I'm choking.
There's water in my nose and sand in my mouth. A new wave is rolling over me, and I gasp for air again. I'm dizzy; the solid ground below me is no longer solid. The water washes away and somehow I can get up. I'm no longer down; I'm kneeling now, and when the next wave hits, I remain solid in that position. More waves come but they're no longer choking me. My airways are free and I open my eyes.
I'm in the surf of a sandy beach. A white, tropical beach, curving away. I see palm trees. I stand up, feeling the water washing between my toes. I stumble towards dry ground.
I feel warm rays of the sun on my arms but my body feels cold. I look down; I'm clad in a blue summer dress, patterned with flowers. Wet fabric is clinging to my body and legs, hindering my movements. The thin cloth is rapidly drying but it's torn at the shoulders and waist, still feeling uncomfortable. Underneath, I'm wearing one high-heeled sandal, luxurious and impractical. The other one has already gone. I unclasp this one too and throw it away.
I walk up to the tree lined rim, up to the highest point. I view a lagoon about half a mile wide, lined with a small strip of vegetation, and an opening to the Ocean. I'm washed ashore on a small atoll. My heart fills with excitement when I look to the opposite side; smoke's rising there:
I'm not alone!
I walk through the surf towards the smoke. The spurting water wets my dress again, but that's better than burning my bare feet on the scorching sand. I do not have a watch or phone to determine the time; getting to the source of the smoke seems to take longer than I expected.
Finally I'm close. I cross the beach again, and walk into the vegetation. I find a kind of pit, an open space surrounded by sandy dunes. In the middle is a fireplace; the fire has died and only some ashes are still glowing. On the left, partially hidden in a sandy dune, is an old concrete bunker. Only the front is visible, the rusty steel door is ajar. Random stuff is scattered around, suggesting that someone is staying here. I hesitate; what should I do next?
Then a woman is coming out of the bunker.
She's about my age, twenty-something. Blonde. She's wearing a white, loose fitting tee shirt that just covers her ass. She bends over to grab a can opener from the ground and I can see denim hot pants with ripped edges underneath her shirt.
I do not hesitate. I walk out of the foliage, into the camp.
"Hi," I say.
The blonde woman looks up, stupefied.
"Sweet mother Mary," she curses in surprise. "I really thought I was the only one."
"I'm not your mother," I smile. "I'm Amy. Amy Smart."
"I'm El," she returns. "Ellen Turing. How did you get here?"
"I washed ashore on the other side of the atoll, and I walked from there."
"And before that?"
"I don't really know," I say. I suddenly feel surprised myself.
"Were you on the boat?"
"I don't know." I'm thinking hard: "It's a blur."
"You're suffering from amnesia?" It's a statement masked as a question.
"I don't know," I say. I chuckle. "Kinda ironic, huh."
"Do you think they're going to find us?"
"I haven't thought about that." I really hadn't; I'd been too busy exploring this island. "You'd say a ship wouldn't disappear without someone noticing it," I continue.
"It's a big ocean," Ellen worries.
"Let's wait and see." I shrug. "We have all the time in the world."
"You're right," Ellen concedes.
We sit down.
"Ain't that dress bothering you?" Ellen asks."It's all ripped. Can't be comfy."
"I got nothing else."
"As if we need anything else. We can just wear nothing. Right now it's just you and me."
Ellen grabs her shirt at the hem and flashes her boobs. They're big like melons but surprisingly firm.
"Tit for tat."
I burst out laughing.
"Can't argue with that," I grin.
I try to get out of my ripped dress, but something's stuck. Ellen helps me to disentangle the loose pieces of fabric, and then unclasps my bra. I lower my thong myself, and swing it around my index finger.
"I've done my part of the deal," I say teasingly. "But you ain't. I'll help you."
I lift her tee shirt, stealthily touching her boob. Ellen doesn't disapprove. I loosen the button of her hotpants and force them down. She's not wearing anything underneath and I take the opportunity to pat her big butt. When the pants fall on the ground, Ellen raises one foot, rotates on the ball of the other, and takes one step away from me, teasingly wiggling the ass I caressed seconds ago. I'm captivated. I want her -badly. And I think she fancies me too.
"Let's go swimming," Ellen invites me. "We're already dressed for the occasion."
She immediately darts away. I follow her to the lagoon. She runs through the surf, water splashing in all directions. I chase her; when I catch up with her, Ellen throws water at me. I feel the drops of cool sea water, mixed with hot sweat, tingling on my skin. I try to soak her with a big handful of water. She ducks, I try again. Ellen loses her balance and falls backwards into the water. We laugh.
I want to help her get up. But when I offer her my hand, Ellen grabs it and pulls me down. We both go under. I feel water all around me again, but this time it's exhilarating. We laugh when we get up again.
"You little wench," I say. "I'll get you."
Ellen dashes off, but the water is too deep to run, so she dives and swims away. I do not pursue her; I just stand,
feeling
. My bare crotch just above the waterline, rays of the sun tickling the sensitive skin of my ass, strands of wet hair in my neck, drops of water flowing down.
I walk back to solid ground, pouting: "I'll get you when you come back, Ellen!"
Ellen slowly exits the water as if a Greek goddess. She doesn't notice or doesn't mind that I ogle her body. Her melon sized boobs are topped with proudly erect nipples on large areolae. She's evenly tanned; I guess she must be used to walking around nude. Only goosebumps disrupt the perfect smoothness of her skin. Her blonde hair, still wet, clings to her face and shoulders.
We hug. I feel Ellen's wet body, her hand on my back, her boobs against mine.
She whispers in my ear: "I'm glad you're here, Amy. Now I've got something to do."
"So am I, Ellen," I sigh.
She softly nibbles on my earlobe. Finally, finally, we kiss. Her lips are soft and wet; it's not the wetness of the sea but Ellen's wetness. Her tongue touches mine, explores my lips. I close my eyes, concentrate on the feeling of hot lips and hot sun.
My hand finds the small holes above Ellen's pelvis. I press softly, squeezing our bellies closer, her crotch against mine. Everything tingles, I'm not cold, but I sense I have goosebumps anyway.
Ellen moves her hands to my ass, pressing firmly. My legs part, her thigh is on my pussy. When she pushes with her hands on my ass I can feel Ellen's crotch on my thigh too. It's slick, a bit sticky: Something other than water is on my legs, and it's flowing from her cunt.
We topple, the kiss breaks, we laugh. I'm on my back in the sand, and the laugh is muffled with a new French kiss. When the kiss finally breaks, my head moves down.
Ellen's hands grab the back of my head, her fingers in my hair, holding me firmly, pushing me gently, allowing me no other choice than to go on. The world shrinks to her clit and my tongue. She convulses but I won't stop and she convulses again.
***
