Thunder Island free porn video

Thunder Island is the most beautiful of the coastals. It’s still beautiful, in spite of now being filled with condos, motels, gigantic mansions and tourists ... it’s classy and scenic and just fabulous. You are a lucky motherfucker if you can afford to live there. The foliage is still thick and rich, with red cedar, oaks, loblolly and longleaf pines everywhere. The businessmen that turned the beauty of the island into money were careful, at least, and much of the natural beauty of the place has been preserved. But ... if you were ever there before ... before even one person lived on it ... then you have a whole other idea of what beauty means. And it doesn’t involve condos, 7-11’s or theme parks.

We lived on the mainland, near Hopper Bay. It was the summer of ‘77. I had just graduated from high school and been roughly pushed out of the nest by my father, a domineering and materialistic businessman. He shook my hand and told me goodbye, letting me know that in twenty years or so he expected to once again shake my hand as an equal, but until then, don’t bother him. I was ready to leave the house anyway and make my way in the world, although I wasn’t nearly as ambitious as he demanded his sons to be.

I lived in a small three-bedroom garage apartment with two other guys. We shared the rent, refrigerator, shampoo and shaving cream, pretty much everything except toothbrushes. And ... oh yeah ... and girlfriends. Girls were pretty rare in our little circle, and they were rarer than ever for me. I was the proverbial ugly duckling (that’s saying a lot for a guy) and it seemed like I’d been doused with girl repellant at a young age. Bad luck? I didn’t have no luck at all. Bad luck would have been a step up.

Anyway, the roots of what happened to me were in the dominant member of our threesome, who let us other two know that he was having a girl over Friday night, and he expected us to be nowhere in sight. I nodded, I’d been thinking of a big hunting/fishing expedition anyway. That would work out just fine, I’d spend a weekend in solitude, fishing with my big pole while he got his little pole waxed. Par for the course, for me.

I zoomed home from work Friday afternoon and gathered up all my gear and dumped it in my faithful steed, a ancient pickup named Guinevere. My roommates helped me wrestle my skiff into the bed, and I was set. I raided the kitchen and hit the road.

It wasn’t even two miles to the coast. I took my truck down to the beach, slid my boat out into the water, transferred everything, and parked my truck. Within minutes I was rowing out into the placid waters of Dog Leg Sound. I knew several islands North of here, and the first one to strike my fancy would be my home for the weekend. I knew this whole area was usually deserted both on-season and off, and I fully expected not to have to see another human for the next two and a half days.

I passed Pistol Point, and went on. Deaver’s Island didn’t appeal to me, I’d been there many times with my dad, carrying his guns and supplies as he hobnobbed and hunted with his business buddies. I wanted a place that wasn’t tainted with his self-proclaimed greatness. I rowed until my arms hurt, now, for some reason anxious to see new territory. I wanted this to be an epic voyage, a trip to remember. Something deep inside me knew that moments like this would happen less and less as I grew older. Like I said, I wanted something to remember.

I found it. I wasn’t sure what it was, until I pulled my map out and looked. Thunder Island, I said out loud. I looked up, half-way expecting a sky-full of dark boiling clouds, but it was a clear day. The island was small, maybe two or three square miles, and long and skinny, as coastal islands tend to be. There we go, I thought. I’d never set foot on the place, but sounded like a good place to spend a few days. A lot of the appeal to me was just that, that I’d never set foot on it.

I pulled in a little inlet, and beached my skiff. I jumped out and dragged it way past the tide line, I didn’t want to be stranded here. I loaded my pistol and put it on my hip, just because I felt like a bad-ass wearing a gun. I loaded my shotgun, also, and hung it by its sling on my back. I chose what I wanted to carry, hid the rest in the undergrowth, and walked into paradise.

You haven’t seen heaven on earth until you’ve been to one of these untouched virgin islands. Of course, I knew I wasn’t the first person here, people had lived on this coast for hundreds of years. But most of these islands were pretty much deserted until recently, until the sixties, I would guess, when people started having leisure time and money to burn. But this place ... it was beautiful, it was just breathtaking. I walked into it maybe a half mile, until I could see water and beach from the ocean side through the trees. I had passed through lush primaeval forest, green meadows and occasional underbrush so thick I had to go around. I came out of the treeline, and walked down to the waters of the Atlantic. I saw a rock spur a few hundred feet down, and went to it, just so I’d have a landmark.

I laid out my prize possession, an insanely long surf rod. I had a shorter one also, and I checked them carefully. I didn’t plan on fishing tonight, I’d do that in the morning. I just wanted to explore the island tonight. I set up my little tent, ate some dry post toasties, and picked up my shotgun. Time to get the lay of the land.

The place was just fabulous. I said primeval up there somewhere ... to this day that’s what I remember about the place ... it was like I’d gone back in time a few million years. It was easy to believe, after spending just a few hours here, it was easy to believe I was the only human in the world. The thought occurred to me that I could move here, build a log cabin, and never be bothered by stupid humans including my dad again. It was a tempting thought.

I found the boat by accident, in spite of how well it was hidden. It was on the landward side of the island, in another little bay north of mine. I was walking the shoreline because the underbrush was so thick, and noticed a straight line in some brush that extended down the beach. I looked closer, and saw a light skiff, two feet shorter than mine, pulled up on the beach. I checked it, it was clean inside, and I knew it wasn’t just salvage. Well, that was interesting. That probably meant I wasn’t alone on the island. That disappointed me, but didn’t really worry me ... the island was big enough for the two of us ... and this was the 70’s ... simple strangers didn’t pucker you up like they do nowdays.

I continued on my exploration. I made it all the way around the top of the island, sometimes traveling by beach and sometimes going inland. I saw deer, wild horses, geese, ducks out the wazoo ... even a glimpse of what I thought was a bear. It was incredible, and the animals were so unused to humans they didn’t even act afraid of me. I was too embarrassed to shoot anything, I felt like an intruder, a feeling I’d often gotten on my dad’s hunting expeditions.

At last, with the sun low in the sky, I came down the seaward side of the island to where I knew my tent was. Not even a mile above my campsite, I found her.

She had done what I’d done, parked her boat on the landward side of the island, and walked across to the ocean side. There, in the dunes, was a tiny green military-looking pup tent, and a campfire burning merrily in the gathering evening wind. A figure sat beside the fire, looking small and withdrawn. At this point I didn’t realize it was a female, I just thought it was a kid or a small person.

I stopped some distance away, and thought. I wasn’t sure I wanted my paradise spoiled by another human, but ... it had happened. It would be only sociable to say hi as I passed, and at least let them know I was there. I didn’t anticipate trouble ... but I had a .45 caliber pistol on my hip if trouble reared its ugly head. I wasn’t too worried.

I continued on down the beach. I saw the moment the person noticed me, I saw them sit up, and turn a pale face towards me. Is that a woman? I asked myself, as realization slowly came. A few hundred feet closer, and I was sure ... yes ... yes it was. Well, that kind of changed the whole situation, and then I wished I’d gone inland and passed her without letting her know I existed. At least for tonight, it might reassure her to think she was alone, I figured she’d find my campsite at some point. It was too late for that. I kept walking, meaning to pass close by her but not intrude, and continue on my way. At a reasonably close range I raised a hand in greeting, and kept on walking. When I was about even with her, she spoke. She wasn’t that loud, and was still a good distance away, but I understood her.

“Hi!” she said. “How are you this evening?”

That was all I needed, that was basically an invitation to stop and talk. And now ... now I was close enough to tell that she wasn’t some weather-beaten old beachcomber crone, she looked ... she looked positively beautiful. I altered my course, trying not to charge directly at her, trying to seem nonthreatening.

“I’m fine,” I managed to stammer, “how are you?”

“Just fine,” she said. “Beautiful evening, huh?”

By now I was maybe thirty feet from her, inbetween her and the ocean. I nodded, and then said “Yes,” loudly. My mind raced for a way to sound intelligent and cultured, not the half-breed hillbilly that I felt like. And ... and damn ... this close, this close I could see that she wasn’t just simply beautiful, she was outstandingly beautiful. Maybe three or four years older than me, she was staggeringly beautiful. She had long dark hair ... and dusky dark skin ... long legs, clad in what looked like bell bottoms, a skinny stomach and two, ahem, two bountiful bosoms, two almost otherworldly beautiful fantastic bosoms, tied up in her shirt and revealing a goodly portion of that skinny stomach I mentioned earlier. The girl was beyond anything I’d ever seen; until that moment I wasn’t really even aware that such gorgeous creatures as this inhabited my world.

What was this girl doing out here, alone? Was she alone? Was her jealous mate approaching from just behind a nearby dune, rifle in hand? If she was mine, I thought ... I’d be the most jealous bastard in the world. She was incredible.

Somewhere up there I said I didn’t have any luck at all. I’d had a girlfriend or two, over the years, but I’d never really fallen hard for a girl. I’d never been with a girl I’d felt anything back from. And, of course, I didn’t feel anything from this one, I’d just met her. But ... damn ... within seconds I was damn deep in love. I realized I would sign my life over, lock stock and barrel, just for a smile from this girl. I expected nothing from it, but I was already in love with her, as I closed the distance between us a a dozen feet and finally stumbled to a halt.

“I thought I was alone on this island!” the girl said, and seemed to be laughing as she said it. Oh, don’t screw this up! I thought. I wasn’t thinking of just my reply to what she’d just said, I meant the whole meeting. I couldn’t imagine her being interested in me other than as a distant neighbor, but I didn’t want her to think I was an idiot.

“Duh...” my mouth said, not having gotten the message. Shit! I thought. “So did I...”

She laughed, almost gaily.

“You live in Sparkton?” she asked. And I shook my head. “Duncan,” I said. “Near Hopper.”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she said, “rich folks...”

I laughed inadvertently, though ... she was kinda right, as my dad’s success proved. Duncan was a fairly large city, surrounded by a dozen tiny towns.

“Well,” she said, “I live in Yanks. I’m just a poor sharecropper’s daughter.”

I couldn’t help it, I giggled and she giggled back. I had this weird feeling, almost a flash, that the ice was broken. But I had to know, I couldn’t stand it.

“You by yourself?” I asked like an idiot, the very thing that a psycho or sex maniac would want to know. Her look became more guarded as I’m sure she realized the risk of admitting she was. I cursed myself mentally for being such a moron.

But, she smiled. She smiled a wide smile and said simply, “Yes!”

“So am I,” I said. “I’m camping down there a few ... I just got set up and have been walking around the island some.”

“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” she asked, and there followed a few minutes conversation about the sheer untouched beauty of the place. She seemed to be as impressed as I was, and every bit as in love with the island. I finally felt like I was comporting myself with some reasonable amount of dignity.

“Hey!” she suddenly said. “I’m fixin’ to fry some sea bass I brought ... would you like to come back in an hour or two for a bite?”

“Uh...” my mind froze again, then thawed. Would I? Would I ever. To spend a few simple minutes in the company of a heavenly creature like this ... hell yeah, I would. I nodded fervently and said “Sure!”

I raced down the beach to my campsite, feverishly thinking. I grabbed the steaks I’d brought, two potatoes, and two bottles of beer. I was too young to buy beer, but one of my room-mate’s older brothers kept us supplied. I remembered about that time she’d said “in an hour” but I was bringing steaks to the table and I hoped she wouldn’t mind if I was early so we could cook them.

I made it back to her camp in record time, almost getting shin splints from walking so fast in the loose sand. I saw her see me coming in the dusky twilight, so I came right up to her fire. She smiled at me, and my heart just melted again.

“I brought some steaks...” I said. “If you wanna...”

“Sure!” she said, in her angel’s voice. “Help me build up the fire! You brought a pan? Good!”

It was dark, when we ate. She didn’t have a lantern and I hadn’t brought mine. The fire was light enough. After we ate, I sat, cross-legged in the sand, and listened to her. Mostly she just chattered about her life ... her job, her family ... the usual. I was happy just to sit and hear the sound of her voice, it ... as goofy as this sounds ... it gave me a closeness to her that was precious to me. Everything she told me about herself I filed away like a small treasure ... I somehow knew that, years from now, long after she was gone forever from my life, I’d pore over these tiny snippets of her life and speculate on them and her. Once again, this was about it for my love life. This was about as good as it got.

She slowed and finally stopped. Then, like she’d just thought of it, she began to ask me about my life. Half an hour later, we were still at it. She was, by now, in her soft low mellifluous voice, asking questions that would have been way too private and intrusive for me to ask her. But it seemed totally natural for her to do it to me. Before I knew it I was spilling my guts to her about my unsatisfying and almost hostile relationship with my father and my feelings of estrangement from my whole family. The girl would have made a great psychiatrist, she drew me out and had me telling her things that I would have been embarrassed to tell even my closest friends. More than once I wondered what her power over me was, but then she would speak again to ask me something else, and I’d be lost again. To sit there, in the dark, seeing just flickers of her face, lit by the wind-blown campfire ... hearing the soft dulcet tones of her voice ... after all these years, that still haunts my dreams.

“I dunno, Charles,” she finally said, laughing. “You are kinda screwed up. I think you’re going to have to come to terms with your father someday ... I’d gently suggest you’re in the grips of some kind of Oedipal thing, except your mother is passed on...” I had no idea at the time what on earth she was talking about, but once again, just hearing the sound of her smooth beautiful voice in my ear was enough. She could have been reciting the alphabet for all I cared. That something of hers was actually entering my body ... that alone was titillating.

“But don’t feel bad!” she continued. “Everybody is a little messed up. I mean ... look at me ... I’m about as messed up as you can get...” That, at least, penetrated my love-besotted consciousness. Her? Messed up? No way ... she was ... she was way too perfect.

“Chuck...” she said, calling me by the nickname I hated more than anything on the planet. From her, though, it was okay. “You probably wonder what ... what I’m doin’ out here on the beach alone, in the middle of nowhere...”

I had wondered that a time or two, now that she mentioned it. But even if she said she was assisting her alien overlords in the enslavement of the human race I wouldn’t have cared. I was that deep in love with her. Yeah, though. I had wondered.

“I got problems, I got big problems...” she said, her voice low, her head down. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and shield her from all her problems. Well, actually I just wanted to feel her warmth and softness in my arms, but it would be a start.

“I got two guys tryin’ to marry me ... and I don’t know what to do...” she said, her voice even softer. “I came out here to think ... we used to come here when I was a kid ... I have lots of happy memories of this place ... and it’s still as beautiful as it used to be. I just came here to be alone, to be alone and think.”

I felt like shit, then. All she’d wanted was to be alone, and I’d spoiled it. I pushed into her paradise and messed it all up.

“Brenda!” I said, standing. “I’m ... I’m sorry ... I was gonna leave in the morning, anyway, the fish aren’t running...”

She broke in, and I could see her eyes gleam with firelight in the darkness. “Chuck, you goof ... siddown ... you’re not goin’ anywhere...”

“No really!” I said. “I was gonna leave. And you need some time alone anyway...”

“That was what I thought,” she said. She reached up and grabbed my hand and pulled me down. I sat clumsily. She went on. “But now I think more than anything I need to talk to someone. Sit, darn it. Sit down and let me tell you the whole story, then you can tell me what you think. I need a guy’s perspective on this, too.”

The next hour was fairly fascinating as she told me the story, with lots of sidetracks and verbal voyages into things that really had little to do with it. I could feel the emotion from her all through it, though, this was stuff that was really bothering her, really tearing her up, and she needed to get it out. As the temperature dropped and the wind picked up she talked, telling me the story of a long loving relationship with a boy she loved who was now a man, a breakup, and the entrance of a wealthy older man who obviously loved and worshiped her, too. Then came the return of her first lover, now older and wiser ... and her torment at not knowing which way to turn. She had shared something powerful with the first guy, and she felt like he’d learned his lesson, but the other guy loved her too ... it was a hard choice. At last she lapsed into silence, and I wondered if she was hoping I would tell her what to do. I gave her a little advice, I’m not sure if I helped her or not or even came close to what she hoped for from me ... but I was really out of my element. Relationship advice was certainly not my forte, given my lack of experience at the time.

“Brenda...” I finally said, my mouth taking advantage of my confusion to sneak some goopy stuff in. “I just know ... I just know if I was either of those guys ... I would grab you and hold you and love you until the end of time. You are the most beautiful, sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”

After saying that I winced. It was true ... but not all thoughts are meant to be shared, especially to someone you just met. She had done something to me that night, though ... she had carefully peeled all my inhibitions and guards away and left me with nothing but raw unashamed honesty. It showed, at the moment.

She just laughed. “Awww, Chuck!” she said. “That’s sweet! Thank you!” I’m sure she was no stranger to random males pledging their undying love to her, she was so beautiful. I figured it happened every day.

“Shit,” she said, surprising me. She sighed and in the dim light I could see her shake her head. I felt for her, at that moment I really felt sorry for her. I wished I could be the one to take her away and make all her problems disappear. I longed to do that, to hold her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.

We sat in silence, lost in our separate worlds. The stars slowly wheeled above us, as the wind picked up even more, a strong breeze from offshore. I thought of and discarded a thousand things to say to her.

“Chuck,” she said, and I jumped at the sound of her voice. “Help me build the fire up. I’m gettin’ cold.”

We lay, our heads pointed towards the fire. We were laying on what felt like a scratchy wool army blanket, and covered by another. At least it was almost toasty beneath the blanket. I was excruciatingly aware of her, just inches away. To my delight, her arm had even momentarily touched me as we arranged the blanket over the top of us. I told my brain that I was laying in the sand with the most beautiful girl in the world until it got tired of me and told me to shut up.

I wondered how to start the talking again. I was hungry just to hear her voice. I had shared things with her, intimate things, to the sound that voice.

I looked up. To the south, clouds were approaching. The starry sky was slowly being covered up. Time passed. We still lay together in silence. I’m sure by now she realized I was as harmless as a doodle bug, I thought to myself. To be this ... almost intimately close to her, and not jump on her ... fate had chosen wisely. I was the right guy for this job.

We both jumped. A bright light seared the sky. My eyes flicked to her face in the illumination from the heavens. I drank in her beauty like a man dying of thirst in the desert. It was so bright and she was so close I could see the tiny pores in her skin. Her eyes were brown, and her pupils were huge from the last few hours of darkness. She wasn’t staring at me, she was still staring up, her mouth open. I turned my eyes upwards in time to see the last few milliseconds of the meteorite. My eyes struggled to adjust, while showing me a ghostly afterglow of the giant streak across the sky.

“That was it!” she said excitedly. “That was the sign! I asked for a sign, and that was it!”

“Wow...” I said, still kind of blown away by the unearthliness of the second-long event.

“Damn!” she said. “It’s that simple! It’s done! Chuck! Now I know!”

“Uh...” I said, my brain still in shock. “You know what?”

“I know what to do now, you dork! I know!”

“Uh...” I said again, trying to set a record. But I wanted to know who the lucky guy was. “Which one? Which one is it, then?”

She was silent. I looked at her. She was still staring at the heavens. Her face shown with almost a Saint Elmo’s Fire glow in the flickering dimness of the firelight. At last her eyes rolled down to meet mine, and then her whole head slowly lowered. A look of almost religious fervor ... or, my wicked brain said, possibly sexual fervor ... anyway, an intense look was on her face. She smiled at me. She opened her mouth.

“Neither,” she said.

I awoke. The sky was light. I was freezing. Dammit, I thought ... it’s almost summer, and I’m freezing. I scooted a little closer against the source of warmth along my left side. With a shock I remembered the night before, and realized the source of warmth was the most beautiful girl in the world. Goddam! I thought. I slept with the most beautiful girl in the world! I was proud of myself. I had done good. I didn’t know what I’d done, apparently just sleep, but I still did good. I slowly and carefully turned my head to look at her.

Asleep, in the sallow morning daylight, there was a vulnerability to her that I wouldn’t have guessed, last night. Then, she had seemed in charge, in command, and powerful. She’d wrenched my life story from me without even trying, not unlike gutting a fish. And she’d made me her willing slave forever. But ... now, asleep ... there was a youthful vulnerability to her that I hadn’t seen before. I wondered again how old she was, but it didn’t really bother me.

Her eyebrows were dark but fine. Her nose was perfect, with the cutest little bump in it. Her eyes slowly moved beneath her lids as she watched something in a dream. A gentle smile was on her fat naturally-red lips. I wondered about the chance of her staying asleep if I gave her a tiny kiss. I wisely decided against it. Her ears were perfect, even Michelangelo couldn’t do an ear as perfect as hers were. I smiled at the tiny holes in the lobes, imagining her grimace as the needle plunged through them. I realized I could no longer see her ear. Her whole head had turned and she was staring at me from eight inches away. Shit, I thought.

“What are you looking at, you goof?” she demanded, laughing.

“You...” I said truthfully. “Just you.”

“Guys are so weird,” she said, sitting up. “Fire, Chuck! Let’s get some fire going! I’m freezing!”

We did a lot, Saturday. We sat and talked, hiked around the island a bit, and sat and talked again. That afternoon I found some tin cans washed up on the beach, and showed her how to shoot my pistol. She squealed every time the gun fired, and we both laughed hysterically. She sat on the beach and watched me fish for an hour as I caught our dinner. The fish were crazy eager to be hooked that weekend. She showed me a few spots she’d visited on the island, as a kid. All in all, it was a fun day. We walked to my camp, and retrieved all my stuff. For some reason, the subject of me going back to a camp of my own or her needing her “alone time” never came up.

That night, we sat beside the large pile of wood we’d gathered, and built the fire up. It was even more chilly that night, and the fire felt good. The weather for the whole day had been a little different than Friday, it was overcast, and cool. I missed the sun. Instead, I basked in the warm glow of her company. And my love was hot. By now I was so deeply in love with the girl I knew I would never get free. She’d been delightful today, a complete angel ... the most perfect girl I’d ever spent time in the company of. She was funny, cheerful, witty and just a delight to be around. I was jealous of the people in her life, that they got to spend time with her. I couldn’t even stand to think of her old boyfriend, the way she’d talked last night they’d been pretty involved when they were younger. All this and more coursed through my fevered brain as I sat next to the fire with her, my knee touching hers.

She was different tonight. I guess the pressure was off. She was bubbly and silly and I loved it. She still called me Chuck, and I treasured the name, now. She called me “dork” and “doofus” and a dozen other names that would have been fighting words if a guy uttered them, but it endeared her to me even more.

As the night drew down she huddled closer and closer. At last our hips and elbows were touching. When the wind rose she finally got up and found one of her blankets, and we huddled beneath it. At last, somehow, she was comfortable ensconced between my legs, and leaning back against me. I summoned every ounce of courage I had, and at last put my arms around her, up at her shoulders. It seemed natural and she didn’t seem to mind. Her voice droned on, hypnotizing me again, telling me of childhood incidents, hopes and dreams, good times and bad, all the things that added up to make her what she was. I still remember a lot of it. I could, I remember thinking at the time, I could spend the rest of my life on this beach, with this girl in my arms, listening to her talk.

She elbowed me. “What?” I said, returning to reality.

“I said, is it gonna rain tomorrow?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s gonna be a perfect weekend.” She laughed. We sat, silent. She sighed and leaned back further. I moved my arms from her shoulders down to her stomach, careful not to intrude on the magnificent private area of her breasts.

“Chuck,” she said softly.

“What?” I said softly.

“Thank you for listening to me. This was the right choice, to come here. I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“I’m glad, too.”

“You’ve helped me, and you’re very nice. I knew that when I saw you. I knew you were a nice guy.”

“Well,” I said. “I left my mask and machete at home, just this once.”

She giggled. “And funny. You’re funny. Hardly anybody in my life now is funny. They are just interested in making money and being successful and all that.”

“Yeah, it seems like the whole world is goin’ that way,” I said. I thought of my dad, and with a shock realized it was literally the first time in the whole day I’d wasted even a second remembering he existed.

“Well, anyway ... thanks,” she said. “You’ve been great. I had more fun today than I’ve had in years.”

“Yeah,” I said. “So did I. So did I.”

By now the possibility was occurring to me that maybe, just maybe ... maybe this could go somewhere. Me? This girl might like a guy like me? That was a load of crap, although ... what she’d just said sounded pretty positive. I hugged her tightly, pulling her against my body, feeling like I could get away with it. I could. Her head turned slowly. Like Linda Blair, a recent crush of mine, her head almost turned all the way around. Well, a quarter of the way. She leaned into me, and, to my complete shock, I realized she was trying to kiss me. I almost smashed into her mouth, pinching myself painfully against her front tooth, and our lips met for a brief instant. My heart was vibrating, it was going so fast, and I felt like cold water had been poured down my back. A girl, I was kissing a girl. And not just any girl, the most beautiful girl in the world.