Well, as usual, the "great" Marianna Ehrlich got her way. The most beloved female anthropologist since Margaret Mead, she was on her way to begin a long-desired, well-financed study of the Akua people -- a little-known Polynesian tribe whose home island had never really hit the fashion pages like Tahiti or even Bora-Bora. It wasn't that it was a particularly small island -- it was larger than Hawaii itself. It had just never caught the imagination of either artists or travel promoters.
Marianna had loved the island from the first time she'd seen it. Full of lush tropical jungle, it was singularly devoid of dangerous varieties of mammals, reptiles and insects. The people were physically beautiful (to her mind, at least) -- golden skinned, with diet and tradition leading to near-perfect physical proportions. Life for the Akua was easy, but their customs were strenuous enough to keep them fit from cradle to grave -- life was like one long athletic competition in the more remote villages.
In the one major port city, Lahuana, Western civilization had had some impact. The natives who lived there made their livings catering to Western incursions. Although the tourist traffic was slight, it was steady -- enough to establish a tourist-based economy for at least a few hundred people who lived and worked in the town.
But what Marianna had seen in the small, largely untouched up-country communities had sold her on the Akua way of life. It was unique -- so different from any other society she'd studied that she felt like a grad student again -- excited, full of anticipation, energized as she hadn't been in years.
The only problem was her son, Jeremy. He was just entering his senior year of high school, an 18-year-old with the world in his grasp. He was smart, good-looking, popular, athletic -- in his peer group, he ruled. She felt him drifting into a world that she didn't entirely approve of -- a world of shallow minds and powerful egos. As an anthropologist, she knew, for a certainty, that if he finished his senior year in his present school, with the company he was keeping, she'd never really be able to reach him again. Which was why, despite his anger and all the resistance he could muster, she had taken him out of school and brought him with her to the South Pacific. "Home schooling" she called it -- no problem with that -- with her credentials, he would have no difficulty passing standardized exams for his degree.
As they stepped off the boat in Lahuana (there was no air travel to the island), she was buoyant -- everything was just as she had remembered. But one black cloud remained -- Jeremy was still in his furious teen mode. For the entire trip, he'd barely had a civil word for his mother. His life was ruined -- period. And it was all her fault. The last thing he wanted was to waste a year of his life on some godforsaken uncivilized island, playing big bwana to the natives.
She was actually a little worried -- it was beginning to look like she'd waited too long. Her lovable little Germ had grown beyond her reach -- he was now more like some full-blown disease -- unreachable and relentless in his antagonism. For the last leg of the trip -- the five-day boat ride from the nearest airport-equipped island -- she had booked them a shared cabin. She was determined to eke out as much time in the field as possible, given the finite nature of the endowment that was financing her, and she was cutting every corner possible to save money.
But her son was right about one thing -- she was still thinking of him as a little boy, when he had become, without her realizing it, a man. Or nearly so. At least in body. His mind was still that of a spoiled teenager, but he was turning into an incredibly gorgeous young man. Even as his mother, she could finally see that. In the cramped quarters of their shared cabin, she became aware of the size of him -- he took up a surprising amount of space -- especially in his surly stand-offish mood. He was tall and had a good high school athlete's body -- narrow waist, well-developed chest and legs. In the t-shirt and boxers that he wore to bed (and obviously felt fully-dressed in), she was aware of his full pecs, big biceps and muscular thighs.
On one occasion, when she'd gotten up before him (as she did every morning), he had kicked the sheet partly off his bed, fully revealing his morning erection, which thrust out the fly of his boxers. He was truly huge -- his swollen cock was at least 8 or 9 inches long and as big around as a beer bottle. He was uncircumcised, but the enormous head of his cock protruded completely beyond the foreskin, accentuating the rigidity of his erection. She couldn't resist staring at it for several minutes, while he moaned and thrust his hips, obviously rapt in some erotic dream. Finally, afraid he'd wake up to see her there, she delicately drew the sheet back over his body and left the cabin, not returning until she was sure he'd already gotten up and dressed. She was pretty sure he had no idea what had happened, but for several days, she was plagued by mental flashes of that beautiful cock of his, distracting her from her work and disturbing her sleep.
----
After several days in Lahuana, Jeremy was beginning to get used to the idea that he wasn't going to be spending his senior year screwing Angela Jordan (as he had planned).
He sulked around the cottage that his mother had rented for them, but since she spent most of her time on protracted visits to the interior, all that prime sulking was really wasted. He finally started wandering around the town, finding little or nothing to interest him. The girls looked pretty good, but they were natives. He'd grown up in an anthropological family, and natives didn't really seem like people to him. Objects of interest, but not the kind of creatures a guy could treat like equals. Or be friends with.
The beach was great, though. He decided he'd at least get a scandalous tan, and decided to buy a really small bikini and spend his days laying out. He knew from past summers that his skin would turn a smooth golden tan and his blond hair would go near white from the sun.
With his mother gone most of the time, he was really starting to get lonely. He had to admit (to himself) that he was even glad to see her when she came back from her frequent trips. He began noticing the young people in the town. At first it was confusing -- it seemed as though there were two different types of natives -- half of them wore light but conventional western clothing. But the other half -- the girls wore wraparound skirts with no tops -- their breasts were completely bare. They didn't seem particularly conscious of it, nor did anyone else. Of course, Jeremy noticed. Without any sexual outlet, he was constantly horny and the sight of those beautiful, tan breasts had him constantly hard. As oversized as his cock was, this meant that he finally had to give up on the scandalous tan -- he started wearing baggy shorts, with his most powerful jock underneath.
He finally figured out that the difference between the two types of clothing was just a matter of where the girls lived -- those that lived permanently in the town wore t-shirts and shorts or skirts. It was only those from the villages who went bare-breasted -- and he only saw them when they happened to come to town, usually to visit relatives or purchase supplies.
While the girls excited him, he found the appearance of the boys his age more disturbing. Again, the townies dressed a lot like him, but the village boys were always completely naked. Even in town. And not just the young ones. The ones his age -- with their well-developed bodies -- firm muscles, flat bellies, fat uncircumcised cocks swaying as they walked. They tended to be smooth-bodied -- very little body hair. Even their pubic hair was minimal -- just the one neat patch above the cock -- the rest of the belly perfectly smooth. He noticed that they tended to have well-developed buttocks and thighs -- they must do a lot of running. When not moving, they looked like Roman statues. While they seemed very friendly, he was too uncomfortable around them to carry on a conversation, let alone in French, which was the only non-Polynesian language most of them spoke.
