Morton's Island Ch. 01

"You mean me?"

"I do. Did you enjoy the week?"

"Wasn't it obvious?"

"Maybe. But I would like to hear you say it."

"Yes. I did enjoy it. Very much. I didn't think I would, but there goes another prejudice."

"Prejudice?"

Jane told him about the boyfriend and the 'threesome'.

"But if you think about it, we didn't do a threesome did we. It was either you and me, or me and the girls. They just took over the 'training'. Now I know you had some kind of -- er -- personal involvement in that," Morton said, with a twinkle in his eye.

"What, you have eyes in the back of your head?"

"Ears, my dear. And after all, you did not have to stay in the room. It was your choice. This suite covers practically an acre."

There was a pause before Jane said,

"Yes! Ok, Morton. Damn your eyes! You're right again. At first it was curiosity, perhaps even concern. Such young girls."

"Bet that evaporated quickly."

"It did indeed. They were obviously very experienced."

"Indeed. Splendid girls, didn't you think?"

"I can only say Yes! And Yes, I did find it erotic, watching."

"And....?"

"Well.... Ok. Occasionally."

Morton said nothing to that. But there was a twinkle in his eye that Jane recognized. Not much got past this weird man, she thought.

After a pause, Morton said,

"You know, I think they have a quite different tradition over here -- from in England I mean. Sex is so much more natural, more integrated into their lives. Don't you think?"

"I suppose it must be," Jane said cautiously. She was thinking of the lecture she'd received from Madam Sharapova.

"I mean, it seems to me -- now recall I'm a novice at this -- that in England people are all hung up on this 'love' stuff and 'monogamy'."

"I wouldn't call it a hang-up," Jane said, even more cautiously.

"Well maybe not. A different way of being, perhaps. But you know, we did try the monogamy route and it didn't work."

"You mean," Jane said, "you did not reach your goal."

"Yes, Yes! Of course, in England one would probably say it 'worked'. We enjoyed very much our time together. But then I suppose most Englishmen do not share my passion. They do not see sexual pleasure as an art form, that fills one's life, just as a painter's passion for his art does."

Jane wanted to say 'But even painters do other things than paint, like sex, for instance! They do not spend their entire time on their art.' But she didn't. Instead she said,

"Morton, I think something is brewing. You have something to tell me. I can sense it."

"Ah! You are so perceptive, Jane."

"Well I do know you a bit," Jane replied. "And I'm sure you have made some plans. That fertile imagination of yours has not been hibernating."

"Caught out," Morton said, almost with a guffaw. "Can you guess what my 'fertile imagination' has come up with? Our next experiment?"

"I have not the slightest clue," Jane said. "But I'm quite sure you would not have let the girls go that cheerily if you did not have some scheme in mind. Where is it this time, Japan?"

Morton stared at her.

"D'you know, I hadn't thought of that. What a good idea. They do have a remarkable tradition in Japan. Bit formal, though, Geisha's and all that."

"For you, certainly. So what is it, Morton. Come on, tell me. Where do we go from here?"

"Ah! Well that's the first thing we need to clarify. When you hear what I have in mind, you may feel differently about the 'we'."

"D'you mean there's no place for me in your plan?" Jane said, in a tone of mock mortification. She knew it would not be so. The only question would be whether it was a place she wanted to be at.

"Oh no! Not at all. Au contraire! However, you have a choice to make."

"You said that last time."

"Indeed I did. But this time, you may really need to think about it."

"I can't do that, Morton, until you tell me what it is."

Morton did.

'OhMiGod!' Jane said to herself. 'I really do need to think about this!'

Chapter 7

The sun sank slowly over the horizon. As it died, leaving a sky tinged with every shade of vermillion, six figures emerged from the recesses behind the fringe of palms lining the beach. Their nubile bodies stood out, pure white against the dark background of the jungle. Wordlessly, the girls settled one by one into six cradles lined with palm leaves, each girl lying back in her shell like a Venus. Their thighs parted, arms rested gently on the edges of the shells, feet planted in the still warm sand. All were still, the only sound; the night chorus of the cicadas.

A solitary figure appeared from the jungle. Even in the last remnants of the twilight, his bronzed, muscled torso imposed. Likewise his penis, which stood proudly erect. The man approached the line of shells, feasting his eyes on the pale figures gleaming up at him, twelve small breasts with dark, stiff nipples, twelve long legs, spread wide, six pink roses, full, ripe.

The man stood for a long while. Twelve eyes smiled up at him, anticipation in each one. He moved to the left end of the row, stroked succulent thighs, fondled resilient breasts, brushed firm, dark nipples that stood out against the milk-white background. He bent and brushed lips in a gentle kiss, then moved on.

Reaching the end of the line, he returned to the first Venus, knelt soundlessly in the sand and lowered his head. To the sound of the cicadas was added now a soft, low moan, which grew to occasional Ohs!, Ahs! The body of the young woman began to move, her hands clasped the sides of the shell, her groin pushed upwards. Her thighs began to shake. Quietly, she enjoyed her first orgasm of the night.

The man rose, leaned over her, placed hands on grips set into the shell. A sharp intake of breath as penis entered vagina, to the hilt. His groin pressed on hers, then began to move. Slow first, then faster, driving her into the bed of palm leaves. She began to gasp, her body to writhe, her limbs to wrap around the man, willing yet further exertion. The man maintained a steady rhythm, his penis sliding in and out of a vagina so wet it offered almost no resistance. Her groin pressed upwards, urgently. Soft cries, a sucking in and out of air, nails clawed, dug.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!

The girl celebrated her second orgasm less quietly than the first.

The man remained still, embedded in her, until the contractions of her vaginal walls abated, her limbs had ceased to shake and she, too, was still. Only then did he withdraw. Brief eye-contact. A smile of mutual appreciation. Then to the next in line. Two more orgasms, on to the next, two more --- in all twelve.

When the last girl in line was finally still, the man withdrew and retraced his steps, bending and kissing briefly each of the six, embedded in her cocoon of palm leaves.

It was deepest night now, but not dark. The moon had risen, the stars were bright. The man stood, his penis still proudly erect, then turned and walked to the water's edge, where he lay on his back on the soft sand, wavelets caressing his feet. Six bodies appeared, three on each side, the whiteness of them enhanced in the moonlight so they looked like sirens from another world, tall, slender, perfectly proportioned.

The man bathed his eyes in the sight. A siren from his right approached, knelt and without effort lowered herself onto his penis. She sat upright, rocking gently to and fro. Then less gently, raising and lowering herself so her groin pressed onto his. Her breathing became irregular, her head went back, the urgency of her desire propelled her forwards, her hands on the man's chest, her groin moving fast, her vagina sliding up and down over the penis, faster, faster. Her body grew tense, her thrusts wild. A groan announced her orgasm. She collapsed, prone on the man's body.

After a long while, the siren rolled off the man's body into the sand.

A second siren took her place.....

Twice around went the six, twelve more orgasms, and still the man's penis stood, as he now did. The sirens formed a line at the water's edge, looking out to sea, striated as the moon caught the tip of wavelets. The first in line bent over, her legs splayed, bracing herself to receive the man's thrusts as his penis pleasured her from behind, exploring her vagina from a different angle as his testicles, tight in their scrotum, stimulated her clit on every thrust. It did not take her long for her to come.

Nor the next in line, and also not the next. Twice along the line, one orgasm followed the other.....

The sirens now lay in the sand forming the arms of a hexagon, gleaming white. The man straddled one, his balls presented to her willing mouth, tongue and teeth, while he used his own to pleasure the next arm of the hexagon, lapping expertly at drenched pussy lips, sucking clit hood into his mouth and releasing, flicking clit tip, bringing this siren to the brink, then holding her there until her body writhed in anticipation. He raised himself and moved to lie on her, sliding his penis into her, enjoying her almost instant orgasm, but continuing a slow steady motion, in to the hilt, out to the tip, until vaginal contractions began again, betraying the onset of another orgasm.

Around the hexagon the man went, pleasuring each siren in turn, drinking in the sighs of contentment ........

Dawn was approaching. The man embraced each siren in turn, stroked her back, her breasts, her flat stomach, kissed her lightly, then released her to race down to the sea and splash into the waves.

For a while, the man watched contentedly as ghostly forms cavorted amongst the waves. Then he turned and walked away along the beach. He did not walk very far.

"I hope you saved some for me," a sultry voice came from the waters edge, a body bronzed so thoroughly it blended with the sand.

"Not much," the man sighed resignedly. "That was a struggle. Be gentle with me."

"Certainly not," Jane said, emphatically, grabbing his penis and dragging him by it into the sand beside her.

Morton tried to hold on but failed. Uttering an expletive, he resigned himself as his penis released pints of semen up into her the moment she mounted him, driving his butt into the sand in her desire. But his penis was so used to being erect, it remained so as the bronzed torso, long blonde hair bleached by the sun, rode him hard........

The sun was warm on their bodies when, arm in arm, they strolled up the beach and into the jungle.

Of the sirens there was no sign. Sirens come only at night.

Chapter 8

When Morton told Jane he was going to buy an island, she thought at first that he was joking. But only fleetingly. Morton was not given much to humor. He explained his plans and, of course, gave her the option. That she was highly dubious goes without saying. A life of sex, more sex and yet more with Morton in opulent hotel rooms, with luxurious bathrooms and exquisite room service was one thing. An island? Why this?

"It's just something I'd like to try," he said, lightly, as though buying an entire island was like nipping down to Harrods for a pair of shoes.

"But why?"

"The freedom," he'd replied, "to do as I like. To do as we like, if you're game. These hotels are all well and good, but I've come to feel a bit ... furtive, I suppose is the best word. Anyway, what I have in mind can't be done in a hotel room. Not anywhere."

"But .... But....?"

"But what?"

"Won't it be rather primitive. I mean, I understand the 'back to nature' thing. Lots of people talk about it, but the ones I know who tried it rapidly noticed the lack of creature comforts."

"Oh, none of that. I've researched it very thoroughly. Of course, the island will be in the tropics. Lots of sun. Easy to build a solar farm to provide every comfort we desire. In fact, that's integral to the plan."

"But.... but...?"

"What now?"

"Food. What will we eat?"

"Oh, no need to worry about that. The Island folk have a very well developed cuisine. Healthy, too. Of course, we'll have a full time cook. And fresh provisions boated in every week."

Jane thought a bit.

"But what will we do?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Morton replied, in puzzled tone. "Sex, of course."

"All the time?"

"Yes! Well, we'll eat and sleep, too. And I suppose we can take some time to paddle about in the sea."

Jane was silent.

"You don't have to decide right now," Morton said. "It will take a while to set everything up. But I'd really like it if you'd join me. You know me so well by now, you'd be the perfect person to do the selection."

"Selection!?"

"Yes! The girls."

"What girls?"

"We'll need girls, Jane. We've established that. Well I do. You know, like Neda and Nina."

"And how do you propose to arrange that?"

"Neda and Nina will handle the recruiting. I've already spoken to them about it. They don't see a problem. If you'd agree, you'll do the vetting, you know, make sure whoever we choose is suitable."

"And what does that mean? Suitable?"

"You know my taste. I think six should be enough."

"Six!"

"Well, in case one or two turn out to be duds."

In the end Jane had acquiesced. Not without misgivings, but she'd come to trust Morton. He delivered. And after all, she could leave whenever she wanted to. Why not give it a try?

Six months had gone by, five on the island. Morton had moved with typical efficiency. The island was bought, uninhabited of course, part of an island chain whose society was matriarchal. The boat visited once a week bringing provisions and transporting the girls as they arrived and departed.

The solar farm was quickly built and Morton was true to his word. Creature comforts were not lacking. The girls all had laptops and were able to pursue their studies as though back home, wherever that was.

And cook? Jane had never eaten so well, or healthier.

Vetting the girls was no problem once the rules were established. Of course, a girl could always claim she orgasmed readily, and not do so. There'd been a few who'd tried to fake it. But they were quickly disposed of and Neda and Nina seemed to have no trouble locating willing applicants.

A routine was rapidly established, though some of the girls chafed at having to stay out of the sun. But they knew the rules. Pearl white, or off the island.

Jane, of course, was allowed all the sun she could take, which in the initial months had been a minor problem, but was no longer. Her body, bronzed, her hair bleached, her muscles toned from endless hours of sex plus swimming in the waves, she had never felt so healthy, nor enjoyed life more.

The routine involved sleeping through the heat of the day, but before and after, orgasm after orgasm. She'd thought she'd tire of it, but had not.

"I'm addicted to sex," she thought to herself. "What will I do if this ends?"

Which, of course, in her innermost thoughts she knew it must. But this thought she suppressed. Carpe diem.

As for Morton, he struggled mightily at the beginning. Having sex with six girls throughout the night, he discovered, each with a more than healthy libido, was not for the faint of heart. He suffered more than one ignominy when his dick went on strike. But he'd persevered and --- perhaps it was the sun replenishing spent hormones --- had eventually triumphed. Sex all night with six girls, every night, is surely every man's fantasy.

Morton proved to himself that it could be also a way of life.

Chapter 9

Jane awoke slowly. Morton's tongue was lapping gently at her pussy. The feeling was so heavenly, she decided to feign sleep for a while longer, allowing her thighs to move leadenly as Morton's hands spread them gently further apart. The many months of virtually continuous stimulation had left her pussy lips enlarged, permanently swollen. They had lost none of their sensitivity, but their fleshiness allowed this to evolve so that mild, then modest stimulation by carefully applied tooth evoked new sensation. Morton knew just when, and exactly how. He sucked a pussy lip deep into his mouth, edged his teeth to close over its base and pulled slowly outwards. Again, again and again, from one to the other.

Morton was quite capable of doing this for hours, she knew, and certainly far longer than she could suppress a moan. A brief respite.

"What? No longer pretending to be asleep?" he said, in a slightly mocking tone.

"Please, please, go for my clit. I'll come right away."

"Oh No! You only just awoke," Morton replied. "Girls don't get aroused in their sleep."

Oh yeah!?

He resumed stimulating her pussy lips, now pressing somewhat harder with his teeth, and chewing slightly as he gradually withdrew.

Jane let out a muted cry.

Which spurred Morton to even greater exertion.

"I wonder if you can come this way," he said, as he switched from one pussy lip to the other.

"No! No! I can't. Go for my clit. Pu-lease."

But she knew he wouldn't. It was all part of the game. And Jane played the game even though her pussy lips were on fire, because she knew that when Morton finally got around to it, the orgasm would be so intense it would almost hurt, and it would go on, and on, and would only be the first of many.

They knew each other so well.

Just before the fire in her pussy turned into pain, and not a moment before, Morton raised his head, leaving her spread wide, cool suddenly as the juice that flowed from her vagina evaporated. Slowly, a finger spread her even wider, a circular motion, edging deeper.

"OhMiGod!"

The finger explored, every crevice from every angle. A second joined it. Gradually, maintaining a contrary circular motion, one finger explored the upper wall of her vagina, the other stimulated the lower wall.

That delay of gratification could be so exquisite she would never have contemplated --- had she not taken up with Morton. To think she nearly didn't!

The fingers ceased circling, They began a slow in and out motion. A tongue tip brushed the top of her clit hood, lightly, briefly.

"Have mercy!" she cried. "OhMiGod!!"

One flick on her clit, which stood out, swollen, ready, waiting, was all it would take.

A flick it would receive when Morton was good and ready.

His tongue slid down the side of her clit hood, from top to bottom. Then to the other side.

"Holy Moses!" she expleted. Then, panting,

"You just wait until it's my turn!"

It required all her will power to restrain her hand from moving down and finishing the job.

A third finger joined the other two, caressing her pussy lips. A patient tongue slid up and down her clit hood, left, right and center. Her limbs began to shake, and shake, and shake. She cried out. Of its own volition, her groin tried desperately to guide the tongue to her clit tip.

Three fingers inside. Suddenly, her entire clit was sucked into his mouth, teeth pushing back the hood, a tongue tip flicking back and forth across the tip of her clit.

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

The mother of orgasms erased all reason. Reflex only. Her thighs closed tight on Morton's head, her limbs thrashed this way and that. Orgasm engulfed every organ of her body. On and on it went in waves of sensation, tension, release, tension release. She could neither cry out, nor think. Control was gone, absolutely. Each part of her body obeyed its own command. Time ceased to have meaning .........

When some level of consciousness returned, she felt Morton's fingers stroking her breast gently. He was lying on his side next to her. When she could, she said, weakly,

"That was the best ever."

"You always say that," Morton replied.

"Because it's true. It just gets better and better. I can't imagine it can get better than that, but I don't doubt it will."

"Not too much, I hope. You nearly broke my fingers with your cunt."

This stopped Jane for a moment. She could not recall Morton ever before using the word 'cunt'. 'With your cunt', he'd added, where before she was sure he would have left this off. Broke his fingers was quite enough.