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Of all the people in the world, I probably would’ve chosen any little group besides the people from the office to get marooned with. They weren’t bad people, just annoying ones.

Will, Frank, and Jeff were all brothers; that was a mistake right there. You shouldn’t work with family, at least not if you’re gonna spend all day arguing over football and whose turn it was to pick up mom. The problem was, all three of the brothers were bulky football players themselves, so nobody’d ever had the balls to tell them to shut up. I guess you could say it was lucky that we’d never pissed them off, though, now that we were stranded here. The rest of us weren’t exactly Sylvester Stallone.

One guy was named Sylvester, though. The girls considered him tall, dark, and handsome, and he was the company pilot–as of today. Some job he’d done. His little Cessna looked like it was gonna fall apart in the parking lot, but the fact that he’d managed to land it in the parking lot without hitting any cars made us feel a little better. I guess he thought showing off was more important than filling up the gas.

The boss, Rick, died in the crash. Nobody cried. Jeff took his wallet.

There wasn’t much for eye candy, either. Charlotte was thin, but her chest was flat, and she died her hair bright colors and dressed up like anime characters. She didn’t wear the costumes to work, but she kept the hair. It was just too weird for me, although I guess Will liked it.

Then there was the fat secretary, Maribel. I wouldn’t say it like that, but Charlotte told me Maribel fantasizes about me. Apparently those two are friends; Maribel always complained to me about how Charlotte was trying to get her to die her hair, but she liked it black.

There was a black chick, too–Tia–she was hot, but she got killed too. The rest of us just jumped out and ran when the plane hit the ground; she tried to see if Rick was still alive, and that’s when the plane blew up.

There was one pearl left among the gravel: Stacy. She was a bit of a Barbie, true, but come on. They make them that way for a reason. And she liked me, too. We usually flirted at work. We were both single, but I guess I was kinda wrapped up in the job, and I didn’t want to seem desperate. Well, we were all desperate now.

Stranded on an uncharted island? Seriously? Okay, well, we didn’t really know if it was “uncharted” or not, but there was definitely nobody there–we waited all day by the crash site, and nobody came to investigate–so we figured it was better to find shelter and stuff than wait around for boats or planes that weren’t coming.

We were lucky to find a stream pretty close to the wrecked plane. We drank our fill, and then decided to split up and search the island, meeting back at the stream. The sun was getting ready to set, so we needed to cover a lot of ground, but it was obviously a dangerous plan, so we agreed to go in pairs. Stacy wanted to go with me. I was a little surprised, but happy about it.

“I’ll feel safer with you, Mark,” she said. The three brothers chortled at this, thinking–rightly enough–that I wouldn’t be much help against wild animals compared to them, but I didn’t care what they thought. Stacy was coming with me.

* * *

The further we went into the jungle, the more I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at the clichéd nature of it. A tropical island. Uninhabited, presumably uncharted. We were survivors of a plane crash, doomed to finish our lives here, away from all we’d known. This didn’t happen in real life. At every turn, I was half-expecting Gilligan to jump out at us and shout, “You’re on Candid Camera!” My references were a bit outdated, but so was this cliché. Besides, I was hungry and tired, not used to this kind of exercise, and the humidity made it feel like I was walking through pudding. I almost was, too, with the mud.

Stacy seemed in better shape than me–I guess she must’ve had to work out to maintain that figure–but she clearly wasn’t used to the outdoors. Still, there wasn’t much either of us could do but trudge on.

The stream, as it turned out, hadn’t been a mere lucky break: the island was full of them. We passed three more in the first hour. And as a result, the plant life flourished–including banana, coconut, mango, and even lemon trees. They were sure to be full of seeds and not as shiny as the ones in the supermarket, but at least the two most basic necessities would be easy to fulfill. That made our primary goal finding shelter.

I didn’t like the idea of a cave–after all, something else would probably already be living in it, and the mossy jungle floor would probably be more comfortable–but after three hours, now stumbling around in only starlight, I was beginning to understand that, clichéd or not, this really was a life-threatening situation. Stacy had been clinging to my arm since the sun set, even though that made it harder to tread through the jungle, and we were both relieved to find the convenient little cavern. I didn’t even roll my eyes at it, not wanting to provoke it into turning out Şanlıurfa Escort to be a mirage.

I threw rocks inside repeatedly until Stacy told me to get going, there was obviously nothing in there. This fortunately proved to be true–there were bugs, but those were everywhere, and we didn’t find anything big like a bear or smaller like a snake. The cave was in the side of a big rock formation; it was above ground level, the floor being rock too, which meant it would be as uncomfortable as I’d predicted, but at least we would be kind of elevated in case it rained.

“I guess we’ll have to meet up with the others tomorrow,” I said.

“You should make a fire,” said Stacy.

“I dunno how.”

“Weren’t you ever a boy scout or anything?”


She sighed, and looked for a place to sit down. It wasn’t that big of a cave, but the floor was uneven, and she found a sort of protrusion to use as a chair. Or more of a stool. I just sat down where I was. Even without a fire, the tropical climate kept us relatively warm. I started to think that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Food, water, warmth, and now a cave. Not high-class living, but we were no longer in immediate danger.

* * *

It turned out to be impossible to tell which stream we had intended to meet the others at, and after realizing this, we turned around and made sure we could find our way back to the cave. We waited to see if any of them would find us there, but nobody showed up. We ate fruit and drank from the nearest stream, now fearful of venturing too far from the cave. After a week passed, however, I had grown familiar with the surrounding area.

I wanted to explore further, but Stacy remained afraid of leaving. She frequently complained about the cave, but clung to it as her home. I suggested that I go out scouting alone, but she didn’t want me to leave her by herself. Eventually, however, she allowed it, growing ever more frustrated with her imprisonment on the island.

So I habitually explored more of the jungle around the cave, slowly increasing my mental map of the island. I still couldn’t figure out which stream would lead back to the plane crash, though, and I never saw any of the others.

For me, time began flying by, as I was constantly engaged in either seeking out new parts of the jungle or collecting food from the more familiar parts. Stacy always stayed behind, and continually grew more irritable. I suggested she accompany me on my hikes, but she would just give me nasty looks.

I probably just wasn’t used to having to remember the lay of the land like this–well, I know I wasn’t–but it seemed to be quite a big island, or at least, I never found my way to the beach. I was sure now, though, that it really was uninhabited–I hadn’t seen a single piece of garbage anywhere. Maybe I would find some stuff on the beach washed up by the sea, but in the jungle, there were no signs of people.

There were animals, of course, and some of them were dangerous–I got chased by wild boars a couple times–but there didn’t seem to be any big predators like bears or tigers or whatever. Nothing that would really eat humans. Not live ones, anyway–there were vultures to pick off the dead, but the rest of the birds were small and colorful.

Being marooned had seemed a grim and clichéd situation in the beginning, but I was starting to feel settled in and enjoying the tropical atmosphere and exercise. If I gathered enough food for two days, then I could take the next day off and just lie around. I missed TV and being able to shower, but really, my job had been hell, and this was the vacation that I deserved. Funny how that had worked out–company flight and all.

Stacy didn’t agree with me. She wanted off this damn island, but she remained too scared of getting eaten to go very far from the cave, and when she finally accepted that I was telling the truth about not having seen any sign of native people or the others, she didn’t speak for a couple days. Oh well, I thought, she’d come around eventually.

* * *

Unfortunately, I started finding it hard to maintain my positive attitude. It wasn’t just Stacy’s griping, either. Our clothes got more tattered every day, and seeing her half-naked, I started having trouble controlling my sex drive. Stacy may have been interested in me before, but she was clearly not “in the mood” while stuck in the cave, and with each passing week, though I knew I should’ve been more mature, I found it harder not to pine for the day her libido would catch up to mine. I started constructing elaborate fantasies about how it would take place, and during my daily expeditions, I couldn’t help making covert use of a banana peel once in a while.

I don’t know how much time passed, but it must’ve been a lot. The island seemed to go by the “rainy season vs. dry season” cycle instead of the four-fold one I was accustomed to, but the rainy season came and went, so I guess it was more than half a year. Stacy was still grumpy, and I was still horny–more so because by now we’d Şanlıurfa Escort Bayan discarded the shreds of our clothes completely. I was also mad at myself that I was letting something like this ruin what I’d been enjoying before.

Then one morning when I woke up, Stacy asked me, “Hey, Mark, do you wanna fuck me?”

“Uh–what?” I asked, trying vainly to hide my morning erection.

“Look,” she said, “I guess we’re stuck here. And even if we’re living in a cave, we’re still living together. So we might as well make it official. The thing is, if we ever do get off this island, people are gonna talk. This way, nobody can call me a slut.”

“Uh . . . what?” I asked again.

“Here’s what you do,” she continued. “Go out in the jungle and find something pretty to propose to me with. Then we can consummate the marriage. That way, it’s on my terms. I’m sure you wanna fuck me anyway, huh?”

“Uh . . . y . . . yeah . . .” I said sheepishly.

“Well, go find me something nice,” she said.

This was certainly not how I’d imagined it would happen. And she was still thinking about getting off the island? Oh well; it was still what I’d been waiting for.

My heart was pounding when I entered the jungle. The anticipation was already killer, and it hadn’t been five minutes. I didn’t know what kind of object she wanted–something shiny, I guessed. I tried to clear my head for the task. If I brought something she didn’t like, she might change her mind.

It took me two hours, but I finally found a glittery rock in one of the streams. Actually, it looked like gold, and since nobody’d been on the island, it could have been, but I didn’t know how to be sure. Anyway, it would probably do. It took another half hour to get back to the cave.

But Stacy wasn’t there. I went inside, and it was empty; this was a bad sign. Even when she went outside, she always stayed within sight of the cave. I would have to go look for her, but I had no idea where to start. I looked for footprints, but after we’d been living there so long, they were all over. I picked a random direction and went back into the jungle, leaving the gold rock in the cave.

Needless to say, my sexual side was cursing everything, and it probably fueled my efforts more than my concern for Stacy’s safety, I’m embarrassed to admit. I pushed through the jungle angrily, but found nothing for an hour. I stopped by a stream to drink and try to calm myself down; I sat still, and eventually my breathing slowed. The jungle hummed quietly around me.

After about fifteen minutes, I heard some rustling nearby–it sounded like something coming my way. I shifted slightly, ready to get up, but waited to see what it was.

Downstream, someone emerged from the trees–a person–not just a person, a woman. It wasn’t Stacy: having stayed in the cave so much, she’d remained recognizably white; this woman’s skin was tanned. I almost mistook her for Stacy, though, because she was also naked, and her figure surprisingly resembled Stacy’s. But everything else was different: darker skin, black hair, and a slouched posture and apparent lack of grooming efforts, her hair was long, wild, and full of leaves. She also carried a spear in her hand.

So there were native people living on the island. I couldn’t believe it–where were they all this time? Why didn’t they come to see the crash? I guess it just frightened them off. I was frozen in place, mesmerized.

The native woman looked to her right, then her left–and saw me. She, too, froze and stared fixatedly. She seemed not to know what to make of me.

Well, again, I knew I should’ve been more mature, but my dick stiffened painfully. What’s more, the native woman noticed–she stared down at it, her eyes growing even wider. I didn’t know what to do.

She turned toward me, tossed her spear aside, kneeled down, and began rubbing her own breasts rather vigorously at the sight of my cock. That settled it–we were both feeling the same thing. But I had to find Stacy. And boy, would she be mad if I fucked some native chick instead of her, after she’d finally offered. I had to get out of there.

But I couldn’t move. She was dirty, hairy, and smelly, but so was I, and she clearly didn’t care. And her body . . . She had to be a native: she didn’t have a bit of fat on her, just toned muscles, but her breasts must have been D-cups like Stacy’s. How could there be such a perfect woman running around here in the mud?

I found myself on my knees too, stroking my dick, and at that, the woman got up and scrambled over to me, falling to her knees again when she got there and taking my cock in her own hand. She fondled it as though trying to make sure it was real. Then she grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands onto her breasts.

I almost came then and there. They actually seemed even bigger than Stacy’s, but apart from the fact that whatever undiscovered tribe she was from had obviously not yet advanced to the point of plastic surgery, I could tell they were real. How could she have Escort Şanlıurfa such wonderfully vast breasts on such a slim, muscle-toned body? Oh, who gave a damn? They were mine now.

I pulled one into my mouth and sucked her nipple; the woman let out such a growl of satisfaction that it might’ve come from a gorilla. Then another thought occurred to me. I pulled my head back, then thrust it forward and motorboated her bosom. She laughed loudly, but again in satisfaction. Most city girls wouldn’t have let me get away with that, but she found it amusing.

She looked down at my rock-hard dick, and turned around, leaning forward onto her hands and thrusting up her ass, presenting me with her pussy. This animalistic posture must have been the only one her tribe knew, she arranged herself so readily into it. Well, it worked for me.

I guided my cock into her pussy, then grabbed her thighs; she pushed back, forcing me deep into her. She was tight–so tight. But clearly not a virgin. She started thrusting before me, and I eagerly picked up on her rhythm, my heart beating like a tribal drum.

As we coupled by the jungle stream, I didn’t know what to think, but I knew I was more turned on than I had ever been. We were just like the wild animals who made the island home–we had never seen each other before, but we had recognized our mutual needs, and here we were, furiously fucking each other in the middle of the jungle. Would we ever see each other again after this? God, I hoped so.

I drove my iron piston into her over and over again with as much force as I had in my body, and she received each thrust with relish, growling more and more, louder and louder, again like a wild animal. I guess she was one, but I’d become one now too–I’d gone feral with lust, and apparently my passion was enough to gratify a true wild woman.

But I was a year or so out of practice, and my wild desperation didn’t help: my orgasm hit me like a plane crash, and I unloaded my cargo into her in enormous bursts. She made no effort to avoid taking in my seed, but thrashed harder in attempt to complete her own passion before my dick receded. It seemed, however, that she was unsuccessful, and she growled, this time in frustration.

She moved away from me, and I collapsed onto my own hands; I had never come so hard before. I couldn’t see straight for a moment, but I looked up to see if she was still there.

She stood in her hunched posture, panting. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it; I did the same: I wanted to say something, but I knew she wouldn’t understand me anyway. Instead, I slowly reached up and picked a leaf out of her hair.

She blushed a little at this, and looked away. We both caught our breath again after a while, and she looked back at me. This time, her eyes seemed much more human.

Then she moved back toward me, and slowly pushed me onto the ground. She lowered her head to my crotch and took my floppy dick into her mouth. So they did know about other kinds of sex, it seemed. But it was too soon; my cock hadn’t regained its enthusiasm yet.

She sucked on it anyway, almost absent-mindedly. I sat up a little and put my fingers in her hair; I tried to run them through, but it was too tangled. I’d always liked silky hair that you can run your fingers through, but I guess you can’t have everything, and she certainly hadn’t needed it to make me cum.

As my heart pounded, my dick regained its first spark of vigor. Noticing, the native woman sucked more energetically, and soon I was hard again. She removed her mouth and looked me in the eyes, as though thinking.

I motioned for her to climb on top of me. She squealed a little at the thought, and prepared to mount me. I motioned for her to turn around and mount me backwards, which she also picked up on right away. This time, I would last longer.

We guided my sword into her sheath together, and she began slowly rising and falling along my length. I was reminded of how tight she felt. We began moving together in a slightly faster rhythm, seemingly in harmony with the sounds of nature around us. She clearly wanted me just as I wanted her; maybe we could live together on the island, and indulge in these mutually adored activities every day.

I arched my head backwards in pleasure, and from that position, with the native woman on top of me, I saw Stacy, looking down at me from some distance away in the trees in utter disgust. I looked into her hating eyes, and in that instant I realized that, really, I’d never liked her, I’d just wanted to fuck her. All the flirting back in the office, all of that was part of the complicated social process required to achieve mating in the civilized world. But looking her over now, she didn’t seem nearly as attractive as my animalistic mate. She now really looked to me like a Barbie: fake, plastic; a stereotype of beauty that excludes such wondrous possibilities as my native woman. And I knew for a fact that her boobs were fake, whereas now my girl had real ones of the same caliber. Plus, having stayed in the cave instead of exploring with me, Stacy had grown a Buddha belly, while my wild woman’s physique was sculpted to perfection by nature. I knew who I wanted, so I looked away from Stacy and pounded my cock up into my jungle girl. I could hear Stacy running away through the trees.

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