Author's note: This is the second part of a two-part story. Ch II is essentially self-contained, but there are many references to events described in Ch I, which you will find in the 'Group Sex' collection. To readers who enjoyed Ch I, I hope you will find Ch II a worthy conclusion to the story of Morton and Jane. If you are squeamish, though, it's probably better to give this one a pass. If you decide to try it anyway, remember, this is sheer fantasy. Do not try this stuff at home!
Introduction:
Jane lay back on their bed, placed her hands behind her head, closed her eyes and relaxed.
She'd begun a correspondence course in marketing, made possible because of the fast internet link Morton had set up on the Island. How he'd done it, she knew not. Morton did things. You didn't ask how. By their own account, the 'sirens' had spent half their day online, though, of course, skepticism was always called for where they were concerned. They were all students from one college or another, in some country or another, they said. It seemed so at odds with their roles as ghostly apparitions, night creatures serving Morton's pleasure, and deriving much of their own. Could college students not only do this, but revel in what was, after all, sheer debauchery?
Jane sighed. Now there were no sirens. Morton had sent them away.
"You're right, Jane," he'd said. "I need a break."
She'd been surprised. Usually so sure of himself, Morton seemed dispirited.
Of course, it was typical of him to go from having sex all the time to having none at all. He took long walks on the beach.
"Let me come with you," she'd said several times.
But Morton always refused. He needed to be alone, he said.
Life on the Island had changed radically. Except for Morton and herself, only cook remained. Jane exchanged smiles with cook but never a word. They did not share a common language. Morton had not exaggerated, though. The food she prepared was exquisite. The Islanders' diet was meatless, but Jane was amazed at the variety of ways it was possible to prepare fish, crustaceans of every sort, fruits and vegetables. The Islands were not short of spices.
'How long had it been?' Jane wondered. Six months, nine, twelve? She really had not kept track of the time. There were no seasons. Each day was like its predecessor. Well, there was the rainy season, when the heavens truly opened, filling to the brim the huge tanks that kept them supplied with fresh water year around. But even then it was hot, which was no bad thing considering Morton's rule banning clothing of any sort. Barring cook, that is. She wore a long gown of light fabric, tied in a knot above her ample breasts. Jane had wondered about this exception to Morton's rule, but had never asked. She'd adjusted to the climate rapidly, careful at the start, when her body was milk white. Five minutes exposure was as much as she could take at a time. Gradually, her skin grew accustomed to the tropical sun and within a month was a universal deep brown.
Jane looked down at her body, admiring the shape of her breasts, which fell sideways just a little but were as firm and succulent as the day she'd walked through the door of that London hotel for her first meeting with Morton. What a life-changer that had been!
Below, her naked pubis stood out, shaved and rubbed with natural oils. She'd read somewhere that the finest oil is secreted by a woman's vagina, and she applied this copiously to her vulva, mound of Venus and her breasts when she masturbated. Which was quite often. Just because Morton had gone cold turkey didn't mean she had to! It wasn't the same, of course, but nice anyway. She took great care not to let Morton catch her doing it, though. She thought he would take it personally.
She flexed her feet and raised them one by one. Slender, neither too big, nor too small. Yes, Jane thought, she had been blessed with a body 'to die for', from her fine long hair, now bleached white by the sun, to the tip of her elegant toes. When she'd been milk-white the slightest blemish, the tiniest scratch showed. But brown hid all markings, the sun and the salt sea healed all wounds.
Jane adjusted to Morton's absence, in mind and body. He was preoccupied with himself. She'd noted he spent much time conversing with cook. Of course, it had not taken Morton long to learn the local dialect so he could do this without effort. Jane could not so she had no idea what the pair of them were talking about. He'd come out of his reverie in his own good time. She knew better than to hurry him, and did not fret, just got on with her correspondence course and masturbated when she was sure Morton was out of hearing. In both respects, she excelled.
But it was a bit strange nevertheless. What exactly was Morton talking to cook about? She'd have to ask him. When the time was right.
Chapter 1
"This and that," Morton had muttered.
Maybe the time was not right. They were eating sautéed conch. Delicious.
"And the other," Jane replied, lightly.
"What?"
"This, that and the other."
"Oh!"
Pause.
"I don't mind if you don't want to tell me," Jane said, at length.
"It's a long story," he said.
"I don't mind that. We have all the time in the world, after all."
Morton sighed.
"Oh well. I suppose you'll need to know sooner or later."
Jane wondered what he meant by this but decided not to ask directly. Instead, she said,
"You've not been very communicative for a while, have you."
"No! I suppose not. Forgive me for that. I have been a bit preoccupied."
"I'd noticed," Jane said, dryly.
"I suppose I didn't think you'd be very interested in my researches."
"Into what?"
"The culture of the islands, this chain in particular."
"It's very special, you know," he continued. "Not at all like some of them, like Tahiti, modernized, catering to western tourists. Unfortunately, this has led to decadence. Why bust a gut out fishing, or building huts when you can live well off tourists without doing anything, and hire foreign companies to do all the work. That's all very well. But what about the local culture? What happens to that?"
Morton shook his head sadly.
"What's left for young people to do, except get stoned?"
"Really? I thought Tahiti is an island paradise."
