The Journey Ch 01 7

This is my first story for literotica -- though I've written other things. It's a little slow getting started, but hopefully you'll see and agree that it's worth it once you get going. The full story covers a number of categories, so forgive me if I've mislabeled it. If you like it, please vote and provide feedback.

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"So, why don't you go ahead and tell me why you wanted to see me. What was it you wanted to ask?"

"Ok pastor, I'll explain. But I'm new to this church thing, so if I say more than I should please forgive me. 'Cause you'll need to know the whole story to understand my question. My story is graphic. I don't know any other way to tell this where you'll be able to help me with my problem. But I'll try hard to stick to the facts."

"Don't worry so much about only telling me facts. Don't get me wrong. Be truthful. But feel free to tell me what you want to say. Get it all out. We'll deal with what's fact and what's perception or perspective after that."

"Ok. Well, I guess you could say this issue started with the cruise... kind of...

My wife Vonne, and I have been married for 12 years. We've had our disagreements. We've had our full volume shouting fights. But those are few and far between. And I've never questioned her love for me.

I was a little jealous early in our marriage, because, well, you've seen her, she's gorgeous, and guys look at her a lot. But... I've always believed that she loves me with her whole heart. I believe she and I will go to the grave still loving each other. I know that's how I feel toward her.

I never expected to question that. But things are more complicated now.

The craziest week of my life began three days before our 12th anniversary. We'd flown to Miami and boarded the Journey of the Seas, one of the flagships of the cruise line my father had recommended. The trip was extraordinary. The sun, the sea and the ship were all meeting and exceeding our expectations. Beautiful weather. We chose a November sale date. It was cheaper and the weather was mild. My wife hates being too hot, so the equator, summertime and a happy wife were not going to mix.

We had five star cuisine for most meals on the ship. We made love each night to the sounds of the sea. We'd been looking forward to this for a long, long time. And it was turning out to be a fantastic vacation... until day three.

The morning the ship pulled into Samana, a small port city in the Dominican Republic, we got off the ship with an excursion tour. A short walk took us to the tourist-trap market we expected to see. We had a pretty good idea of what it would be like, and weren't disappointed. Vendors from all over the island crowded the markets calling out to the wealthy tourists offering wares of all sorts. There were tons of sarongs, dresses and bandanas with colorful local patterns on them. Women and children offered stewed plantains, goat dishes and other foods common in their culture. The various merchants were so loud and often obnoxious in their desperate calls for business that my wife quickly began to get a headache. I saw it before she told me, and we both soon realized that a four-hour stay in this market was out of the question.

I looked around and spotted a taxi. There was a nice, well-dressed, twenty-something Cuban-looking fellow standing by it with a sign offering a two-hour island beach tour.

Now, you don't have to say it. I should have known not to separate from the excursion tour. Both my wife and I knew. It's just that the noise was so grating that we were getting desperate for some place quiet to go. I pointed it out, and mentioned it to my wife. She loved the idea, so off we went.

The driver told us his name was Havier. As I'd surmised, he was from Cuba. He'd come here chasing a girl a year ago and they broke up. Now he was trying to save up the money to get home. We figured that was his spiel to get bigger tips. Play on the sympathies of the rich tourists. We didn't care as long as he kept driving and got us away from the market.

It turned out that he was a pretty good tour guide. We drove swiftly along the thin roads of the beautiful hills. He did tell us a little history of the island, from its settlers and founding to the beginning of the tourist trade. He pointed out a few picturesque villages. We saw two of the most popular DR beaches. I asked if we could stop for a little while at one of them.

"Oh yes," Havier said. "But not here. I have the perfect one in mind. The water is fantastic. The sand is all sorts of colors. And it's secluded enough to really enjoy yourself without dealing with all of the tourist traps."

I guessed we'd either been too obvious with our distaste of the market, or he often picked up fares for that reason.

After another twenty minutes we arrived at what I am now certain is the most beautiful place on earth. The driver turned off a minor road down a dirt road driving through foliage. My wife began squeezing my arm in that "what did you get us into" way. We bumped and rumbled down this dirt road for another minute before arriving at the edge of a slight cliff. The beach Havier brought us to sat in a great rock alcove with lush greenery going up a steep incline to the mountaintop. Tropical plants and flora of every type spread down to the edge of the sand.

"We'll stop here for a bit."

Vonne and I stepped out of the car and looked around in awe. It was absolutely gorgeous. We stopped and stared at the unbelievably clear water, the schools of fish you could see from our dirt roadside perch fifty feet away. We were dazzled by the multi-colored sand that was beige in places, pink in others, black at times and this eerie faint blue elsewhere. A weathered set of dark pine stairs led down a crooked path to the beach.

"You all should still have two and a half hours before your shuttle boat heads back to the ship. So take your time."

I glanced over at Havier and he gave me a mischievous smile.

"I think I'll go for a walk. I'll be back in maybe..." he tilted his head to the side squinching his face as if trying to think -- as if any of us believed he didn't know exactly what he was going to say. "An hour and fifteen minutes... or maybe an hour and a half."

With that, he closed his door and walked whistling back down the dirt road.

Vonne and I just gazed at each other elated for a minute before looking back at the beach. It was stunning. And within moments we'd gathered a small blanket, a couple towels from the back seat and started down the steps.

Making it to the sand we confirmed what we'd suspected from the car. We were alone. The beach was completely deserted on this fantastic day in this fantastic place.

"Baby," my wife said, "this is the absolute best vacation ever!" She let out an excited scream that resonated off the rock walls.

I had to agree as I laid out the blanket and took off my shirt.

Vonne just basked in the ocean air and beautiful surroundings while I got things ready.

I looked at the water, and looked at my wife. I'd removed my shirt and shoes, wallet and passport and was standing in my trunks ready to go swimming when I stopped.

"Y'know..." I said with the same mischievous smile Havier had employed. "How many opportunities do we get to fulfill fantasies like this?"

Vonne looked over at me with a smile acknowledging and agreeing with the gleam in my eyes. Her smile grew as she watched me take off my trunks also and toss them onto the blanket.

I love my wife. I've always loved her adventurous side. It was actually no great surprise how she responded. She quickly dropped all of her clothes and within seconds was racing me, naked as the day she was born, toward the water. We ran into the surf and dove into the clear warm salt water and soaked up one of the greatest experiences of our lives.

See, I've always been a closet nudist. I love being naked. I would do it twenty-four seven if we didn't have kids, and work and laws and police that would have us incarcerated far too quick to enjoy it. But that day we swam and played. We spotted a manta ray and a few other creatures that we would later argue about.

But the scene, the setting, my delicious wife and our inhibitions being cast to the wind soon turned sexual. My hands began to squeeze and caress her breasts in the water. I pulled her to me, kissed her wet smiling face and pressed against her hard enough for her to feel my throbbing excitement. After kissing me for a few seconds, she pushed off of me and started pressing her way through the water toward our towel on the beach. I gleefully followed, and within moments we were making love on our secluded beach.

"Pastor, the sex was good. I don't mean to be too explicit, especially to someone like yourself. But you need to know what happened in order to-"

"Nate," Pastor Thompson put up his hands in an assuring gesture. "Don't worry about it. It's ok. Tell the whole story so we can get to the real issue."

"Well, ok... The story starts getting a little crazy here, but this is what happened..."

Here I was on the beach. I was between my wife's legs, licking and sucking her clitoris. I love to eat her out. And I've always been pretty confident about my skill in that area. So I was sucking on her clit and flicking my tongue back and forth across it as she came. I felt her body shudder and those stomach muscles clench as her orgasm took hold. And I was just reveling in her juices as she let out a scream that didn't sound right. It didn't sound like the moans, you know, she makes when we're having sex. It sounded fearful. I looked up, (I usually keep my eyes closed while I'm eating her), and there was an m-16 pointed at Vonne's head.

We both stayed completely still as my eyes looked up the gun shaft to its owner, a nearly black skinned 20-year-old native. He was dressed in a worn, olive green shirt with holes in it, and torn up military fatigue pants.

"What the-?" The gun turned to me, and I stopped my question.

Another young man was standing behind him to the right, and another was at the top of the crooked stairs. The outfits changed slightly, but they definitely all looked like part of some militia or guerilla group.

Now this was really crazy cause I'd never even heard of there being this type of shit-- I'm sorry, excuse my French, Pastor -- This type of war or violence going on in the islands. I mean, apart from maybe Haiti before the storms. So I was at a loss. We thought the biggest thing we'd have to worry about were pick pockets.

The gunmen motioned me to stand up, or at least I assumed that's what he meant. I briefly thought about modesty and trying to cover my wife and myself, but figured I'd better clear that with the gunmen before making any quick moves. Vonne covered herself with her hands as best she could.

"Can I give her the towel?" I slowly reached my hand toward the big striped beach towel to my right.

The gunman stepped closer to me putting the m-16's muzzle against my skull.

Vonne let out a muffled yelp and began pleading with the man under her breath.

I stopped moving toward the blanket and brought my hand back. He stepped back and we both slowly stood up.

By this time the third man had come down the steps and was walking closer. He started speaking something close to Spanish to the second man. Both of them had guns, but clearly felt no need to threaten us as their partner was doing such an effective job. But I could tell from the looks on the other men's faces, that our situation just got worse.

The soldier who was previously on the stairs walked up to my wife with a great shit-eating grin on his face, showing of all things a gold tooth -- yet he can't afford a shirt without holes in it. He looked my wife up and down in an obviously lascivious gaze.

Now on the one hand, I can't fault the man for looking. Vonne is stunning. She's 5'4", with the smoothest cello shape body you'll ever see. Her skin is the color of coffee with one and a half creams in it. Her breasts are round and full, a C cup I think. And her hips and ass, well, they just sing to me. She's slender, but not skinny. She keeps her hair in a short pixie cut that accentuates her face and makes her look like a woman-sized Tinkerbell. And just recently she'd taking to shaving all her pubic hair off. It was a particularly wonderful and well-received birthday present earlier in the year. I can't tell you the extra thrill it gives me when I'm sucking on her clit or burying my tongue inside her. She's only gotten more beautiful since we got married, and I know I'll never find another woman like her.

But at that moment, my wife's physical perfection was screaming at me that we were in serious trouble, and exactly what direction that trouble would take. I tried to calculate what it would take to overtake these three armed soldiers without getting me, and more importantly Vonne, shot in the process. I couldn't imagine a move I could make that was guaranteed to work. Perhaps there would be another way out a little later.

The second man who'd up to now only admired my wife's beautiful naked form from afar approached, squeezed one of her titties and spun her around. He proceeded to tie her hands with something he'd pulled from a pocket, while gold-tooth handcuffed me.

Tears were streaming down Vonne's face, and there was little I could do about it.

"Babe, we're gonna be ok. I'm going to figure us a way out of this." Gold-tooth shouted something unintelligible at me, and I closed my mouth.

The three men picked up our belongings and escorted us up to their old rusted Jeep, which was parked behind our tour cab. I again reached slowly for our clothes and felt a sharp pain in the back of my skull as the butt of one of the rifles connected with it. Everything went dark.

I woke up to find myself standing in a small campsite in pretty thick forest. Judging by the tents, not more than 15 people were staying here. And judging by the shape of things, they hadn't been here long. I was standing with my back against a magnolia tree. The handcuffs had been hooked over a bent steel bar that was driven into the stump of the absent lowest branch. My shoulders were killing me. I don't know how long I'd had all of my weight on them, but my hands and forearms were nearly numb. I was still naked, and I didn't see Vonne.

"Vonne!!" I started, terrified of what may be happening. How could I have stayed out so long? Luckily, I didn't have to wait long to see her.

Vonne walked out of the largest of the tents beside a small native woman. The sixty-some-odd year-old lady looked even less like she belonged here than we did. They almost looked like two women just walking and talking until Gold-tooth came out after them, still pointing his gun at my wife. I did notice that Vonne's hands were no longer tied. At least that gave me some relief. Maybe this native woman had good news, or a soft enough heart to let us go.

My hopes were quickly dashed.

The woman's accent was thick. It was Spanish mixed with something else. I'd never thought of people from other countries having mixed accents. But hers made it very hard to tell what she was saying. But it still didn't take us that long to get the gist of it.

"Garble, garble, soldiers not happy. Away from home, garble, garble. Not fight well, garble."

But her last words were very clear.

"You make soldiers happy, fight better, I not kill yours."

Vonne looked up mortified, first at the woman, and then at me. I could do little more than match her state of horror.

Now, here I should mention, Vonne and I are both really committed to this God thing. At least, we try. But even before we started coming here, Vonne's integrity and honor and character were very important to her. From the time I met her she was always a sophisticated, fine upstanding woman. She was a virgin when we married, and our vows and marriage are very important to her. So even with such a terrible situation, there was a lot for her to consider. I don't blame her for that.

I desperately looked around for a way of escape, and found nothing. But my full attention was quickly brought back to front when Gold-tooth began slowly approaching me and brandished a large butterfly knife. I grabbed hold of my bonds and tried to kick at him. But that clearly was not going to be our salvation.

I glanced at Vonne and saw the defeat in her eyes. Looking into mine, she put her hand on Gold-tooth's arm and stopped him. He smiled, still looking at me and put the knife away.

The next few minutes were a flurry of movement as the little native woman began coordinating something in whatever backwards dialect these men spoke. I just looked into my wife's eyes trying to figure out something to say. I couldn't think of anything that sounded right. I didn't want to thank her. I didn't want to seem like I wanted her to be willing to be ravaged and humiliated to save me. I wanted to tell her to run for it, but I had absolutely no idea where we were, and she was still naked, with no money and no ID in another country.

I guessed that anywhere would be better than this.

"Run! Vonne, run!"

The stairs-man from before raised his rifle and pointed it at me.

Vonne never moved. She just looked at me and shook her head. I stared back with tears coming down my face.

My attention was briefly pulled away when I saw the small woman talking to four of the men. Once the congress was over. The fourth man walked off into a tent and returned momentarily with an air mattress. The other three began removing their clothes. The native woman just stood by and watched. I tried pleading with her, but she never even looked at me. She just watched my wife, and her troops.

"Now something I did not expect to notice... and this begins the explanation of at least part of why I need to talk to you,... I didn't expect to notice their actual bodies. By this time I was imagining, expecting that a horrible nightmare was about to happen in a great blur in front of me. But no, I saw everything in great detail. I saw every detail of the men who approached my wife. And not every feature was a sign of weakness.

Each of the soldiers, if you could call them that, were similar in height, build and complexion. They were all very dark skinned, as if they were from northern Africa, with thin runners' builds. They looked downright malnourished to me, though they weren't going to get a lot of sympathy for that. Gold-tooth stood out for all the wrong reasons. He didn't look very bright. His face looked kinda crooked, like he'd lost a lot of fights. Two of the guys could have been brothers; they favored each other so much. But the third man, the man from the steps, whom I'll call Harry, was hung like a moose. His cock had to be nearly a foot long as he walked toward her. It almost reached his knee. I started as I saw it, which made Vonne look. She jumped a little when she saw the man, bringing her hand over her mouth. She looked back at me, and I didn't know what to say.

Gold-tooth looked fairly normal in size, about six inches, though it was bent the wrong way. I'll call the second man who took us from the beach, Slim, because people often give names that are opposites of what they're really like. Slim's dick had to be as thick as my wrist, and you can see I don't have small hands. The last guy, the one we didn't see until we got in the camp had a cock that was eight inches lying limp against his thigh. I struggled again against my bonds to little effect.

Needless to say the four men began to touch my wife. Their hands went everywhere. Her arms, her breasts, her stomach, her hair. She struggled a little, but hands quickly forced her back into place, standing there in the center of camp fifteen feet from the accursed tree I was stuck to. She alternated between looking at me, and looking down at the ground. I tried to give her what strength I could. But I didn't even know what to offer.