“A Gift from Jackie”
Chapter 16
I awoke with a smile. Moments later, so did my brides. By the dawn outside, we had slept for several hours. As soon as we had finished our round of kisses, Shelly brought in some food. I was more satisfied than I had ever been in my life.
“What time is it?” I asked Shelly once I had dug in to the food.
“About 6am. You guys were a sight to see last night.”
Cindy chuckled. “It was even better to feel. I couldn’t even begin to explain it. I can’t imagine what would have happened if we’d gone more than twice.”
Shelly laughed. “Twice? You girls had more like fifty each. It was almost constant. And Josh came at least ten times.”
My wives and I exchanged glances. “I see,” said Cindy. “Glad we got it on video, nice as it was last night I kind of would like to see the raunchy bits.”
The knowledge that our bodies had been busy while we were off in our dreamland explained the fact that I was not aroused in the slightest, despite being around the three stocking-clad girls. We were all covered in sweat and other fluids, so we headed back to the big bedroom for a group shower. The shower seemed to bring the life back in to me, and in true honeymoon style I had all three of my wives under the warm falling water.
The pace of the next week was much like my first honeymoon with Cindy, only with three times the demand on me. We lounged, slept, ate, soaked, swam, and walked on the beach. Repeatedly I was woken up at night. Waves were made in the pool. The hot tub needed to be drained. The indentations in the sand told a lustful tale. And I was shocked that I was able to keep up with it all, but my seven-inch warrior continued to rise to the occasion. I think I was beginning to draw on their seemingly never-ending libidos.
After the seven days, we spent six nights alternating couples for solo pairings – two nights for each combination. We stayed apart on those days, each of us enjoying some alone time with each spouse. On the last day of the second week, we met one more time all together, and experienced another out-of-body experience, only slightly less intense than the wedding day one.
The next day we met the plane back to Jamaica, where Connie, Shelly, Nicole, and Angela were vacationing. We were to spend three more days there with them before returning to the states. As my brides told the tales of the honeymoon, my cell phone rang.
The girls all looked on as I nodded solemnly. I hung up without saying a word, and they looked at me expectantly.
“Yes?” They asked in unison. It was rather cute.
“That was Carl. He’s found Mr. A.”
They all gasped. “It’s going to be dangerous,” said Jackie.
“Yeah, I’m worried for you,” pouted Cindy.
“Don’t you worry,” I said, feeding the clip into the P90 and sliding it in to my underarm holster, “I can take care of myself.”
Our jet was back in Texas ferrying its proper owner’s wife around, so I chartered a high-end Cessna jet, which would get me there even faster. The charter company had the jet ready surprisingly quickly, and before I knew it I was over the Atlantic on my way to Australia.
I watched the ocean pass by far below. I’d only been overseas a few times and never this far south. We came over cloud cover and I laid the seat back, dozing of for a nap.
I awoke as I heard voices. The pilot was arguing with the co-pilot.
“What do you mean you don’t know? The thing didn’t reset itself! Jesus, are you on drugs or something?”
I sat up, alarmed, and probed their minds in order to better understand the situation. No sooner had I realized what was happening than it was too late to do anything about it. The telltale sound of a suppressed gunshot rang from the cockpit. The co-pilot stood and emerged from the cabin door.
The expression on his face was one of shock as the pistol was pulled from his grip, turned in mid-air, and landed neatly in my waiting hand. He backed against the bulkhead, staring at me in fear.
“Shit, he was right,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one. Now get back in there and put us back on course.”
He started to turn and I didn’t see him reach in to his jacket pocket. He turned to face me, holding a small plastic box with a button on it in his hand. He pushed the button and a small red light began to flash.
“He told me this will protect me,” he said, “and you don’t want to shoot me, because you need me to land the pla..”
His diplomatic words were cut short as the device in his hands exploded. I watched as if in slow motion as his body was ripped apart, and the cabin windows exploded and then imploded. I was thrown to the back of the plane, and for an immeasurable time there was nothing – maybe I passed out. Then, the world returned and I wished for nothing to return.
“Shit,” I tried to say.
My entire body felt broken. A huge weight pressed down on me. I could not see or hear anything. I tasted blood, felt a mouthful of teeth. I could not move, and I was only dimly aware of my chest moving as I took a few ragged breaths of air that was choked with acrid smoke. I knew I was about to die. In desperation, I probed out with my mind – but nothing came, no help was near. Suddenly I felt my mind catch on something. I moved towards it, feeling its shape, its power. I felt my body move. I opened my eyes.
Before me was the smoldering wreck of the jet. Looking at the twisted metal in front of me I couldn’t imagine that anything had survived – yet I had. There was no sign of either the pilot or the traitorous co-pilot. Looking down at my body, I could see that my clothes and skin were dirty and covered in blood, but my body was only slightly sore. I felt my teeth with my tongue – they were perfectly intact. Leaving any further inquiry for the moment, I looked around at the smoky jungle. I poked around in the wreck for a few minutes, gathering a few things, and then moved uphill through the jungle.
I made my way through the jungle as best I could, and a few hours later I reached the highest point of what looked to be the mountain in the middle of a smallish island. The mid-morning sun illuminated a terrain dominated by green jungle canopy and framed by crashing surf. The crashing plane had created a long gash in the dense canopy, and the fire continued to smolder, covering several acres of jungle in a haze of smoke. A small stream made its way down the east side of the mountain. I was thirsty, so I made my way towards it.
It took a while, but I found a nice clear pool in the stream. There were little fishes in it. I took a long drink and then stripped my clothes and slipped in to the cold water. I washed off my clothes and hung them to dry. I laid back and listened to the forest. After a while, my pants were fairly dry, so I put them on again.
As I looked up from fastening my pants, I found myself face-to-face with a grinning dark-skinned man wearing fuzzy yellow running shorts. I reeled back slightly, and then zeroed in on his mind. I touched it, tried to find my way in – but it was completely closed to me. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Hallo, Meister,” he said, offering me his hand. Somewhat confused, I shook his hand. He had a nice firm grip. “Folgen sie mir zum dorf.”
German, I realized. He turned and walked from the clearing, and I followed him as he made his way effortlessly along the stream. A few hundred yards down we came to a waterfall. We climbed down a crude wooden ladder and came to a well-worn stone-edged dirt path. At the base of the waterfall was another pool, this one much deeper.
“Für hygiene trinken wir von diesem,” he remarked as we passed, gesturing to a carved wooden trough flowing with water. A stack of tin drinking cups was next to the trough. “Wir schwimmen nicht oben hier.”
As we moved down the path again we came to a clearing where ropes were strung and a few items of clothing hung to dry. It was an odd assortment – mens’ dress shirts, more running shorts in different colors, and several t-shirts with Japanese writing on the front. We kept moving, passing by several small vegetable gardens, some goats in a pen, and what looked like a greenhouse covered with patches of mismatched and repaired plastic.
Then we reached what looked to be a small village. There were a few dozen huts, mostly built of poles and covered with thatch, and also several smallish houses of more modern construction, utilizing rocks, rough lumber, and rusty sheet metal. I saw none of the residents – the homes were all empty or closed. A few of the more sturdy looking ones had fires burning from rock chimneys.
We reached a clearing in the center of the village and I stood in the spot that my guide indicated for me. As soon as I was in position, the villagers began to file in from one direction. I noticed right away that not all of them shared the dark skin color of my guide. In fact, I could identify a dozen different ethnicities in the growing crowd. They all stood two-deep in a circle around me. I estimated that there were 40 of them. The clothing was the same odd assortment that I had seen out to dry. I could enter none of their minds. They all stood at attention around me, and then one of them stepped forward.
“You speak English, correct?” The speaker was a middle-aged man with brown skin and African features. His accent was clearly German.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Excellent. I hope you understand me, I have had nobody to practice with since the last Speaker died. I am the Speaker, my job is to help you to speak. This is the Scout,” he gestured to my guide, “he did his job well in finding you so quickly. This Island is called Vergessen. Forgotten, you would say in English. This is Das Dorf, The Village.”
He paused for just long enough that I wondered if I was supposed to say something.
“Come,” he continued, “you must be hungry.” He gestured and I followed him. The crowd parted to let us through and then dispersed. We entered one of the rock houses. On the table was a plate set for me with fruit and goat meat. I dug in eagerly. When I finished, I looked back to Speaker, patiently waiting.
“I know you are concerned that your family will worry for your safety. In three weeks’ time, a boat will come. Until then, there is nothing you can do. Now, for your test,” he said, leading me back into the village. We entered the center clearing again and this time there were even more people waiting. Their excited discussion died off as I approached. There was a moment’s pause and then two lines of women walked in from either side of the village. There were 17 of them, ranging from age 15 to 50, of every skin color under the sun. They all wore worn but elegant clothes, and their faces were adorned with makeup. They formed a circle around me.
“For your first test, you must identify the woman who has been gifted for you by the Vorhersage.”
I raised my eyebrow but turned around the circle, looking at the women. Each one tried to catch my eye, smiling, winking, and blowing kisses. Each one seemed to genuinely want to be picked. I closed my eyes, trying to gather any clues from their minds, but none were forthcoming. I opened my eyes again.
“She is not here,” I said confidently.
Speaker nodded and smiled. I walked past the women and through the onlookers to the village. Going on intuition, I found myself at the door of a well-built small stone house at the edge of the village. I parted the curtains covering the doorway, finding only darkness within. Moving forward into the dark, I found another curtain just beyond. Inside, it was pitch black. My eye saw only imagined details. I could hear breathing, slightly heavy, ahead of me. I moved forward, feeling with my hands and feet.
Moving by ear, I came to stand directly over the source of the breathing. I could smell the scent of fresh female skin adorned with the slightest fragrance of flowers. I could hear her hands move over her dress, smoothing it. I leaned down close to the sweet scent of her breath emerging from her lips. Gently our lips met. I was surprised by the moistness of them. They felt very full and smooth. We pressed our lips together and then rubbed them back and forth against each other. I felt her tongue tentatively slip out against my mouth and so I responded gently in kind. Within a few minutes we were probing each other’s tongues enthusiastically, joined only at the mouth. When she pulled back to take a breath, I shifted the caress of my lips to her cheek, then slid down to brush her earlobe, the sensation making her gasp, revealing a hint at the sound of her voice. I reached up and touched her hair, feeling its softness and running my hands through its length.
As I kissed and nibbled her neck, I let my hand move towards her, and it finally made contact with the skin of her leg. It was warm under my hand as I gently caressed her shin, and the heat grew more intense as I allowed my touch to drift up and under the hem of her dress. The dress was made of silk and she wore several old-fashioned petticoats, the fine cotton of which I navigated slowly. My lips drifted down her neck and mapped circles around her chest, finally reaching the top of her breasts. Kissing and rubbing my face against the exposed flesh of her cleavage and the front of the dress I guessed that her breasts were a healthy B-cup. The cups supporting her breasts were quite stiff, and I could not feel her nipples through them.
I felt her hands on me, then, pulling off my suit jacket. I remembered the pistol on the holster under my arm, and I removed it so that she could continue with my shirt. I kissed her and she fumbled with my buttons for a while, removing my white dress shirt and then my undershirt. She planted a string of kisses on my chest before unbuckling my pants and sliding them down. Soon my boxers followed suit, and she studiously avoided touching my penis as it jumped free. She leaned back on the bed, and I took the hint to begin undressing her.
For a long time, my fingers roamed over her dress, trying to find a way to remove it from her body. I stopped every so often to kiss her lips or a newly admired part of her skin. Eventually I untied the dress and pulled it up and over her head, leaving her covered only by what felt like a corset of heavy layered material. The corset was laced to the panties she wore, which were made of a similar material. In the dark, it felt like a maze of cords kept me from her soft body. I ran my hands over them, tracing the path of the string as it snaked its way back and forth through the loops in the fabric, trying to find the end of the string. Finally I did, but my fingers traced over the bends and twists of some kind of bizarre knot.
After tracing with my fingers for a few moments, I reached with my mind and followed the shape of the knot, visualizing it in my mind. I realized that there was a simple way to untie the knot, but that I could not reach it with my fingers. Giving a slight tug with my mind, I pulled the knot open. As the cord slackened, I continued to pull it free with my mind, quickly releasing the corset and then the panties. She gasped as she felt her hot flesh exposed to the air. I slid off the corset and then the panties, and my let my hands roam over her fully nude body. My sense of touch was heightened by the darkness, and her skin felt positively amazing. I caressed the curves of her hips, then lifted her breasts, touching her tiny nipples. Her nipples hardened between my fingers, and I felt her breathing become uneven and her legs open wide, beckoning my hands downward.
I moved up to kiss her again, my hard cock pressed against her leg, and my hand felt the soft patch of hair on her pubic mound. I slowly trailed down the junction of her thigh, teasing against her pubic mound, grazing against her labia, then back up the other side, occasionally allowing a scant brush along the skin near her clitoris. She was panting so hard I could barely kiss her by the time I let my finger flick down over her clit and along her swollen slit. She yelped in pleasure when I touched her love button, and I gently pushed my finger against her moist vagina. I began working up and down her labia, flicking against her clit and then dipping back down to her vagina, slowly helping her inner lips to part. After several minutes, I realized why my progress was slower than it might have been – my fingertip pressed against her intact hymen.
I hesitated a moment, and she drew me in to her kiss, communicating without words her desire to eliminate that final barrier to her womanhood. I continued to gently toy with her virgin pussy, feeling her wetness grow even more as I moved down to suck and nibble on her breasts. Her hips pushed up against my teasing fingers, her breath was fast and intense. Sensing that the time was right, I crawled on top of her, gently pushing the head of my cock against her drippy opening. Sliding it up and down to moisten it in her steamy pool of moisture, I pushed it forward to meet her hymen. Leaning forward again, I kissed her passionately, and her muscles tensed as my steady, gentle pressure caused her barrier to open to me. I held still just inside her newly opened vagina. After a minute her muscles began to relax, and once she was ready she pushed her hips up towards me, encouraging me to push further inside her.
I moved back slightly before pushing inward again. Her vagina was tight around its first visitor, and it opened to me gradually as I pushed back and forth, slowly moving ever deeper. I sensed that she was tender, so I continued to be gentle as she adjusted to me. Within a few minutes, her mind was relaxed again and she began to respond to the pleasure she was receiving. I continued to take my time, only many minutes later feeling the head of my cock press against her cervix just as I felt my entire length within her warm vagina. She moved back and forth, pressing the top of her vagina down against my shaft. I pulled back, and in the dark I could clearly hear the sticky sound of her pussy gripping on to my cock. Pressing down again slowly, I started a steady procession in and out of her soft, slick love pocket.
We kissed once more, and I caressed her breasts again, feeling that her nipples had impossibly grown harder still in the cool air. My hands roamed all over her skin as it grew moist from the sweat of arousal and exertion. The motion of her hips as she moved to meet my thrusts became my obsession. Now she was moaning again, announcing verbally the rhythm of our thrusting. I heard her mumble in German, and then I heard her melodious voice clearly for the first time as she spoke words whose meaning needed no translation. She encouraged me, guided me with her body to push her to new heights. There was no awkwardness, our bodies met cleanly, perfectly. There was nothing and nobody else in the world but us, together as one. Once time had dissolved and we became lost in the flow of pleasure, her first lovemaking experience became perfect and complete as her building pleasure erupted with mine, and together we let our voices open up, moaning and gasping in two different languages, yet still perfectly in harmony. Still joined, we slept.