Tropical Dreams

With a small cry of disappointment, Tara felt John's lips leave her heaving mounds, but the cry quickly turned to one of anxious anticipation as he began to lick his way down her straining body. Her own hands moved to her breasts, tweaking the engorged nipples.

"Oh yes, my love!" she urged. "Lick me, please lick me!"

For reply, the rogue just smiled up at the young woman, but moved no faster in his slow but inexorable journey down her body. His wet tongue flicking at her bellybutton, Taria couldn't believe how vivid her dream was. Her prior erotic dreams had been nothing compared to this; the sensations coursing through her were as real as if John was actually there with her, plunging his fingers in and out of her wetness, sliding his lips along her. She could feel with exquisite pleasure his fingers fucking her sun-drenched body, her love juices dripping down her taut thighs, the agonizing anticipation of feeling his mouth feasting at her lower lips. She had never cum from a dream before, but she could feel the telltale signs of climax building in her slowly as he worshipped her.

"God, yes!" she cried, arching her hips off the ground, offering herself fully to her lover, as his mouth completed its pilgrimage and found her sopping grotto. Like a cat, he lapped at the cream of her desire, licking the honeyed juices from her pink petals. The taste intoxicated him and he feasted like one possessed, bringing his mouth down hard against her soft flesh, sucking the erect nub of her clit into his mouth, laving it with his clever tongue.

Feeling his probing tongue on her womanhood, Tara felt like she was going to burst with pleasure. She soared higher, ever higher, reveling in the delicious sensations of his mouth on her, his fingers twisting and turning.

Suddenly she crested.

With an inarticulate cry, her body convulsed, thighs closing reflexively around his head, grinding him closer against her spasming cunt as she shuddered like a sapling in a strong wind. Her body rippled as her climax tore through her, beginning at her core and spreading like wildfire throughout, overloading her senses as she thrashed mindlessly, focused only on the intense delight. John drove his fingers mercilessly into the young woman's quivering body again and again, delighting in the cries of pleasure his mouth was wringing from her lips.

Temporarily sated, her thighs loosened their grip and her upraised buttocks slumped back to the ground. Lifting his head from her honey pot, the pirate smiled up at her, his face smeared with her juices. She lay back lazily, eagerly watching as he unbuckled his pants, dropped them to reveal his jutting cock.

"I want you, Tara, my love," he murmured as he knelt betwixt her open thighs.

Gasping her assent, she reached down and grasped his hard shaft, positioning it between her lower lips. "Aaagghh!" she cried in delight, as he thrust into her slickness. She could feel her vaginal walls expanding to accommodate the welcome invader, feel the head push its way in, feel every vein and knob and bump as he speared her, thrusting himself deeply into her. His pubic hair mashed against hers, intermingled with her thatch, scratching her clitoris like tiny little rough fingers as he lay on her for a moment, buried inside her, letting her body adjust itself to his size.

She urged him on, beating on his buttocks with her heels to spur him. "Fuck me, fuck me!" she shouted to the wind, screaming her ecstasy to the sky. Above her, the buccaneer began to drive himself in and out of her soaked snatch. She pulled him to her, delighting in feeling his hardened shaft slide almost all the way out of her body, massaging her fevered interior walls, delirious with pleasure when he rammed himself back in again, his pubes stimulating her swollen clit until she was near delirium.

Her initial orgasm had served only to whet her sexual appetite. Countless tiny tremors wracked her as he plundered her willing body. Together they soared on the wings of passion. Her hot inner walls clutched him in a steaming, silky embrace, caressing his hard cock with their velvety softness. He could feel his balls tightening, his spunk desperate for release, as he impaled the writhing young woman beneath him again and again, slamming her ass hard against the ground with each savage downstroke.

With a hoarse shout, John came, his hot cum jetting out, coating her sopping cunt. Feeling his seed spurting into her, Tara ground herself against him, burying his length full inside her, striking her clit against him, sending her over the edge. Her feet beat a staccato pattern on his buttocks as she climaxed, her cries of primordial pleasure startling a flock of seabirds into frenzied flight.

The two lovers flew with them.

Finally, exhausted, John slumped down, lying on top of his lady love. Kissing her gently, he said, "That was fantastic, Tara, but I must needs be getting back. It wouldn't do for the Captain to miss me."

She murmured her reluctant agreement. They exchanged one last deep kiss--and were suddenly shocked when a maddened voice shouted near them, "Ya scurvy dog! Betray me, will you!"

John rolled off her, sprang to his feet. Facing him, not a dozen feet away, was Captain Jennings, rage contorting his face, his pistol out and pointed at John's chest. John knew the temper of his Captain, knew that he was a dead man if he didn't kill the Captain first. His own weapons lay on the ground a few short feet away. With a wild cry--"Tara, I love you!"--he leapt for his pistol, dove, grabbed it and rolled into kneeling position, swinging the flintlock towards Jennings.

Though John was swift as a hunting cat, Jennings had the drop on him. Both their weapons belched flame, their twin explosions blending together nearly as one crash...

Screaming, Taria awakened. A babble of confused voices greeted her, people asking if she was all right. Disoriented, she stared wildly around her.

She was in a cave. About her, their faces expressing concern in the glow of the flashlights, were several of the castaways, including Pulp Fan. Everyone seemed to be asking her all at the same time if she was okay, inquiring if she was hurt.

"I'm OK--I think," she replied and slowly got to her feet, assisted by some of the others. Though her body ached from numerous bruises, she appeared to have suffered no serious injury from her fall.

"Thank God you're all right!" exclaimed Pulp, expressing the sentiments of everyone there.

Just a few moments before, Pulp had rushed into camp, gasping that Taria was in trouble. The castaways had speedily set forth. With The Bear, Ivan and a few others anchoring the rope, Pulp and several others had climbed down into the hole, which dropped straight down for a dozen feet or so, before gradually sloping, ending in an underground cavern. They had found Taria there, unconscious, but before they could begin to carefully examine her, she had started screaming before suddenly awakening.

Standing somewhat unsteadily, Taria stared at Pulp for a moment. "That's the last time I yell at you about your dreams," she said. Confused, Pulp stared blankly back at her. "Never mind," she said. "I'll explain it all to you back at the camp."

Securing herself to the line, Taria was hauled up out of the cave by The Bear and crew, the others following on her heels. Finally, only Malinov and DG were left in the cave.

"You go up," Mal said. "I'm going to do a little spelunking."

"I'm not going to let you have all the fun!" DG declared. "I'm with you."

Calling up to the others to tie the rope to something, the two intrepid explorers moved deeper into the cave...

* * * * *

"And the rest, you know," Taria concluded, finishing her story. "That's when I woke up screaming, to find all of you around me. Thanks again!"

Taria and the others had arrived back at the camp a short time before. Though she had made reference during the trip to "a heck of a story" to tell them, the writers had waited patiently while she ate a little food and downed some orange juice (liberally spiced with rum). It was only after Malinov and DG returned--answering the questions of, "did you find anything," with "we'll tell you about it in a moment,"--that Taria had launched into her tale, telling of her dream, of how she had seemingly been trapped helplessly in someone else's body but enjoying the experience immensely, until its sudden and horrifying conclusion.

"What a terrible ending!" exclaimed Kim, echoing the thoughts of everyone there. She leaned over and kissed Taria gently.

The group immediately launched into a frenzied discussion of Taria's dream; Mal and DG conspicuously absent from it. After the debate had proceeded for a few minutes, Malinov and DG looked across the fire at each other. Nodding, they got up and disappeared into the night for a moment, returning almost immediately, staggering under the weight of a huge chest. Dropping it on the ground in front of their amazed fellows, they disappeared once more, returning with its twin.

"DG and I found these in the back of the cave," Mal announced by way of explanation, perhaps unnecessarily. "From the looks of it, a group of pirates placed these chests in the cave before sealing it up."

The two massive chests were emblazoned, each with a skull and crossbones carved into them. Seeing them, Taria stiffened. "They look exactly like the ones in my dream," she whispered, half to herself.

At a request from Mal, The Bear grabbed a large rock, pounding it against the rusty padlocks securing the contents of the chests. A few sturdy blows struck the locks open. Eager hands raised the lids. Gold doubloons and glittering necklaces, bejewelled gobbets and gem-encrusted trinkets poured out in profusion.

"We're rich!" cried several of the writers in unison, before Sven the Elder pointed out that, seeing as this was Malinov's island, the treasure probably belonged to him, or to its finders, Mal and DG. The dampening of enthusiasm this observation brought lasted scant seconds, however, as Mal announced, "Libertines! Are we not united in our common love for erotic adventure? Are we not united in our current plight? Whatever this island has to offer is ours together, share-and-share alike!"

As the crowd called for three cheers, Malinov modestly waved a hand and stepped away from the campfire. A moment later, DG followed him, unnoticed by the others, who had begun to gleefully throw gold doubloons at each other. DG found Mal waiting for him some distance away from the fire, sitting on a stump, idly stripping tiny pieces of bark from a branch and tossing them into the air, watching as they were carried away by the wind.

DG leaned against a tree a few feet away, started aimlessly sketching abstract patterns in the sandy soil with his toes. For a few moments, they waited there in silence, the muted cries of their fellows reaching them through the clear night air. When DG finally spoke, his sudden voice seemed loud, though he spoke in a low hush. "So, what do you make of Taria's story?"

"I'm not sure," Mal replied after a moment. "But I _am_ sure, doubly sure, now, that we did the right thing by not telling the others."

"Aye," DG agreed, before lapsing once more into silence. A short time later, exchanging one last glance, they parted, each going their own way into the night, each alone with his thoughts.

And from that day forward, they never spoke of it again; never told a living soul of what they had found next to the chests--a human skeleton.

And though Taria may have suspected, she never asked...