Prologue
In The Beginning chronicled the weeks prior to graduation day, 1963. A lot has happened since, at Islands Estates. Some have moved away, some have moved here to stay for a while. There have been weddings, and of coarse, a divorce. We've had a birth and a death. We basked in the sun, frolicked in the rain and hunkered down during a hurricane.
I witnessed the growth of love between two people. Life goes on.
Dad's legacy remains strong, long after his departure. His foresight and careful planning have insured the financial stability of this family for generations to come.
The sexual appetites of everyone who came to be here never diminished, nor did the hunger and lust for carnal delights weaken.
Life At Islands Estates will continue the sordid adventures of 'Tall Cool One' Virgil Ellis and the activities that have taken place at the old stone house on the dunes.
The old stone house stands today as a monument to my family. It began its existence in 1921, as a token of my father's love for my mother. Built to withstand the strains of time and weather, the concrete and stone mansion, nearly twenty thousand square feet and more than 22 rooms, remains virtually unchanged on the outside. The gray river stone and clay tile roof, a testament to the thoughtful engineering and design by my grandfather and dad. Careful repairs have been made in a timely manner and no detail has been overlooked.
The house nestles unseen from State Road A-1-A, on the dunes back in the tall pines and faces the Intracoastal Waterway, twelve miles north of Flagler Beach, in Northeast Florida.
Inside, the whims and desires of the residents have changed the décor frequently, and completely with the exception of the huge formal dining room and the ornate front foyer, which still reflects the medieval mindset of my strange ancestors.
My father and mother married and moved into the house during its construction. Mother's long time childhood friend, lover, and confidante Louise, a startling beautiful black woman, joined them during her first pregnancy. They lived a ménage-a-trios until mothers death in 1952.
My full sister, Dianne, was born in 1922 and resides in New York City where she owns a thriving lingerie and sexually oriented clothing and marital aid wholesale and mail order business. Her sexual preferences are boundless and have yet to all been explored. Tall, blond, and buxom, she rules her roost with absolute determination and domination only to submit to the sexual whim of any one that wants to play.
Camille, my 1/2 sister, the daughter of my parents beautiful black lover Louise, has returned to live at Islands Estates. Born in 1955, she studied architectural design, and is licensed in both Georgia and Florida. Beauty and grace, elegance and charm, her destiny without limit, she has chosen to bear a child, mine.
Louise, sixty at the time of my graduation, though heavier than in her youth, has blossomed into a voluptuous mature woman. Her beauty has never faded and her appetite for sex remains strong. She is the matriarch of the mansion and shall remain so until she dies. Louise has been here since the beginning and has witnessed the turning of every page. She has no hang ups and is my rock to cling to.
Marie Stone, now forty, and my favorite teacher throughout high school, and my passion and desire, has divorced her belligerent, drunken husband, and come to live in the upstairs apartment formerly occupied by Dianne. Dark, of Italian descent, she is my sister's friend and lover from days gone by. Having seduced each other, Marie and I share a passion for music and raunchy sex. Now in collaboration in a band and song writing endeavor, we spend frequent, extended periods of time together.
Helen and Karen Blossom, mother 35, and daughter 18, live on the estate in a guesthouse next door. Karen, my best friend from childhood, and her mother and I, have experienced many hours of exciting carnal pleasure. Both prolific female ejaculators, they drench their respective sexual partners, and each other, in torrents of feminine fluid during the act of love.
Dennis, lead singer in our band, lives on the estate in an apartment over the boathouse and Gerald, grounds keeper and maintenance man, lives over the equipment building.
Me? Oh yeah, I'm Virgil Ellis, born in October of 1944. Having graduated in 1963 at the tender age of eighteen, I considered my self the luckiest person on the planet. I had been given the big old house and 600 acres on the river, worth around twenty million and assets in the neighborhood another thirty million plus other investments as yet unknown, by my father when he retired. My father had made similar donations to my sisters and set Louise up forever as well. I have an abundant talent as a guitarist, and seem to attract women without much effort. My sexual exploits, to date have been wide and varied, and some of them down right kinky. I love it.
Not many people know about the money, and not many people know about the house. I like it that way, because it makes life easier.
Life At Islands Estates begins in the summer of '63.
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The summer of '63 passed with the subtlety of a category five hurricane. Dad and Jan moved to his house on Key Biscayne, and Camille returned to Atlanta to execute the sale of her house and get things ready to move. Young Gail, as dad called her, went away to Vassar to study, and Karen Blossom made the journey to Gainesville to attend The University Of Florida.
Dianne convinced Lisa Holiday to fly her back to New York on the promise she'd get laid repeatedly while she was up there. I heard later that my sister is a woman of her word and treated Lisa to a fun filled week, of unmentionable sexual carnage. She told Dianne that she wants me to fuck her and Dianne should see if she could set it up. I told Dianne to have her call me and I'd be glad to jump her trashy bones.
Roger Syvertson and I worked tirelessly to set up the video equipment and build a sound stage. Roger and Helen Blossom started dating and soon, he spent more nights at her house than his own. Seems that Helen really likes that monster meat cannon the little guy packs in his shorts and he likes the cum showers he gets when he eats her pussy. I was happy for them.
Denny, Marie, and I started to sift through the mountains of lyrics Marie had composed and after much consideration, settled on twelve sets of words we'd put to music. Marie had already conjured up basic melody lines and with much trial and error; we managed to put together a dozen arrangements that were very doable. We started working on two and three part harmonies to our new songs and it wasn't long until we felt we could start looking for a bassist and percussionist to complete the band.
We still had two bookings in Jacksonville to do for Denny's friends group, and we had a standing gig, on the fourth weekend of each month at The White Lion, in St Augustine. Terry and Al would still be on deck this month, but that was the last time before they left for school.
Dennis found the number for the bass player, Jeff, up in Neptune Beach. We decided to make the journey to check him out this Friday night. The three of us piled into my Nomad, guitars in back and the three of us in front, and headed for Neptune.
Marie had to sit with her skirt pulled up to her waist and her legs spread wide apart, so I could shift the gears. We had only driven a few miles when I glanced down and noticed the dark spot spreading across the crotch of her white lace panties. I chuckled and she punched me on the shoulder. Denny looked at me and down at her panties and blushed. How cute.
