It was a month after the survivors of the HMS Intrepid landed on the tropical moon when Miss Anabella Locke took her first unprompted steps into scandalous behavior.
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Of course, propriety had suffered a few blows by this point. The four survivors had discarded most of their clothing on their second day to survive the humidity. After a day or so of watching each other move and work in near-nudity, lust had gotten the better of them, and they had pleasured themselves in full view of one another, and even provided each other some assistance in critical moments.
Rather than treat this night as a shameful aberration, they had let it become part of their routine. They would spend the day working on their shelter in the gentle hills overlooking the lagoon, and searching for the planet's sweet red-orange fruit, and hunting for fish with crude nets and spears. They would prepare an evening meal together, and eat it as they watched the sun descend. Then, as night fell, they would gather on the stitched-together mattress that took up the entirety of their shelter, strip, and seek out their pleasure.
They were never alone in their efforts. The shelter was small enough that they could only fit if they were touching one another, and they generally took this as license to provide assistance to one another, with hands and words and occasionally legs or hips.
Miss Anabella Locke, whose parents had raised her to save all carnal behavior for marriage, had reached climax while grinding against her maidservant Shanti's lovely hip on more than one occasion. She had listened to Ciara's teasing, and discovered that it continued even after Anabella's fingers had brought Ciara to her fullest. And, in spite of the impropriety of such contact with a man, Anabella had let her footman Roger bring her to her peak with his fingers, and had stroked his manhood until he spilled his seed on her.
There were no fixed partners. Although no one had discussed it beforehand, they all seemed content to help whoever was closest to them, and let their breathless cries of pleasure be shared for everyone's benefit.
On the night when Anabella introduced a new degree of scandal, the four friends had gathered under their newly-constructed roof. Ciara had been experimenting with stews, and the four of them watched the sun setting as they contentedly ate the last of the day's variant.
"That is quite the view," Roger murmured.
"The stew was lovely tonight, as well," Anabella added. "Thank you, Ciara."
"I know of a way you could thank me," Ciara said with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
"She'd do that even if the stew was bad," Shanti replied. "She's kind like that."
"Let's not waste time with such hypotheticals," Ciara said. "Miss Anabella, would you join me for a social event this evening?"
Anabella wasn't sure how anyone could refuse. Ciara was shorter than Anabella by a few inches, but markedly curvier in places. Her curly red hair fell across her shoulders, not quite reaching the swell of her breasts. Her voice, soft at times and sharp at others, had helped Anabella reach a climax more times than she could count in the past few weeks.
"I accept your invitation," Anabella said. "You are such a welcoming hostess."
Roger chuckled. "The social event of the evening."
Anabella smiled at him. He'd acquired a bit of a tan in their month on the moon, even though the moon's atmosphere let in little UV light. The work of constructing the shelter, and finding food and water, had perhaps left him stronger than before. His muscles were not ostentatious; they didn't constantly show off and demand attention, but rather showed themselves at quiet moments and made Anabella want to see what they felt like.
Indeed, Anabella herself was a bit more muscular than she had been before this adventure began. It was not proper for a well-bred lady to do heavy lifting, but she had found a surprising sense of satisfaction in the work of constructing their shelter and fishing in the moon's warm oceans. She noticed the others watching her sometimes, when she lifted a log or emerged from the sea carrying a net, and it invigorated her in a way that proper social functions never had.
Shanti wrapped her arm around Roger and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I would like to invite you to another event," she murmured.
Ciara smiled. "I think he'll be delighted to attend. Is there a dress code?"
Shanti turned to face Ciara, standing just in front of Roger.
"I am glad you asked," she said. She unbuttoned her makeshift skirt, then slowly slid it down, bending over at the waist to do so. Roger stared, trying desperately to take in every detail, from the way her black hair flipped forward to the gorgeous brown expanse of her back to the way her lips peeked out from behind her bush.
Shanti kicked her skirt off, then stood back up.
"The dress code is to dress as I do," she said.
Ciara chuckled. "I think Roger has that outfit clean."
A part of Anabella wanted to intervene, when Ciara and Shanti teased Roger like this. He was her friend, after all. He'd always been kind to her, and she was certain that if they were rescued tomorrow, he would never tell anyone that he had seen her naked, or kissed her neck in the spot that made her knees weak, or sprayed his seed across her bosom.
And yet, Roger never seemed to be bothered by their teasing. He blushed, but he smiled while he did it. They smiled, too, and if they had ever meant to hurt him, surely they would have grown weary of failing.
Anabella was pulled away from her musings by Ciara planting a kiss on her shoulder. It wasn't a demand for attention so much as a request, but Anabella wrapped her arms around Ciara all the same.
Their two social events were certainly not competing. Anabella watched out of the corner of her eye as Roger pulled Shanti close, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other hand cupping her posterior. Shanti moaned, and Anabella couldn't tell if it was from Roger's kiss, or his hand, or his manhood pressing against her hips.
Her friends' arousal, the pleasure they gave one another, was like the wind in her sails. And yet, tonight, Ciara was the current that bore her along. Anabella leaned in close and kissed her, their lips dancing as they gauged each other's moods.
The ways in which they each kissed was a bit of knowledge that Anabella could never admit to, if rescue arrived. Ciara was playful; her kisses were for exploring, and tasting, and provoking. Anabella could feel her smiling when their lips touched, and even if she couldn't tell what the joke was, she knew she was in on it.
Shanti was a deep well of passion; she smiled and joked like Ciara but when she got going her kisses barely left Anabella time to breathe. Roger was patient, so careful not to go faster than she wanted, and yet sometimes she felt his stubble against her soft cheek and wished he would.
Anabella kissed a path from Ciara's mouth down along her chin and across her collarbone, thrilling at the motion as she felt Ciara's every movement.
"The social event is up here," Ciara chuckled.
Anabella smiled at her. The incongruity of using such manners as they embraced each other's naked bodies was not lost on her. A part of her wanted to remember how to be a proper lady, and another part of her reveled in being as improper as she could.
"Forgive me," Anabella replied. "I was searching for refreshments."
"You certainly look thirsty," Ciara said.
Anabella wondered if she could find a place to kiss Ciara that would stop her from teasing, if only for a bit, or if the teasing ran too deep for that. She resolved to try it.
She moved down, leaving a trail of soft kisses from Ciara's collarbone onto her bosom. Ciara's breasts were soft, and her freckles faded away as Anabella moved down. Before they landed here, Ciara's breasts hadn't gotten enough sun to pick up quite so many freckles. Anabella wondered what they'd look like if they stayed here for years, away from the Victorian Star Empire and all of its expectations, living on their own terms.
Rather than keep following that train of thought, she leaned in and took Ciara's nipple into her mouth. Ciara gasped, then moaned softly, a long musical sound that rose and fell with Anabella's lips. Anabella felt the nipple stiffen in her mouth as Ciara's blood stirred, and her heart raced in response.
Anabella glanced over to see Shanti and Roger wrapped in each other's arms, kissing each other too deeply to notice her back. Shanti rocked her hips against his, his manhood pressed against her belly. She had a momentary worry that Shanti would let her lovely passions get the better of her, but she pushed it aside.
"When I said you were thirsty, this is not what I meant," Ciara said. She ran a free hand through Anabella's brown hair, and Anabella leaned into her touch.
"What did you mean, then?" Anabella asked, in between kisses.
"I meant for kisses, miss."
"And I am getting them," Anabella said, placing a kiss between Ciara's breasts.
"No, you're giving them."
"When one is invited to a social occasion, one ought to bring a gift for the hostess," Anabella said. She kissed her way down, along Ciara's sternum and across the pale skin of her belly.
Ciara hummed, somewhere between a moan and a chuckle. "It might not match the rest of my decor, but it's lovely."
Anabella continued moving down, her kisses reaching Ciara's hip and following the ridge down. She could feel the moment when Ciara tensed up, wondering how far down she would go, and she smiled.
Ciara's fingers gripped Anabella's shoulder tightly as she skirted Ciara's red bush, moving along the top of her thigh. Anabella could smell Ciara's excitement as she drew close to her lips. A well-bred lady was not supposed to notice the smell of another person, unless they wore some sort of perfume, according to Anabella's etiquette instructor back in the Empire. She decided, then, that Ciara's wetness must be a perfume, because she did not want to ignore it.
Ciara made the prettiest moan when Anabella placed her first gentle kiss on her lips. It was high and gasping, as though she could hardly move out of sudden pleasure. Anabella smiled, and ran her tongue gently along Ciara's lovely cleft. Ciara's perfume was everywhere, in every piece of her awareness, and her wetness coated Anabella's lips. She explored, her tongue venturing inside Ciara's valley, her arms grasping Ciara's legs to feel her every motion.
"Oh, little bird," Ciara gasped.
This didn't sound like teasing to Anabella, but she was too engaged to think much about that question. She pulled Ciara's lips close and parted them with her tongue, circling Ciara's pearl and delighting in her moaning.
