Deidre In The Islands Ch 06

The next day started early for Janine, since she really had not been out very late the previous night. Her massage, external and internal, and the resulting colossal orgasm had drained her energy the night before and she conked out early. The first full day of her visit to Iznoma Hedonia started with the pleasant feeling of a tension-relieved pelvis and a well-stretched pussy, from the exertions of the previous evening and the obscene liberties the pretty masseuse had taken with Janine's body -- not that Janine had resisted.

Now, Janine was fully rested and her pussy was completely tight again after the stretching it had taken the night before, by the ministrations of the masseuse with the little hands. She felt better than she had the day before, if that was possible.

Today, Janine thought, she would take it easy and pace herself. Her project for the day was to reconstruct her feelings from yesterday and to take notes on her emerging subjective reactions to the resort as they occurred. She carried a steno pad and a pen with her all day and scribbled her impressions, knowing that soon they would be knit into a blockbuster magazine article for Against Moss, the leading "alternative" (what used to be called counterculture) and rock'n roll magazine of the new generation. She, Janine, was going to go where no other contemporary journalist had dared to go. Following the legendary Fisher Simpson, the gonzo journalist who invented a brand-new style of journalism in the pages of Against Moss, in the tradition of the Terrified and Disdainful books (Terrified and Disdainful in Indianapolis: A Savage Journey to the Heart of American Indifference, Terrified and Disdainful on the Talk Show Circuit: Strange Times call for Strange Clocks, Terrified and Disdainful in Los Angeles: An Evening at Lester's Boom-Boom Club) she was going to write "gonzo pornography". Nobody had ever done that before!

The entire day, she watched the guests around her and wrote down her reaction to what she saw around her as it happened and as she felt it. The skinny girl sitting nude in the lap of a tall man, rocking back and forth because his cock was way up inside her. (Arousing, eliciting three degrees of envy for her figure and one degree for her position.) The white-haired, trim man who dedicated most of the morning to licking and sucking on the pussy of a much younger black-haired woman. (Very appealing, eliciting five degrees of envy.) The twenty or thirty obviously close friends who spontaneously formed a daisy chain, licking and sucking each other on the south lawn. (Highly arousing, four degrees of envy.) The athletic-looking man in his thirties who was receiving a massage in the very place and on the very table Janine had lost it last night. Only this time a tiny masseuse with pixie-cut blonde hair was giving him a hand job in public. (Highly arousing, five degrees of envy before he ejaculated, two after.) The two women, with the enhanced figures of professional strippers, who rubbed suntan lotion into each others' breasts, ass, and pussy. (Just arousing, three degrees of envy.) The young man sitting in the lap of an older woman with huge breasts, letting himself be masturbated until he spurt in a fountain all over her boobs and face. (Mixed emotions, not particularly appealing from either point of view, no degrees of envy.)

She sat for a while with Marjorie, the "pity fucker", whose job at the resort during the week was to make herself available to men who weren't getting any from the other guests, and who during the weekends entertained the insatiably randy Raúl, chief of the secret police on the Island, who had been her protector after she escaped from her Eastern European homeland, passed over to him by the General, who wanted his mistress safely out of the country. After all, that was 1982 and political ferment was in the air. It was now 1985 and she didn't know where either her husband or the General had ended up. In fact, she didn't care much.

"What are you writing on?" Marjorie asked. She was wearing a loincloth below and another above, made into a very strange support for her chest up. It consisted of a muslin strip, the same as used for the loincloth, tied behind her back and running under and supporting her low-handing, pendulous tits, with the cord-belt over her neck tied to it on the sides. It looked like a basket of pale, ripe, succulent fruit presented like a gift to anyone in front of her, and rolling from side to side with every step she took.

Janine briefly explained her bright idea -- that she would tell the story of sex in paradise from a subjective point of view, emphasizing her emotional reactions rather than the facts. She would write a masterpiece in the style of the new "gonzo" journalism. Marjorie thought that made perfect sense. Facts were boring.

They started talking about a young woman lying on an air mattress on the lawn, about 50 feet away. She was a little thick in the middle and plain-featured but she was ordering the boys around like they were servants. Janine and Marjorie were overhearing comments like "Are you just going to stand there and watch? Get into my other hole!", "Don't quit on me now! I don't care if you can't get it up again. Get someone who can!", "Is that all you've got? Make more -- you've got two nuts, use 'em!" and "I don't care if you get shit on your dick, I want it in my ass!"

Janine asked Marjorie what that was all about.

"Don't you know? That girl is Gerhard Nuszsaecker's daughter?"

"THE Gerhard Nuszsaecker???" Janine exclaimed. He was the richest pornographer in the country until his untimely death in front of a bus a couple of years before. "She doesn't look a thing like him!" Of course Janine only knew what the man looked like from pictures but this modest-looking young woman did not resemble her famous father in the slightest. At the same time, staring at her, she could not help but notice that the girl's pussy was bright red and looked well used. She must have inherited his libido, if nothing else. "Are you sure that's his daughter?"

"Of course she is! She had to prove it to win her inheritance because the old man never believed she was his. He thought her mother, his third wife, had fooled around on him because her daughter doesn't look anything like him. He was trying to have a son when he got hit by the bus but he waited too long to change his will and she got the business. His fourth wife got plenty, though, because a lot of property and stuff was jointly held so she owned it outright when he died. Deidre was his mistress for years but I guess he figured she was taken care of already!" Marjorie was referring to Iznoma Hedonia, which everyone knew Deidre had bought with Nuszsaecker's money. It was nice that his daughter and his former mistress got along so well, Janine thought. Sweet.

Marjorie noticed that Janine' skin was getting pink. "You don't use enough sunscreen!" Marjorie scolded. "Here, let me put more on you." Janine had noticed how Marjorie had been looking at her, always looking sideways to check out Janine's ripe C-cup breasts with the extravagant pink areolas that were her most attractive feature. She was not surprised that Marjorie was finding an excuse to touch her.

Janine wondered how Marjorie kept her skin so fair but was happy to feel the sensuous touch of the pretty, bisexual, and promiscuous one-time refugee. It was a pleasant contrast to the epic massage last night, which had left Janine exhausted and feeling pulled inside out. She wondered if it felt the same for Deidre having Marjorie stroke her back and shoulders and ass cheeks, thoroughly rubbing in the lotion into the backs of her legs and slipping her strong hands under the loincloth in back to slather Janine's apple butt thoroughly under the nearly transparent muslin, which gave no protection from the sun. Janine turned over and let Marjorie apply the sunscreen all over her arms and boobs. Marjorie was obviously enjoying applying the suntan lotion as much as Janine was receiving it. When Marjorie started rubbing the lotion into Janine's belly, it was like a flashback to last night, when the masseuse had made Janine aware for the first time that stroking her belly could be highly erotic, not just ticklish. And when Marjorie slipped her hands into Janine's loincloth from the front, applying lotion to Janine's crotch and even rubbing it on her slippery pussy lips, it was clear to both of them that Janine's body was going to respond with the first orgasm of the day. Marjorie let the erotic tension build in Janine and as three or four other guests gathered to watch, pulled her loincloth to the side and brought her over the edge with practiced hands, deftly rubbing Janine's clit for her until she bucked her hips and climaxed with a loud groan. It was the second time in 24 hours that Janine had had an orgasm in public with people watching.

"You juice a lot," observed Marjorie, patting Janine's crotch dry with the loincloth. Janine was coming down from her climax and didn't respond but after the experience last night with the masseuse she started to wonder if her body was learning to squirt!

Janine wanted to pay back the favor but Marjorie was about to meet Deidre for a woman-on-woman afternoon delight in half an hour. It wasn't that Marjorie wanted to save her erotic energy for her patroness -- Marjorie was a dynamo of erotic energy -- but that she had to have her nails done first. So Janine was left to her own devices, sitting under a tree, watching the world go by and enjoying the afterglow of her come.

That afternoon, Janine started writing long draft passages of the story while the events and feelings were still fresh in her mind.

She was thinking deeply about her story for Against Moss. She had already decided that his would be a classic piece of "gonzo" journalism -- after all, it was 1985 and the style was all the rage! -- and not a straight dispatch from the front of sexual license. She would write about how she felt about being promiscuous and libertine, not the facts on the history of Iznoma Hedonia and what went on there.

But something was missing. There was a hole in the material. Was it because gonzo journalism was the wrong stylistic choice or didn't she do it right? Basically, Janine thought the idea of a first-person highly-subjective off-center narrative piece was the right choice but she wasn't sure how to pull it off. As a professional writer she knew that her draft story about how she was responding to what others were doing just didn't seem to do it. Her plan to write about her feelings in response to everyone around her fucking did not feel like it was working. She decided to put the story aside for the night and to use the time to get inspiration.

By nightfall, Janine also was feeling restless. She had spent the late afternoon and most of the evening writing out the draft of her story and it had made her horny again. She had come just once that day, in the hands of Marjorie, and that was just not enough for someone on a mission to experience the sexual paradise that was Iznoma Hedonia. It was leaving her unsatisfied.

She broke for dinner at the resort hotel coffee shop, where she saw a woman with an improvised bra made out of beer can tabs. Janine could not see how that could be comfortable but there was no denying that it was an attention getter.

It was Tuesday and that meant performance night. A stage show would be put on the ballroom and so after a rum drink alone at the bar, she wandered over to the ballroom before the show to get a good seat.

It suddenly dawned on Janine that aside from Marjorie and the bartenders, she had only talked to other guests a couple of times. Maybe that is what was missing from the story! Janine was writing about her reaction to what she saw, not to the deeper story or from guests' experience. She had to think about that more. This story would propel her to the apex of journalism if she got it right -- the world's first gonzo porn magazine article! It was her third day at Iznoma Hedonia and she had lost time getting guests' stories, if she planned to write a conventional story as backup. No she decided, the gonzo, first-person experience plan was the way to go. She had to base it on her own experience, which she took to mean reacting to what others were feeling.... Wait a minute. I'm thinking way too hard about this, she thought. Time to relax!

The hotel ballroom was a big space with cut glass chandeliers and an elevated stage at one end. It was much bigger than the resort needed, because Iznoma Hedonia did not often put on banquets or big meetings and there were no ballroom dances at Iznoma Hedonia. There were plenty of small, intimate dance floors, the kind guests liked better anyway.

Janine remembered that Deidre said that in Phase 2 of the expansion plan she would convert the ballroom into a theater. It wouldn't be an auditorium, with rows of chairs all facing the same direction -- guests wouldn't like that. It would be terraced and have couches, daybeds, upholstered benches, and oversize chairs that two could squeeze into, with built in baskets with holders for guest's drinks. That way when guests got carried away and started making out or fucking they would have a place to get horizontal and wouldn't knock over tables. Obviously, a renovation like this would be expensive so Deidre was putting it off until she finished redoing the fourth floor.

But for now the ballroom was set up with circular tables and chairs around them on the side facing the stage. There were little printed programs and long pink feather boas on each table. Guests were filing in and taking seats and some of the women had already put on the boa. One had wrapped it around her breasts in a figure 8 and tied the ends behind her neck. Her boobs looked like they were encrusted with cotton candy.

One man over to her left was out of uniform -- instead of wearing the traditional Iznoma Hedonia loincloth, which gave tantalizing but side views of a man's genitals under the think fabric, he was wearing a very tight red thong, showing off huge testicles, with his very large penis sticking straight up. Obviously advertising the goods, Janine thought. The head of his cock came out above the waistband. Janine noticed with a flash of interest that there was a little drop of precum coming out of the eye as he sat down with his gorgeous companion, a willowy redhead who wore the resort's trademark cord belt but without the loincloth. It had been replaced by a second black cord belt, tied front and back, that ran between her legs and was pulled tight into her butt crack and her pussy. When she squatted awkwardly to sit down Janine realized that it was holding in a very big butt plug -- so big the woman could not sit down normally. She had to hold the chair and carefully lower herself down with her pelvis kept straight. I know who's going to get ass-fucked tonight, Janine thought to herself.

The show was actually very good. It was based on American burlesque theater from around 1930 and featured alternating striptease and variety acts. The program explained that the strippers were volunteer guests who were at the resort anyway (Deidre gave a big discount to girls in the business and a free day to guests who performed), using costumes from the resort's collection. The performers in the variety acts all knew each other from making pornographic films together. They all had had exclusive contracts with companies owned by the infamous Gerhard Nuszsaecker, the biggest pornographer in the business, in his heyday, before his not-so-tragic bus accident. The actors and actresses had put their show together to try to cross over into the "legitimate", mainstream movie business. They were going to put it on in a local theater in Los Angeles to show the world that they could really sing, dance, and act, that they their talent included more than just looking pretty and fucking well on camera.

Janine was impressed with the performance the actors gave and the strippers certainly did look pretty good, dancing and grinding away. At the end of the show, the audience was very appreciative and gave them all a standing ovation. Then for an encore, the dancers came out in their resort loincloths and tantalized the audience by taking them off slowly, artistically, gracefully, and in unison. When they were done, the actors came out and did an impromptu orgy scene, just a little number they remembered from the last movie they worked on together. Janine thought that they all looked very nice and with that degree of coordination they must fuck well on camera, too.

When it was over, the audience took a while to leave. During the orgy scene on stage, some of the guests had started touching each other and a few had sat in one another's laps and were snuggling and fondling. The woman with the butt plug had reached over to the man with the thong and was smearing the precum over the head of his cock while she was rocking in her seat. Janine figured that by now she must be desperate for relief.

Janine started to think about what she might want to do before turning in for the night. A porn movie was showing that night but Janine had seen it twice already, so she thought she would go dancing. Back home that always worked as a way to meet someone and get laid. She headed out to the Beach Bar, her unusual breasts attracting much attention as always. There was a three-quarter moon out on this cloudless night and she could see easily, even away from the lampposts and the lights marking the path. In the still tropical night, guests in the throes of passion could be heard copulating and climaxing throughout the resort.