by Kira Blakely
I’ve never understood the appeal of group sex, yet here I am, on a sex island for billionaires.
I suck my lower lip into my mouth, suddenly doubting myself, and wrap my fingers around my crucifix.
What would Mom and Dad say if they could see me now?
“Probably nothing,” I grumble to myself bitterly, angry that I’m worried about what they might think after the terrible childhood I received from them.
My only solace was church in those days. I tried to create myself a second family out of preachers and kids at Sunday school. But even they went away over time, leaving me to fend for myself.
I was twelve by the time the state picked me up and placed me with foster parents, and twelve is way too late to fix anything. My foster parents were emotionally abusive perfectionists, anyway, and I gave up on finding that family element I so desperately needed. That I still need.
Last night was the first time in a long time that I felt truly accepted somewhere, especially when he laid me down in that bed. I felt precious to him. Not just a woman. Not just a pussy. Not even just a gift. But someone he really wants...
“Because he had sex with you?” I ask myself aloud. “Wake up, Rose.”
I know what men are like. That’s why I kept my virginity to myself for so long.
I pass more anonymous sex on the beach but I don’t look at it closely. I don’t want anyone to think I’m interested. It only exacerbates this feeling I have. Nothing here matters. It’s all just sex.
I’m not ready to go back to Stuart’s villa yet, I realize. I’m not ready to face him, and that giant erection lurking under the sheets.
This morning, I was ready to gobble that thing down, and why? Have I been totally brainwashed by Mystique Island already? Is there horny gas in the air? Maybe a sexy chemical in all the food and water? I don’t know but I don’t like it. I want to feel like myself again. I don’t know who this wild woman is.
I climb onto an outcropping not far from the villa and receive a solid view of the debauchery on the beach—at eight in the morning, these animals.
I settle and cross my legs, taking a deep breath to think about who I am and what I’m doing here. Who I want to be, and what I want to happen next. Last night is already done. I lost my virginity to someone I barely know who invited me directly to this sex island. But I don’t have to stay if I don’t want to.
Do I want to?
I’m still torn on whether I should stay when the villa door behind me swings open and Stuart himself comes sauntering out, no mask, wearing white linen pants and no shirt. My eyes absorb his powerful thighs and chiseled torso, then make their way up to those sparkling gray eyes, which are always so delighted to see me.
I sigh. I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what I feel, other than different. And sore.
“Hey, Stuart,” I say, lacing my arms around my knees and pulling them close, as if shielding my body from him.
He nods up to me. “Mind if I join you?”
“I suppose not.”
His brow furrows and he settles himself onto the rock beside me. “I woke up and you were gone. I was worried.”
“Well, I’m still here,” I tell him. “I just don’t know if I want to stay. I feel silly for coming.”
“What?” He tilts his head and glares at me. “We both came. A lot. You shouldn’t feel silly for that.”
“No, coming here,” I explain with a little smile.
I wish I didn’t want him so badly. This never would’ve happened if I’d been able to resist the offer but it was the last chance I’d ever have, and I had to take it. “It’s not really me. I’m not like this. I’m not wild. I don’t party.”
Across the distant beach, more and more masked visitors arrive, some strolling nude, others in island attire. But almost none of them are uninvolved in a sex act. Even the ones who look uninvolved are probably being voyeurs, like me and Stuart right now, I guess.
“None of us are really like this,” Stuart says, rubbing my back. I lean into it, comforted by his touch. “This is a vacation. The real world isn’t like this.”
“Last night, you tied me up and put your dick inside me before you ever even kissed me,” I say, even though I liked it a lot at the time. Now, I’m insulted. It wasn’t romantic at all!
“But you liked it,” Stuart purrs, and I blush.
I guess that’s true. Stuart leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. “I could have put any woman in the world on that Wish List, and I put you.” He runs his fingers through my hair and kisses me once more, deep and wet now, with nothing gentle about it, then pulls away again. He’s winded by it and so am I. “I know I didn’t kiss you. Maybe I should have. I was so excited... And I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you here, Rose. That’s why I asked for you. You were the only person I needed here.”
I crinkle my nose. “You’re not going to go down to the beach and masturbate on some three-way or something?” I have to ask. “You’re not going to ask me to go down on you while you go down on some other girl at the same time?”
“Damn straight,” Stuart says. “Rose, I know you. You might not think so but I do. I wouldn’t do that to you. I know what you want—and I can give it to you.”
“You can?” I whisper. I blink up at him and purse my lips, so certain that it can’t ever be true. That’s just not my life. I wasn’t fated to ever be happy like that. Satisfied. Loved.
“Of course I can. You’re the only one, Rose. Don’t be scared.” His palm runs down the smooth skin of my thigh, then his other hand, presses my knees open and exposes the crotch of my panties.
He strokes over the damp fabric at the apex of my thighs. I don’t know how I got so wet so fast.
He leans close and whispers against my ear, “I know what you want.” His breath stirs my hair and I shudder. His finger strokes harder over my button, still covered, and I grind against his finger, forgetting the beach. “And I can give it to you.”
Chapter Seven
Stuart
Rose’s thighs drape apart for me like I knew they would. Her head falls back and she closes her eyes, ready to take all that I have to give her.
I work over her nub through the cotton, feeling how it soaks and sops against the fabric, and then I snap and expose her to the sunlight in one deft motion. Her panties tangle around my fist and end up somewhere in the sand down below. It doesn’t matter. All I care about is feeling her smooth, wet pussy against my hard, rough fingers. They’re such a perfect combination.
I think we might have been made for each other.
“Do you feel better now?” I ask, staying close to her ear, enjoying the way she wilts against me when I excite the little nerve endings on her neck and right behind her earlobe.
“Yes,” she groans, bucking against my hand. She places her own palms behind her for balance as she grinds forward. “Yes, I feel better.”
I flick my fingers over her nub again and again, sending her eyeballs rolling way back in her head, and I’m seriously thinking about burying my head between her legs and eating her out on this big rock, right in front of the villa, too. Fuck it, right? This is Mystique Island.
“Oh, yeah,” Rose moans as she nears orgasm.
I slip two fingers inside of her and feel her muscles twist around my fingers, begging for my cock. I can almost hear her pussy calling to him, like they’re soulmates... and I want to do everything with her. I want to eat her out. I want to fuck her. But right now, I’m just going to make her explode. Then we can worry about me.
I pump her hard with two fingers, pressing my thumb against her clit to really drive all the sensation home. She shudders and calls out to me like she needs help. “It’s too much,” she begs, eyes still squeezed shut. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”
“Baby girl, I’m not going to help you,” I tell her, only driving harder into that airtight snatch. “I’m the one doing it to you.”
“Ohhh,” she cries out, and her slick, cl
ear juice pours from between her legs, squirting down onto the rock. My eyes follow it, enjoying the sight, the physical evidence of her pleasure... and then they fall onto some asshole in a mask, standing in front of our rock, watching.
Well, not just watching.
He’s also got a huge boner he’s trying to polish off right now.
I scowl down at him, even though it’s probably my fault for loudly fingering her on top of a giant rock on a trail. I don’t mean to but as I’m glaring at this guy, trying to decide how best to oust him from our area, Rose starts coming down from her powerful orgasm and straightening her back. Her eyes open. And there Mr. Happy is, wanking away.
Rose doesn’t have as controlled or contemplative of an approach as I do.
She flings her hands up to her mouth and screams bloody murder.
To his credit, Mr. Happy seems genuinely confused and kind of offended. He shakes his head at us and scowls. “What?” he asks, and stops squeezing down on his member. “Why are you out-fucking-side if you’re not exhibitionists?”
“He has a point, baby,” I gently inform Rose, collecting her from the rock and helping her down. Her eyes bulge at the interloper.
“What a man and a woman do in the privacy of their own—rock—is no one’s business!” Rose insists and marches back into the villa.
I watch her go, deflating, then turn back to Mr. Happy. “Sorry about that. We weren’t thinking. She’s new.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she doesn’t belong here,” he suggests, going down the trail toward the beach. “You know what this place is. Either invite big girls, or don’t come.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him. “She’s an adult, and we’re all adults here, so take a little rejection worth a grain of salt, will you? You startled her. That kind of thing happens all the time and you know it.”
Mr. Happy keeps marching. I guess I would be upset if I were him, too. He probably thought he was going to get the chance to stick it inside her but fuck that. Not on my watch.
I linger for a few minutes, take in this moment. I don’t want Rose to feel uncomfortable. I want her to understand she’s safe here with me. That she can relax.
I head back into the villa and find Rose stepping out of the shower, hair twisted up in a towel and a bathrobe on.
“You don’t need to cover up for me,” I tell her, tugging playfully at the robe. “It’s just us in here.”
“I think I need a little space,” Rose tells me, placing out an open palm to me, like she’s going to block an advance.
I furrow my brow and remove my hand from her bathrobe. “You’ve got it. Are you okay, though?”
“I was just... startled.” She shakes her head and gives up an intense little shudder, too. “So weird. But I guess it’s my fault for coming to a sex party.”
“You didn’t—” My scowl deepens. “You didn’t come to a sex party. You’ve never been to a sex party. Those are here, yes, but you came on my Wish List. You came directly to me and only for me. We were the ones who lost track of ourselves and started getting off right on a hiking trail, Rose. We were asking for it. Something like that could have happened back in America.”
“I guess.” Rose looks at me and shakes her head. “But I got ahead of myself when I came here. I know that now.”
I take a deep breath and reconsider arguing with the girl. I don’t want to make her more upset and scare her away from Mystique.
“All right,” I say, “I see what you’re saying, and I respect that. I need to visit a friend of mine... He’s actually the owner of the island. I want to ask him for some advice. I’ll be right back. And you’ll stay right here, won’t you?”
Rose twists her mouth from side to side. “Are you going to stop and masturbate at anyone? I’ve heard that’s the thing to do around here.”
“No,” I assure her, “and you’ve got to relax, Rose. Being here doesn’t mean you have to be anything. Just be yourself. Relax.” I sweep my palms toward her, like I’m soothing her energy myself, and I almost remind her that we only have one more night and one more day here before it’s all over. But I don’t. I don’t know if that would comfort her or not. What do you do when your guest is freaked out? “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” she says, and I go. I need to talk to somebody, and I think I know just the guy. He knows more about this island than anyone else.
Chapter Eight
Rose
I stare out the window of the villa like I’m not allowed to go outside anymore. I know the beach is out there, and all that dirty sex... They’ve probably got sand in all kinds of holes. I give my head a tiny shake and pace. At first, I don’t even realize it but then it dawns on me: I’m waiting for Stuart to return from visiting with his friend. I’m afraid to go outside without him.
I do my mask and a gauzy cardigan, something which might tell passerby that I’m off-limits, and head out onto the beach. I’m not going to be scared of people having sex. I’m not going to be literally trapped in my own comfort zone and house.
The beach isn’t some orgy, for the most part. If you look for it, you can find it. But it isn’t like a mosh pit of naked people or anything, and I’m almost disheartened by how comfortable I feel as I cross the beach. Maybe it was all in my head. Was it me? Was all my anxiety and my reaction to that masturbating man just me?
Up ahead, playing in the surf, I see a naked woman with no mask on. I think I might recognize her. The thick auburn hair looks thinner and darker because it’s soaked but I recognize the smile and the natural confidence, not to mention those killer curves.
It’s Cheryl, the same woman who delivered my invitation and all but convinced me to come here. I consider warning her about the dangers of skinny-dipping in the ocean, which is filled with bacteria, but bite my tongue as I approach. No one wants to hang out with that person.
“Cheryl!” I call, waving to her.
She comes frolicking from the waves like a wild horse, completely unaware of how her tits bounce. They’re even bigger than they looked when she was dressed.
“Hey,” she returns, smiling in welcome at me. “It’s... Rose, right?”
“That’s me,” I confirm. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Are you kidding?” Cheryl gives an amused guffaw. “It’s Christmas! I couldn’t miss it. I love it here.”
“Really?”
Cheryl tilts her head at me and examines me with new interest, perhaps realizing something. “You don’t?”
“It’s just so sexual.”
Cheryl throws back her head and laughs so loudly at me, I look over my shoulder to see if anyone is staring or even laughing with her. Luckily for me, they’re all too busy having sex to notice the two girls talking at the shoreline, even if one of them is naked with huge tits.
“Do you wanna take a walk?” Cheryl asks, already beginning her stroll on the wet sand. I admire her beauty as she moves. No tan lines on this one. She must be footloose and fancy free. I can only imagine how it might feel to sunbathe nude.
“Is ‘taking a walk’ sexy code for anything?”
“Oh, my god, you’re too much.” Cheryl stops, shakes her head, and waves me forward. “Come on, girl.”
We walk for a few more yards.
“You’re not having fun here, I guess?” Cheryl asks brightly.
“Yeah,” I answer, trying to match her tone. “Well, no,” I amend. I think about it some more. “I don’t know. It’s strange.”
“First years always say that,” Cheryl agrees. “It is strange, compared to whatever city you’re from. Whatever real life you have. This is a vacation, babe. You’re not supposed to do what you would normally do, or else you’d probably be at work right now.”
“It’s so kinky, and I don’t know how I feel about it, you know?”
“All you’ve done is have sex with one man who you adore, right? And he requested you. Just you. So you know he wants you, too.”
“Yeah, but... we didn’t do it the right way.”
Cheryl stops dead in her tracks and twists to face me, folding her arms over her chest. “All right, let’s have it,” she says. “What’s the right way?”
“He should have... you know.”
“Bought you a milkshake and given you his school pin?”
“No!” Heat throngs up into my cheeks. “But something. We should’ve dated first, at least.”
“Would you have waited to have sex until marriage, then? If he’d taken you to dinner and a movie every weekend for, I don’t know, two years?”
I imagine how it feels to touch Stuart’s body, how it feels when his tongue invades my mouth. I think about how fast his fingers find my button, how my knees go weak. How even being in the same room with him would drench my panties and drive me to masturbate.
“There’s no way we would have waited,” I say, and a huge burden evaporates from my chest. It’s not me. It’s not the island. It’s just... us. We’re uncontrollable. He’s my personal weakness.
“There you go, then,” Cheryl says. “Stop beating yourself up. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
I take a deep breath and glance in the direction of Stuart’s villa. I should calm down. I even drove him off with my anxiety attack.
“I wish I knew what was going to happen next... I feel so stupid.” I laugh breathlessly and turn back to face Cheryl. “I just didn’t want to give up my virginity to someone who was not my husband. Or at least my fiancé.”
“Well, that is on you,” Cheryl tells me. I guess all her advice isn’t designed to necessarily make me feel better. “But I can say that, as far as loyalty and trust go, girl, marriage is overrated, just like dating. Invest in people. They’re the ones who aren’t overrated. But that little certificate is a piece of paper. People walk all over it.”