and pumped the bilges, neither Andrea nor Erin, knew much about boats, Paula taking charge the job, settling on the wet sand between tides, the trio moving the bedding and the stores back during the afternoon. As soon as the tide re-floated her this time on an even keel, she was sailed round the headland to the more sheltered bay there to moor and take on as much water, and rabbits as they could catch.
The rest is history, four days sail got them to civilisation Paula having no charts, simply setting a course and sticking to it till they hit land. when they did sight land they dressed, Andrea in clothes Paula gave her, the British consulate offered to fly Erin home, but he to outwit the red tape, had them marry them first, they were then obliged to fly both of them home. They live now in Suffolk, Paula and her boat continuing her trip homeward, happy and very pregnant.
Each night they go to sleep having had some sort of sex and remembering an islet called dustbin and a yacht called ‘resergam’!
Geraldine
- 17.05.2022
- 19
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