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The Island (closed)

Day Four (cont.):

Stephanie had spent her first day on the island crying. Well, maybe not all of it. But enough of it to have caused some of those around her to be concerned about her. Some of the others hadn't been concerned. They'd been annoyed at the winy little thing tearing up every ten minutes.

This wasn't like her, really. Steph, as most called her, was generally a chipper person. Why shouldn't she be? She'd always had all she ever wanted. Her parents had money. Her father was a successful divorce attorney. Her mother was an equally successful novelist. They'd both inherited old money which they'd added to their new money to make bigger money. And they'd never hesitated to give it freely to their one and only daughter.

She had just recently turned 21. The first 16 years of Steph's life had been spent in sunny California. She'd been a child model, then a tween actress. She had 31 credits on IMDb by the time she turned 13. She sang a bit, too, mostly in connection with her acting gigs. She'd put out some singles that had done modestly well. And she'd made appearances on some of the daytime comedy/variety shows and late-night talk shows, too.

But neither acting nor singing had been her passion. Surfing, that was where she wanted to make her name. She'd been good as a child and young teen. She'd won every trophy available, most of them multiple times. She'd cute and sexy enough to make the sports programs, magazine covers, and more even when she lost. She'd made more money hawking surfing and related summer products than she ever had acting or singing.

But as her age progressed, her skills didn't. She had money, so losing sponsors hadn't slowed her career on the waves. But by 15, she'd concluded that this, her third career, was just about over. She'd continued modeling and selling products with her winning smile and great figure. She'd done some announcing at sporting events, too.

Then, at 18, Steph joined the cast of a Sydney-based reality show called Waves. It centered on non-Australian actors, athletes, and others who'd relocated to the land down under. In truth, most of them had moved to Australia specifically to be on the show. They didn't tell the audience that, of course.

The lot of them lived together in a big house on a surfing beach, hence the program's title. Steph had quickly become a fan favorite. They filmed four 10-episode series a year. No cast member before her had been featured in more than two consecutive series. No member before her had been featured in more than three series in total. Steph had just signed for a 6th consecutive series.

Before new filming began, Steph's agent called with great news. Steph had an audition for a movie set to film in Los Angeles. To be considered, though, Steph had to be at the Hollywood studio in 3 days. Steph consented with glee, of course.

But there'd been problems. Steph's first flight had been canceled due to mechanical issues. Her second flight had had a personnel issue. Essentially, the pilot had shown up drunk. The third had been without a flight crew because they were coming in from Seattle and, ironically, they'd missed their connection in Honolulu.

She wasn't going to make the audition. Then, the ticketing agent, a big fan, recognized Steph from Waves. Fingers flew over the keyboard, and Steph landed a series of flights that would get her to LA via Honolulu and San Francisco. Her first flight was, of course, Pacific Air Flight 1122.

Lucky. Yeah. Lucky as fuck.

So many of the others had been selected to be here for one reason or another. Steph had practically been a stowaway as well as a castaway. Everything she had been was over. Everything she had had was gone. This was her life now. Struggling by with strangers she didn't know on a beach.

In truth, it wasn't all that different than Waves. Except that it was! This was a fucking deserted island! It wasn't a beach outside of Sydney with electricity, cars and scooters, shopping malls, night clubs, and everything else the civilized world had to offer.

What it did have to offer, though, was a private location with sand beneath and the sun above. She'd found this little spot her second day. To get to it was easy enough, though, it was a long walk. The main trail, or South Trail they called it, went from the camp's south end to the island's south end. The sandy beach ran 2 miles north-by-northwest to this spot. There, the beach ended at rocky cliffs. Steph's little tanning spot was in a curved recess in that cliff, just before the end of the sand.

Her footsteps had been the first ever in the sand here. She'd felt kind of like that astronaut guy who walked on the moon the first time. The One small step for man guy. Armstrong something. Of course, her footprints washed away with the next high tide.

She came here each day for a couple of hours. Sometimes she laid in the sun to tan. Sometimes she sat in the shade to read. Sometimes she just looked out at the waves and yearned for a surfboard. Or a sea plane.

One day, she heard people above her. Steph would learn that a second trail had been blazed through the forest. This one came to be called the Shithouse Trail. It left the camp's northwest corner, entered the forest, and led to the outhouse. It continued, though, to the cliff above. Some of the guys had come down the cliff. It was steep and slippery with loose rocks. But it was still negotiable.

But because it was such a walk, very few people made it. One of the few who did, though, turned out to be Lance King.

Steph had noticed Lance, of course. How could she not. He had his hands in every little project taking place around the camp and surrounding island. She didn't trust him. There was a rumor that even after only a couple of days, he'd established a black market offering just about anything anyone would want or need. How does someone establish something like that in two or three days on a deserted island?

And now, he was here, in Steph's little corner of paradise...

(I wanted to write the above here in the parent thread because it applies to the whole story. However, the interaction between Steph and Lance continues at "Lance and Stephanie, a 1x1", which is linked at the bottom of my cowriter's post above.)
 
Day 4, morning, on the trek:

Lenny was up and around, with a fire built and a creature roasting over the low but hot flames, when Greg came crawling out of the tent. The Air Marshall just shook his head with surprise, asking, "My God, man, did you take Tarzan lessons as a child or what?"

The outdoorsman laughed loudly. "It's just what I do. And, not meaning to toot my own horn, but I think I might have a thing or two to teach Tarzan if given the chance."

Greg looked off to his left and right to the forest, then back to Lenny. Whispering, he said, "I need to pee, but ... I didn't see our token female in the tent."

Lenny nodded his head off toward where Gail had disappeared the evening before to clean up. "She found a waterfall back yonder. I think she might be freshening up again. Maybe..."

Lenny nodded off into the opposite direction, finishing, "...that way?"

Greg confirmed the choice and wandered off a couple of dozen yards. He found a spot where he could look out through the canopy at the ocean, whipped out his morning wood, and sent a stream out over the slight drop before him. He couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself; he would never have imagined that he would face a situation like he was now. It was like a bad prime time television series. (Greg had never been a fan of Lost but now wished he'd watched it so that he could learn what the characters of that bit of fiction had done right and wrong, things he could apply to his current fact.

Back at the tent, Henry and Ethan had awoken within seconds of each other, slipped their shoes and jackets back on, and stumbled out to find Lenny hacking at the dead critter with the big knife he'd had to check in his luggage but which now he carried on his hip most hours of the day. The hunter held out a hind leg to each of them, warning, "Don't ask what it is. Just eat it and be happy it's not airline food."

He nodded toward the little fire and the little pot atop it, explaining, "Richard snuck a little coffee into my pack before we left yesterday. Cups are in my bag. Take one and keep it in your own bag, so that I don't have to carry it."

"No thanks," Ethan said regarding the roasted meat. He did pull out a little metal cup, though, filling it halfway. He repeated Greg's earlier look around, asking, "Where's Gail?"

Henry was biting into the critter's flesh, making a satisfying sound. He'd heard Lenny and Greg talking earlier and answered Ethan, "Off at the waterfall again, cleaning up."

Ethan looked off toward the woods excitedly, as if his Xray vision was going to allow him to see her through the thick undergrowth. He turned back toward the others quickly, though, not wanting them to know what was on his mind. He'd found it impossible to get the image of Gail's delicious ass out of his mind yesterday; sleeping just inches from her in the tent had been excruciating, and the only thing that had kept him from accidentally rolling closer to her was that they'd placed their backpacks between them as something of a privacy wall.

"This is good," he told Lenny, sipping at the steaming coffee again. He inquired, "Airline or airdrop?"

"Don't know," Lenny answered. "But I added a little something of my own to it." He reached to a bush and snatched off a fragile little leaf-covered limb. He held it to his nose, sniffed at it, then offered it out to Ethan. "Take a sniff. Tell me what it is."

Ethan spat out his third sip of the coffee, asking in dismay, "You put something you can't identify in our coffee?"

"Relax, it's safe, Doc," the outdoorsman laughed. He bit one of the leaves off the severed limb and chewed as he explained, "I don't know what it's called -- I did once but don't remember now -- but it's a relative of the cola plant. It shouldn't actually be here, though. It's not native to the South Pacific."

"Are we still in the South Pacific," Greg asked, just then returning to where the others were. "I mean, we still don't know precisely where--"

"We are," Lenny cut in. He talked a minute or two about the facts and theories; none of this was new to the conversation, but they all liked to rehash it from time to time, seeking more answers. He finished by saying, "We're in the South Pacific somewhere. I just don't know where."

Just then, Ethan got up and started away from the others. Greg asked, "Where ya heading, Doc?"

Ethan, seeming a bit hesitant to answer, responded, "Oh, um ... gotta pee."

Greg pointed off where he himself had relieved himself, saying, "Great view of the ocean over yonder, Doc. And you don't have to worry about Gail peeking at ya."

All four men laughed to some degree as Ethan changed direction. He headed far enough away to not be visible to the others, then changed direction ... heading toward the falls, where he hoped he would find Gail.

(OOC: Writing a second post for Howard and the teens, but you can feel free to post for Gail and/or the others.)
 
(OOC: Out-of-context pic of Gail)


Gail had stirred with Lenny's rise. She always slept lightly in unusual circumstances. Spending the night in a small tent in the jungle with four men she barely knew counted as unusual in her book. She dressed and went outside just in time to see the sun rise from the sea to the east. She slipped out into the woods to pee.

When she returned, Lenny had brought the previous night's fire back to life. He headed out into the woods next, presumably to pee. A few minutes later he returned with a skinned and gutted animal that looked like ... well, she really didn't know ... squirrel, mongoose, badger, monkey ... who knew?

They chatted about some of what they'd seen the day before. She wanted to know more about the jungle. Gail had grown up in the 'burbs. Her experience with the great outdoors was limited to 6th Grade Outdoor School and occasional day hikes with a gramma who stylized herself as a hippie.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she told Lenny. She could see the curiosity in his face. She explained, "Yesterday, when I took my little walk, I found a waterfall. It's probably gonna be cold as hell, but ... well, to be blunt, I stink!"

Gail had already brought her pack out of the tent. She gathered the things she needed and rolled them up in a towel. She didn't don her borrowed hiking shoes, though. Instead, she slipped on the deck shoes another female castaway had loaned her. Gail hadn't had any shoes appropriate for island life when she'd awoken on the airstrip that first day. Luckily, she'd been able to bum these pairs.

She headed into the forest again. She followed the same trail as the day before. Arriving at the pool, she stripped down to her birthday suit. She wasn't worried about privacy, of course. Lenny would tell the others where she was and what she was doing. They wouldn't come out ... would they?

She slipped back into deck shoes. She feared cutting her feet on the rocks and gravel in the bottom of the pool. She waded out into the water. It was only a foot deep near where the waterfall splashed into it. Gail reached a hand into the waterfall. It wasn't as cold as she'd expected. It certainly wasn't warm, either.

Gail drew a deep breath, exhaled it, and stepped into the falling water. She let out a little scream. Turns out, it was colder on her bared body than it had been on her hand. A shiver ran through her, followed by gooseflesh exploding all over her. She suffered through it, though.

Once well wetted, she stepped out of the flow. Her soap, shampoo, and other things were on a near her. She went to work cleaning away four days of built-up nastiness. Oh, she'd been cleaning her pits each day. But a thorough scrubbing had definitely been needed.

Once clean again, Gail contemplated shaving her legs and pits. It was time to do so. But was it? Was it really? She no longer had to look good in a skirt or dress for work. She no longer had to be smooth for her Sydney lover. Maybe if she took a castaway lover, that would change.

Instead, Gail stepped back into the waterfall again. The cool water felt good cascading down upon her. She'd never done this before. She'd never been naked in a public place. Was this a public place, though? She was alone in the forest, and the nearest person was--

"Fuck!" Gail called out suddenly. Ethan was standing at the far end of the pool looking directly at her. She raised one arm to hide her bosom while the hand of the other covered her groin. She asked with surprise, "What are you doing here?"
 
(OOC: Previously, we have taken 1x1 interactions between characters to separate threads to make them easier to both write and read. We have decided to no longer do that. From now on, all posts will be in this thread, with the exception of the "Lance and Stephanie" thread, which hasn't yet concluded.)

Ethan had been very careful making his way through the forest in his quest to locate Gail. He knew she'd left camp to go bathe at the waterfall and pond, and -- honestly -- he was indeed hoping to catch her in a compromising situation, namely being naked. But it was taking him forever to make his way through the thick undergrowth without the benefit of a machete. He hadn't taken one because: first, he shouldn't have needed one to simply go take a piss; and second, Gail would have heard him coming, and that would have ruined the whole sneaking for a peek concept.

Despite the delay, Ethan suddenly emerged from the forest to find himself looking out over the small pool directly at the very nude Gail as she was once again standing under the fall. His eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open at the sight of her. She was incredible! A dramatic hourglass figure measuring 36C-26-36 featured large, full, firm breasts and, currently, chill-swollen nipples; a perfect, pear-shaped ass; and athletic legs that seemed exceptionally long considering her modest height of only 5'6". Water flowed down her body, meandering around those marvelous tits, down her belly, and between her legs.

Ethan had lost himself in his fantasies about Gail and him making love in the water when suddenly she called out, "Fuck!"

He snapped out of his reverie, quickly turning ninety degrees and lowering his eyes to the forest floor.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sorry!" he responded. "I ... I didn't mean anything. It was an accident." He peeked her direction for just an instance before looking to the ground again as he explained, "I was out looking for a place to pee ... and ... I just sort of came across you."
 
To his credit, Ethan very quickly turned away as Gail almost shrieked in surprise. He tried to excuse himself, saying, "Sorry! I ... I didn't mean anything. It was an accident."

"Accident my ass," Gail snapped back as she tried to hide her private parts behind one forearm and one hand. She looked to her clothes, then back to Ethan. She caught him peeking back her way. "Divert your eyes ... before I remove them with a spoon."

He looked away again. "I was out looking for a place to pee ... and ... I just sort of came across you."

"Turn around!" she demanded. "All the way around."

She waited until he did. Then, carefully, she waded through the water back to her clothes. She didn't dry herself. Instead, Gail quickly pulled her top and shorts on without wasting time on underwear. The water caused the clothing to stick to her skin like it no more than a second skin. The shorts clung to the curves of her butt cheeks. Her large, swollen nipples announced themselves generously.

Gail rolled her underwear up in the towels with her bathing supplies. Then, she took a moment to study Ethan. She smiled, looking at his ass. He had a fine ass. She'd had her own opportunity to study it while trekking the day before. She chastised herself now for fantasizing about him being the one in the waterfall naked.

"You can turn around, Ethan," she said.

When he did, she ogled his physique for a moment. She was so tempted to tell him to strip and get in the water. She could say it was about fairness. You saw me, now I get to see you. But there were two problems with that. First, she wasn't the type. Gail had never gotten intimate with a man she hadn't known for a while. She wasn't about to get naked with Ethan and go at it here and now.

The second problem was that they weren't alone. Sure, they were the only two here at the pool at the moment. But just a hundred feet away were three other men. And any one of them could just accidentally come across them while looking for a place to pee, as Ethan had put it.

"Don't pee in the water," she said after a moment. She could see the confusion in his reaction. She smiled, then laughed. "You said you were looking for a place to pee."

She turned back toward the trail she'd blazed. Then she stopped. "Don't follow me back, Doc. We, um ... we wouldn't want any of the others to think we'd been out here together ... doing something untoward ... would we?"

She gave him one last smile, one last ogle, and then headed back for the camp.
 
Doris Parker's profile and Image (out of context but nice)

Day 4 (still) at the camp:

It had been four days since Doris had had sex. Well, sex with another person at least. Each day on the island except for that first one she'd snuck out into the forest to slip her hand down into her panties and fill the need. She'd had enough, though. She needed someone's attention. She needed to release. She needed a tongue on her clit or a cock in her pussy.

Doris was so stressed by this new sexual existence of hers. Just 10 days ago she'd still been a 24-year-old virgin. Now, she was an insatiable slut. How does that happen? One day she'd been taking her clothes off for the first time with Doctor Ethan Patel. Four days later, she was naked and covered in body oil, sprawled out in a ten-foot diameter kiddy pool in a sex club's private room with eight other naked and oily bodies. She'd been sucking one man's cock and toying a finger up another man's ass while two women took turns licking at her clit and slipping a dildo in and out of her pussy. How does that happen?

The question now, of course, was how did she fill her need in this place? Back at the Sydney sex club, she was anonymous. Her activities those last two days stayed behind in that club. She couldn't depend on that anonymity here. And she didn't want to be known as the castaway slut. Deep in her heart, she was still that innocent virgin Ethan Patel had loved.

She thought about Ethan now. He had accompanied Greg Hamilton, Lenny Carmichael, Henry Paulson, and Gail Peters on their trek to investigate the island. On occasion, Doris had considered approaching Ethan. Maybe he would forgive her. Maybe he would take her back. Maybe he'd get naked with her and let her teach him some of what she'd learned during her two days of never-ending pleasure and debauchery.

No, that wasn't going to happen. Doris had hurt Ethan. He'd never forgive her.

That meant that she had to find another lover. But who? And how? She'd been avoiding the male castaways as much as she could thus far. Doris was seriously afraid that she would attempt to essentially rape the first male with whom she was alone. She'd very nearly curled up close to one of the girls with whom she shared a tent last night and suggested something lewd. The only thing that had stopped her was her equally desperate need for female friends.

Doris had contemplated her problem extensively over the past few days. She'd come to a conclusion of what was necessary to fill her need. And the time had arrived. Lunch came and went. The teams working on projects returned to their duties. A second set of outhouses were being built just past the tree line. A larger, more comfortable shower building was under construction, too. As were a clinic, a pantry, and other necessary structures.

The man key in designing all of these structures was Marcus Taylor. He was a structural engineer. He'd very quickly drawn up plans for buildings that were functional, comfortable, and typhoon resistant. The Council had put him in charge of construction. He worked well with others, and people liked him.

Marcus was handsome and physically appealing to Doris. She'd watched him work in shorts and a tank top. His muscles rippled as he helped the others place heavy poles used in the work. She'd already masturbated to fantasies about him. But touching herself while thinking of him wasn't going to be enough.

The two things that combined to make Marcus perfect for Doris were simple. First, he liked her. He'd ogled her often and with reaction below his belt line. Doris had noticed the physical response. In fact, she'd let him notice her noticing it. And she'd smiled.

Second, he was married. Doris liked that as well. Her time in the sex club had shown her that married people knew how to keep secrets. Doris needed sex. But she didn't need the entire cast of Gilligan's Island, Turbo Edition to know what she was doing. She needed a married man to fulfill her needs, then keep his mouth shut.

After the crews broke off their work, dinner was served. There was some post-meal entertainment. The castaways had had between them a guitar, a flute, and a violin. To set the pace, a rather talented percussionist had used various materials to build a makeshift drum set. A large portion of the castaways gathered around the central firepit to listen to music and sing songs.

Doris took this opportunity to make her move. She didn't have experience with seducing men, of course. Ethan had been her first intimate male friend. He'd been the one who'd made the steps that advanced their relationship. Doris had welcomed these steps. But she certainly hadn't initiated them.

She kept an eye on Marcus from not too far away while the music went on. At one point, he made eye contact with her. Doris smiled invitingly. He returned the smile. She looked off toward the forest, then back. She tilted her head toward the woods. Then, she turned and headed that way. She looked back with a smile. Then, to ensure he understood her intentions, she curled a finger invitingly to him before continuing toward the South Trail.
 
Doris Parker's profile and Image (out of context but nice)
Marcus Taylor's image (profile coming soon)

(OOC: In the context below, you have to imagine Doris in clothes, not a negligee. But, feel free to imagine her looking delicious in a pair of jeans and blouse that are both tight to her form.)


Day 4 (at the camp):

Marcus had been disappointed about being dumped on a deserted island just as much as anyone else had. He had a career back in Seattle, one that earned him a million dollars a year; he had a reputation that included nearly every engineering and architectural award available; he had a multimillion-dollar home on a 20-acre country estate on Whidbey Island that overlooked the blue waters of Puget Sound, as well as a downtown condominium in one of Seattle's most exclusive and well-appointed residential towers; and -- unknown to his wife and daughter -- he had a beautiful, sexy mistress who turned the eyes of every man she passed -- and even many women -- and, additionally, knew how to do things to him in bed -- or even out of it -- that even the highest priced escorts he'd sometimes employed before her couldn't do if they'd taken classes.

Over the past couple of days, though, he'd started to hate his situation a little less. Just as back in Washington, he'd begun gaining a great deal of respect. The castaways appreciated his knowledge and experience; he'd easily brought dozens of them together to begin building the structures that were going to make their lives a little less native. By the time they finished the construction projects, their little community would be more like a National Park resort.

Well, maybe not that nice. They wouldn't have electricity and running water and saunas and so many more things available at even the lowliest of resorts. But they would be far more comfortable than they were now. They'd no longer be taking shits in the woods with the wind blowing up their cracks. They'd have a clinic enclosed by parachute fabric to keep the flying insects, sand, and forest debris out during exams and treatment.

They'd also be no longer sleeping in canvas tents soon. Two of the teams under his supervision were building what they were already calling the Village. One team had been working at clearing the already-cleared land even more so. Using the picks, shovels, and other tools they'd been airdropped, they'd been removing stones, trunks, roots, and brush from an area just south of the current tent camp.

The second team had been working right behind the first, building residential huts. Each was being constructed for a specific family, and -- similar to Habitat For Humanity -- those families were required to help in the construction. Some of the castaways had had no experience with construction; one man had never even held a hammer in his hand, and another nearly cut a finger off because of his lack of experience with a handsaw.

But the huts were, in fact, going up, and -- because of Marcus's direction and the teams' cooperation -- they were going up fast. They'd been working on one hut at a time, and already they'd completed six of them. Yesterday, upon completion of the first new home, they'd celebrated with a party: drinks, cake, and music had made for a really good night.

This evening, they were celebrating again with music and dance. The alcohol was missing by this point. Actually, the booze hadn't run out, but the guy who'd very effectively traded for almost every remaining bottle -- Lance, the black marketer -- wasn't sharing with anyone that he had a stash of it. Marcus was standing near where his wife and daughter were sitting, listening to the music, when he caught sight of a woman who'd been attracting his attention quite often over the days.

Doris Parker was an incredibly sexy woman. Marcus had taken every opportunity he'd found to ogle her delicious curves. He'd had to be careful with his leering, of course; like many male castaways, he had family here, and the last thing Marcus wanted to do was jeopardize his relationship with them. Marcus had experience with sneaking around, of course: he'd had a mistress living in a smaller but still luxurious apartment attached to his downtown condominium for almost three years, and not once had his wife suspected his infidelity, let alone actually caught him cheating.

He made eye contact with Doris, who smiled to him. The shared glance persisted, and Marcus began to wonder if perhaps she'd been waiting for him to look her way. She looked toward and then made a head gesture toward the dark tree line. Then, she turned and headed away toward the woods. He watched her as long as the light of the bonfire was dancing upon her backside.

Marcus couldn't believe this was happening; was that beautiful creature actually asking him to slip off into the darkness with him? His cock was twitching in his pants, already growing just at the thought of ramming in and out of Doris's young pussy. That was what was ahead of him, right? After all, the two of them had no connection here on the island; Doris wasn't part of his work crews. And the two of them had been making eyes at each other almost from the moment they'd awoken on a plastic tarp on the nearby airstrip three days earlier.

He leaned over his wife, kissed her cheek, and whispered, "I think maybe something at dinner isn't sitting right with me."

She looked up with a concerned expression. "Are you okay? Do you need to take something for it? I have--"

"No, no, I'll be fine," he reassured her. He kissed her cheek again. "I just need to go sit for a while."

She knew Marcus meant go take a shit; she nodded her head and turned back to the music and dancing, telling him, "Go get better, honey."

Marcus looked from his wife to his daughter, then kissed her on the cheek, too. Then he turned and headed for the South Trail. He looked for Doris, but she was already out of sight, somewhere in the darkness. He looked back over his shoulder toward his family again; they weren't paying him any attention from what he could tell. He continued onward, entering the South Trail, hoping that he read the beauty's signal.
 
Day 4, evening (at the camp):

Kimmie Taylor listened to her father and mother whispering a few feet away. Marcus was saying something about not feeling well. Gladys was asking if he would be okay before telling him, "Go get better, honey."

Marcus kissed Kimmie on the cheek, as he had his wife. Then he walked away toward the forest. Kimmie watched him a moment. She quickly turned back to the fire when he looked back over his shoulder. He was checking to make sure they weren't paying him any attention.

He was up to something. Kimmie knew that. What she didn't understand was how her mother didn't! Glady Taylor had no idea that her husband was a cheater. Kimmie did. She'd learned about her father's mistress a couple of weeks before their trip to Australia.

She'd planned on confronting him about it after they returned to Seattle. She was getting ready to go off to college at the University of Washington. Currently, she didn't have her own car. She was going to fix that before she left for campus. She also figured the secret was worth a monthly allowance of a grand, maybe more. She'd have him set up a payment plan to her debit card.

Then, this shit happened. So far, Kimmie had kept the secret to herself. Her father didn't have anything he could offer for her silence. When he'd put her to work building huts, she'd contemplated getting out of the work by telling him she knew. But his secret was bigger than that. Besides, Marcus had told Kimmie that if she wanted a separate bedroom in their family hut, she would be responsible for most of the labor to build it.

Kimmie looked for her father again. She barely caught him disappearing into South Trail's trail head. Where was he going? The outhouse was located on the North Trail. If he'd developed diarrhea, Kimmie would have expected him to go that direction. Maybe he was just finding a tree to vomit behind?

She doubted it. She turned back to the music and dancing for another minute or two. Then, a thought came to her. She looked off to her right and searched the castaways. She was looking for one particular face, that of Doris Parker. Kimmie had noticed the young beauty and her father trading glances over the past couple of days. The Herbalist was just her father's type, based upon his mistress's appearance.

Kimmie looked all about. She didn't find the young woman. Leaning left, she told her mother, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"It's early still, honey," Gladys said.

"I worked with dad all day," Kimmie reminded her mother. She held out her hands. The calluses were all too obvious. The Nurse, Katherine Wilcox, had put anti-biotic cream on her palms to help heal them. Kimmie had wanted bandages. The nurse had told her it was better to let the wounds breath. Kimmie stood, kissed her mother, and told her, "I'm going to visit the outhouse first, but I'll be home as soon as I can."

Kimmie headed off. It was strange to call the hut home. Back on Whidbey Island, her walk-in closet was larger than the entire hut that was now their family home. She looked back over her shoulder. She couldn't see her mother. That meant her mother couldn't see her. She turned ninety degrees and hurried toward the South Trail.

............................​

"Psst!"

Doris watched as Marcus stopped short at her sharp release of air through her lips. She stepped out from where she'd been waiting just a few yards from the trail. She walked right up to him, stood on her toes, and pressed her mouth to his while her arms wrapped around his neck.

She saw no reason to waste time with flirting or seduction. She needed to get fucked. And she wanted Marcus to be the one inside her. She hoped he would return her kiss as passionately as she was making it. If not, she'd adjust.

(OOC: I was going to write for the other female characters, but I'm exhausted. Bed time.)
 
(Note: This is earlier in Day 4 than the above threads. We are trying to catch everything up to the same point to make writing and reading easier.)

Day 4, morning
On the Trek to investigate the north of the island
Lenny, Greg, Gail, Henry, and Ethan:

After Ethan Patel watched Gail Peters disappear into the forest, he simply stood there in silence for a long, long moment. His brain was trying to process what he'd just seen, a very sexy, very naked woman bathing under the cascading water of a waterfall. It was like something from an improbable R-rated teen movie. And yet, he'd seen it -- and he'd seen her! Gail had proven herself to be even more incredible than Ethan had imagined as he'd followed behind her on the trek, watching her ass intently as it swayed to and fro, bounced up and down.

He'd been an idiot to try to sneak a peek at her, though. Now, she probably thought he was a freak, a Peeping Tom with whom she was going to be stuck with for this day and likely one more. He even thought she might get back to the camp and demand that either she turn back or they send Ethan back, one or the other. She wouldn't want to be out here another night with him after he'd done this.

After a couple of minutes, Ethan did as Gail had suggested, turning back on his own trail to make his separated return to the others. He hadn't gotten far, though, when his continuing thoughts about her -- the fantasies filling his brain from having seen her naked with water splashing over her delicious body -- forced him to take a moment to regroup. Certain that he was out here alone, Ethan unzipped his slacks, whipped out his partially swollen cock, closed his eyes to recall the vision of Gail, and quicky beat himself off to a desperately needed orgasm.

He didn't need long, actually. It had already been nearly a week since he'd last had sex with Doris Parker, the beautiful 24-year-old Herbalist who had accompanied Ethan to Sydney and, once there, surrendered her virginity to him. Despite Doris having spent her last two days in Australia fucking and sucking to her heart's content, Ethan had gone without and, ironically, hadn't even wrapped his own fingers around his badly ignored cock.

Now, as he fantasized about fucking Gail under the falling water of the mountain stream, his jizz sprayed with power and volume out onto the wide leaves of some jungle plant before him. His heart pounded and his lungs gasped for air. He'd needed this release; he'd needed it for his health and sanity. When he began coming down from the euphoria, he put himself back together, being careful not to soil the front of his slacks, then headed back toward the camp once again.

At the trekking camp:

Greg looked up at the sound of Gail's footsteps as she emerged from the jungle to find her looking particularly sexy; her blouse clung to her still somewhat wet flesh, emphasizing the wondrous curves of her tits and the large, swollen nippes decorating them. He gave her an ogle, then quickly diverted his eyes before his actions were noticed by her.

"Subtle," Lenny whispered from nearby. Greg realized that while Gail might not have noticed his ogling, the other man had. But Lenny took a second glance at the beauty, too, and whispered to Greg, "But I don't blame you either ... wow"

"I think we're ready to go," Henry called out from where he was strapping the rolled-up tent to his pack. The five of them had divided the weight of the common gear between them, and the tent had been part of the male Flight Attendant's cargo. Not having really paid attention to her return, Henry turned toward his female Pacific Air coworker, caught sight of her unbridled bosom, and reacted with a very conspicuous, "Whoa!"

Even from where he was sitting on a log, Greg could see the other man's face explode in a fiery flush of blood. He looked to Lenny, who was smiling with delight at the third man's reaction to Gail's different but very welcome look this morning.

"I, um ... sorry," Henry said, diverting his eyes and pretending to be busy with packing. He took one last gander at Gail before looking off a different direction to the approach of Ethan. "Hey, Doc. We're packed and ready to go. Get your gear."

Ethan entered the camp looking nervous, for reasons of which only he and Gail were aware. He told Henry thanks for helping pack his things, then -- casually nearing her -- whispered to the trek's only woman, "Again ... sorry."

Unless there was something Gail needed to add or do, the four men were ready to get on with the trek. They'd reached the beginning of the real rise in elevation before setting up camp yesterday, and now they'd be moving consistently into steeper terrain as they circled around the island's sole mountain peak.
 
Day 4, morning
On the Trek

Post for Gail (who is with Lenny, Henry, and Ethan)

Gail returned to the little trekkers' camp with her mind spinning. It had been a shock to have Ethan come upon her while she was showering under the waterfall naked. But the shock hadn't ended there. On her way back, she'd lost her trail. She'd taken a left around a huge tree when she should have taken a right. She didn't even realize what she'd done for several minutes.

She eventually heard movement and thought she'd come upon the camp. She moved forward again, expecting to find Lenny and Greg. She hadn't. She'd found Ethan. And he'd had his cock out of the front of his pants. At first, Gail had turned away. This was a private moment for him. It should have remained private.

And yet, Gail had turned to look upon him through the foliage. He'd spied on her while she'd been naked. Why shouldn't she spy on him while he was beating off.

After a moment, Ethan shifted his stance. And Gail's eyes widened. Even from thirty feet or so, she could see that his cock had some impressive girth. She couldn't tell the length. He hadn't pulled his pants down but had instead pulled his cock out the open fly. But Jesus! It was a couple of inches in diameter. It didn't even appear as though Ethan could get his fingers fully around it.

She was admiring with wide eyes, unable to turn away. And suddenly, a stream of cum shot out before him. Then another, then another! After several volleys, Gail could see them building up on the frond before him. It was a massive load of cum, like something out of a nasty PornHub facial video.

Ethan had grunted loud a moment after his first ejaculation. Gail had heard it clearly. She looked about herself, hoping she wasn't close to the camp. She didn't want the guys to hear Ethan. They might think he was fucking her. And if they didn't, well, they'd know he was masturbating. That would have embarrassed him.

Gail watched until she was sure he'd finished. Then, ever so carefully, she backed away. She knew he would be devastated to know she'd watched him beat off onto a bush. Considering her position and Ethan's, Gail made her way successfully out to the camp again.

Upon exiting the undergrowth, she found Greg staring at her unbridled tits with wonder in his eyes. She just cocked her head at him and murmured, "Really?"

On the other side of the camp, Lenny whispered, "Subtle."

He probably thought Gail hadn't heard him. She had. And next, Henry turned to see her tits in her second-skin blouse and reacted with, "Whoa!"

"Really?" she repeated. This time it was for all of them to hear. She chastised, "You act like you've never a pair of tits in a wet shirt. Kirsten Dunst, Spiderman...? Bo Derek, Tarzan...? Helen Hunt, As Good As It Gets...? Tell me you haven't all rented these just for those scenes."

There was laughter and, maybe, some embarrassment. Gail didn't really pay attention to the reactions from the men. She'd already turned away from them to tend to her own stuff.

Just about then, Ethan returned. Gail only noticed him when Henry called out, "Hey, Doc. We're packed and ready to go. Get your gear."

He entered the camp looking nervous. He approached Gail, whispering, "Again ... sorry."

"We're not going to talk about it," she whispered back. She looked to the other men. With a harsh tone, she demanded, "Turn your backs, perv's. I need to put my bra on. I wouldn't want one of you falling off a cliff 'cause you're staring at my tits."

Again, there was laughter. Gail waited until it was clear. She stripped off her top, slipped back into her bra, and donned her shirt for the second time this morning. She could still see her nipples pressing through the fabric. There was nothing to be done about that. She was excited, whether she wanted to be or not.

"Let's go," she said. She threw on her backpack. Then, turning, she found herself face to face with Ethan. She could see he was still embarrassed. She was a bit, too. If only he knew she'd watched him masturbating. And enjoyed it!

The others started forward. Lenny was out in front again. Then Greg. Then Henry. Yesterday, Ethan had taken the rear. But this morning, Gail gestured him out in front of her. Then, she snagged him by the elbow, stopping him. She hesitated. She didn't want the others to hear.

"Let's forget about what happened back there, okay?" she asked with a sincere tone. "It wasn't a big deal, Ethan. Really. You're a doctor. An obstetrician, for crying out loud. I'm sure you've seen a few naked female bodies before." She smiled, gestured forward, and said, "We should catch up."

They trek got underway once again. The going was harder than the day before. The ground was steeper here. They could see the ocean to their left more clearly. To the right was the mountain. They didn't see it often, though. The forest was thick here.

They took breaks again, drinking water and eating light snacks. Gail tried not to eyeball Ethan too much. She was having a hard time getting his thick cock out of her mind. She thought about that scene even more so that she did him finding her naked under the waterfall.
 
Day 4, midday
On the Trek

Post for the guys trekking with Gail (Lenny, Henry, and Ethan)

Lenny had led the trek for most of the morning, with Greg, Henry, Ethan, and even Gail at times taking over the front position. The undergrowth had gotten thinner with the increase in altitude and the steepness of the land beneath their feet. That made blazing a trail easier, but it didn't do anything for the traction of their feet on the sometimes loose, gravely surface.

Just as with yesterday, they found themselves backtracking on occasion when there simply wasn't anywhere ahead of them to go. Greg usually called for a break when Lenny indicated a dead end, and after ten minutes or so, they were back on the move. Then, just about midday, the skies off to the west began to darken, threatening them with yet another rainstorm. Coincidentally, they'd just arrived at another one of Lenny's dead ends, only to have him tell them all, "Stay here. I want to check something out."

He continued forward without them; a few minutes turned into several minutes which turned into half an hour. Each time Greg called out for Lenny, the outdoorsman called back, "I'm fine. Gimme a bit longer"

Finally, Lenny called to them with excitement, "Come ahead! You have to see this! Follow my trail. You'll see it."

Greg led the way, following the hack and whack trail of the other man's machete. He cut a bit of the foliage back himself, to make the walk easier for the three following him. Several times, Lenny called out variations of, "Keep coming...! You're right on track...! Just like that!"

Greg cut back a gigantic frond that had fallen across the path after Lenny himself had cut partially through its stalk. As if fell to the ground, Greg's eyes widened in surprise; before him was an 8 foot tall, 6 foot wide cave entrance. He called for Lenny again, and the man called from inside the cave, "Come inside. You have to see this."

Greg led the way into the cave, flicking on his flashlight to check the ground for safe travel. He was surprised to find a set of narrow gauge rails leading into the cave; they were rusty and in places nearly hidden under debris that had been building up for decades.

"Keep coming!" Lenny called again, sounding as if he were a hundred miles down the cave.

Greg looked back to the others. Most of them had already taken out their mechanically charged flashlights to power them up. The little torches used motion to charge up: one model was shaken from end to end to move a magnet through a coil, charging the battery; the other had a handle that was squeezed to spin a magnet inside a coil to achieve the same purpose.

Moving forward, Greg swept his own light side to side, up and down, and soon realized what Lenny had found: a World War II Japanese tunnel. In addition to the track, they found battle helmets and nearly disintegrated uniforms; broken and partially rotted desks, chairs, water casks, and more; old wiring that had been used for communicating from the entrance to positions deeper in the cave; and spent shells for a small cannon.

"What are these for?" Henry asked, pointing his light at the rails. He guesses, "Mining?"

Ethan spoke up, saying, "They were probably initially used for removing debris as the cave was tunneled out deeper and wider. But later, they were probably used for the gun that used to fire those."

His own flashlight was pointed at one of the many shells resting along one wall of the cave. "It wasn't a big gun. Maybe 75 millimeters. But it would have had a range of 12,000 yards ... almost 7 miles ... farther being up here on the side of the mountain."

"How do you know this?" Greg asked.

"History Channel," Ethan said. "I'm kind of a World War Two nut. Read a lot about it. Watch a lot of programs."

He was still near the entrance and looked out to the south. He couldn't see the castaways' camp from here because of the decades of growth since this had been a Jap war position. "From here, after the Allies took this island from them." He looked back to the others, asking, "Are we assuming the Japanese held this island during the war...? Maybe built an airstrip right down there where our strip is now?"

The general consensus was that after the discovery of the cave and its contents, that was a good possibility.

"After the Allies landed, either by sea or air," Ethan continued, "and captured the airstrip -- which would have been their only reason for being here -- the Japanese would have been able to drop a shell on their heads with great precision every 5 seconds. That's just one gun. I'm sure there were probably more guns up here than this one. There's probably more caves to be found."

Lenny reappeared, wearing a head-mounted light. He again told them, "You have to see this."

He led them through the tunnel. It curved this way and that, likely following an original and natural lava tube that had formed tens or hundreds of thousands of years ago, if not longer. Several times, other tunnels branched off. Some of them ended within view; like the main tunnel, they contained abandoned war debris. Most of the tunnels continued onward out of view, though. Greg knew that they had to investigate these tunnels in the near future.

Following behind Lenny, Greg suddenly found himself leaving the narrow tunnel and entering a large cavern. It was nearly circular in shape, at least 60 feet with a dome shaped ceiling that reached as high as 18 feet near the middle. Here, too, was debris left behind when the Japanese abandoned the tunnel system and/or the Allies took it from them. Some of the gear had been damaged, again either by the Japs or Allies; there were two-drawer metal file cabinets with bullet holes in them and wooden furniture that had obviously been broken into pieces. A 50-gallon barrel sat of to one side; it was filled with ash, and upon inspection, Greg realized that it had likely been a burn barrel for information the Japanese hadn't wanted the Allies to find.
 
Day 4, midday
On the Trek

Post for Gail, at the "Jap" cave with Lenny, Henry, and Ethan

Gail was intrigued by the cave. She'd known about the use of tunnels during World War II, of course. She just never thought she'd see one, let alone walking inside of one. It was sort of sad seeing all of this. Men had lived here. But men had probably died here, too. The Americans, British, Australians, and more had pounded these locations to run the Japanese out. She was happy that they weren't now coming across skeletons of the long dead.

Lenny reappeared from deeper in the tunnel, saying, "You have to see this."

He led them to a large cavern. It had to have been the headquarters of the Japanese force occupying the island. Gail walked about as did the others. Then she said, "Can't we live here?"

The men looked her way. Flashlights lit her up from all directions. She clarified, "I mean, maybe not all of us. But I'm thinking ... a few of us could set up a lookout here. Clear away the trees out front. Bring that big pair of binoculars that the one guy gave us to use for the lookout station down on the beach. I mean, we have to be able to see farther from up here than down there, right?"

There was a discussion. There was no decision, though. The caves were still too new to them to be deciding to put people here. But the conversation would be ongoing, Gail was certain. You didn't find something like this complex and then just ignore it.

"Did you notice this?" she asked after a bit. She indicated the set of rails Lenny had followed to find the cavern. She pointed her flashlight as she spoke. "They enter here, where we came in. They cross this room. Then they split and continue out those two tunnels."

Gail followed one of the other rail equipped passageways. The tunnel was much like the first. She could see where in places it had once been a natural cave, a lava tube one of the guys had called it. But in other places, it had most definitely been dug out. Gail imagined the Japanese had used dynamite.

She, with one of the guys accompanying her, followed the tracks for what seemed an eternity. The tunnel maintained a minimum width. Gail assumed that was for the cannon Ethan had spoken about. In some places, it enlarged. There were signs that in these places, troops had lived and worked.

One expansion was still occupied by four high bunk beds. They were seriously rotted. Some had fallen apart and to the ground. Others still stood as if ready to be used for sleep. Gail gave the bed a little shake to check its stability. It collapsed to the tunnel floor, startling her.

They continued to follow the tracks. Then, Gail saw something. It took her a moment. She told her companion, put out your flashlight. They doused their flames, figuratively. And they could see the tunnel ahead was illuminated. They turned on the flashlights again for safety. Another 100 feet of travel, and the pair of them were looking out another cave entrance.

They saw the vast ocean before them as Gail would have expected. But after a moment, she spotted something else. It was another island. It was on the far horizon to the north. She did some basic calculations. The horizon at sea level was 12 miles away. They were obviously higher than sea level. She figured the other island was 15 to 20 miles away.

"Can we get there?" she asked her sidekick without hesitation.
 
"Can't we live here?"

All four of Gail's male trekking partners looked to her as she pondered a question that each and everyone one of them had considered themselves. A conversation broke out about the pros and cons of the idea. It was pointed out that they would certainly be more secure against the cyclones that would be increasing as the season arrived. A con was that they would be far from the flatlands where some of the castaways were already planning a garden, using the seeds and starts provided by the airdrop.

"But as Gail said," Greg reminded the others, "Just a few of us. Six ... or ten. I mean, it'd only take one or two to keep watch and signal a ship or plane, of course."

"It might not be healthy," Ethan brought up. He talked about all of the hazardous chemicals and dust left behind in warzones. "If they were firing cannons up here, which I think we have accepted that the Japanese were doing ... there's still going to be a lost of residue and dust left behind, even after 60 years."

"Can we clean it out?" Henry asked. He flashed his light around, then continued, "I mean, if we swept it out good. I know that might sound crazy, sweeping a cave and tunnel to get it clean, but--"

"No, it could be done," Ethan agreed. They talked about the various ways that they could remove the hazardous debris, including using Mother Nature's own water and wind. He conceded, "It's worth considering."

"Did you notice this?" Gail asked. She pointed out the rails heading out other tunnels.

They discussed the potential of investigating the other tunnels and the dangers of doing so as well. Greg also spoke of wanting to spend more time in the cavern; he felt there was so much to be learned from what had been left behind. "Okay, so, two of you follow that tunnel--" He pointed to one of the new ones. "--and two of you follow that one--" This time, he pointed to one going the opposite direction as the first. "--and I'll stay here and see what I can learn--"

Even before Greg had finished, Ethan quickly spoke up, "I'll go with Gail." The other looked at him with expression ranging from apathy to playful suspicion. He added softly, "You know ... so that she can protect me from the bats and other critters."

Lenny joked, "I could protect you from the bats and other critters."

Ethan countered, "Sure, but then you'd want to kill them all and fire up the barbie, and we'd never get to where we were going."

There was a round of laughter, the teams were approved, and the two pairs headed out with Greg setting the rules, "Stay with your partner at all times ... do not investigate a dangerous trail, meaning no steep declines or tunnels with sudden drops or old rotting wooden bridges like some Indiana Jones movie. And ... stick to the rails. No wandering away from them. They are the only thing bringing you right back here. And if your rails end and you get to a fork, stop and turn around. From what Ethan was telling me earlier about these tunnel complexes, they were sometimes intentionally constructed to be confusing for the enemy, should they ever reach them and come inside to root out the occupiers. You leave your track ... and you may never come back."

Ethan was tickled to get to spend some more alone time with Gail. He made sure not to remind her of his peeping tom bit back at the waterfall, and she did the same. They didn't talk much, except commenting on some of the artifacts or places where they needed to alert the other to a potential safety risk. Ethan wanted so badly to converse with Gail, but he didn't know how to do so without the conversation coming around to him having ogled her while she was bathing presumably in private.

They came across a wider spot in the tunnel where some four bunk high beds were still located. He informed her while they looked about, "A complex like this could have housed 50 men ... 500 men ... even 5,000 men. It's hard to know without knowing how expansive it really is. There could be just this one level, but I really doubt it. The Japanese constructing the complex would have followed some of the naturally occurring lava tubes and places where water had eroded cracks into larger openings. It all depends on how important they found this island to be, and without knowing where we are, specifically, I can't really say whether this island had been important at all."

They continued on, and soon enough they were looking out upon the ocean again. Gail pointed to the horizon where yet another island was located. She asked,

"Can we get there?" she asked.

"Too dangerous," Ethan said without hesitation. He considered his answer in more detail, saying, "We would have to build a boat capable of surviving the seas, of course. But it would have to be able to get back here, too. Right? I mean, we're not just going to send a team out there to investigate another island without knowing that they can get back if there's nothing there."

They discussed it some more, then turned back to rejoin the others.
 
"I'll go with Gail."

Gail flipped her flashlight around to the man who had spoken that offer. Even before she'd fully understood that it was Ethan, she knew. Her stomach turned over anxiously. What was he up to? Well, she knew that, of course. He'd seen her naked. And now he wanted to spend more time with her.

Honestly, Gail wasn't entirely against the thought. Since seeing him handle it, she hadn't been able to get the image of his big cock out of her mind. Gail wasn't normally the sexually obsessive kind of woman. But c'mon ... that cock had been amazing. She'd been torturing herself wanting to know its proportionality. She already knew that it had girth. Now, she wanted to know whether or not it had length.

It wasn't like she was going to learn that here and now. They were in a dark, World War II Jap war cave. And they weren't alone. And they didn't know each other. And ... and ... and. There were so many things standing in the way of discovering the answer.

Honestly, though, a man's size had never been that important to Gail anyway. She was the kind of woman who could orgasm upon even the smallest of cocks. She'd never understood that about herself. There was simply something about the relationship between her pussy, clit, and a cock that always resulted in climax. She knew women who had to have a monster cock inside them to get off. She knew women who were primarily responsible for their own orgasm. While getting fucked, they had to flick their bean, as it was termed so hilariously in that movie, The Ugly Truth.

They turned back to the cave to rejoin the others. Gail didn't want to go back yet. She wanted to get to know Ethan better. She wanted to know about his cock. But she wasn't going to ask him to whip it out, of course.

"Tell me about Doris," she found herself saying before she even knew what she was doing. Ethan looked at her with an emotion filled expression. She suddenly felt like a rude bitch. She looked away from him, ashamed. This had to be a difficult topic for Ethan. Summoning up the courage, she went on, "We talked a bit the other night. She, um ... she said the two of you went to Australia together, but that ... things went awry. That's my word, not hers, by the way."
 
Day 4 (continued)
Midday (so prior to the above posts for Doris and Kimmie)

(Note: for Rachel's picture, ignore the little rocky island in the background.)

Rachel Hendricks was probably the most content of the castaways. She'd always loved sandy beaches, rocky shores, and the oceans and bays beyond them. She'd been raised up and down the California coastline. She'd learned to swim before she'd learned to walk. She'd begun free diving soon afterward.

Scuba had come next. It had opened a whole new world in her undersea world. But her true love had been and always would be being in the water with just flippers, a mask, and a snorkel. Luckily, she'd had all three in her checked luggage. And luckily, her luggage had been left behind, as with that of the other castaways.

She was out in the water the second day of being here. Her husband, Jake, had been a bit concerned, of course. They didn't know these waters. They didn't know the currents. They didn't know the dangers, including sharks, rays, eels, and more.

Even more than that, Jake wasn't an open waters kind of guy. He swam but in pools and, sometimes, small, safe lakes. Snorkeling, diving, and scuba in the ocean was entirely Rachel's thing. She went mostly on her own. They made up for the separation in other, very enjoyable ways, though.

Rachel and Jake had been one of those couples who'd unexpectedly won a vacation to Australia. Initially, they'd thought it was some sort of scam. They hadn't remembered entering a contest. But the travel agent had reassured them that it was anything but a fraud. And off to Australia they'd gone.

The theory had been presented that the castaways had been chosen for a purpose. Rachel's husband was a construction supervisor. Give him a saw and a hammer, and he could build you a skyscraper. He'd been an important project supervisor with Habitat for Humanity since even before the two of them had met. They'd assumed that that was the reason they'd been chosen.

But another theory was circulating. Of the 115 castaways, 65 were adult females. (There were some female teens as well, but this new theory didn't really involved them ... yet!) Two-thirds of these adult females were of safe and traditional child-bearing age.

One woman was just a couple of weeks from giving birth. Three others were visibly pregnant. And Rachel had learned that at least another six were pregnant and just not showing yet.

Of the 65 females, half were here with a husband or other significant other. Some quiet conversations away from the men folk had revealed that the vast majority of them either were not on birth control or were on a form that soon would be moot. There wasn't a single woman who had her tubes tied or had another permanent form of birth control. And not a single one of the married women had an SO who'd had a vasectomy or had been medically deemed infertile.

The people behind the castaway's situation had most definitely expected there to be a baby boom on the island!

Rachel was perfectly fine with that. She and Jake had been trying to have a baby for years. They'd never used protection. And Rachel had successfully gotten pregnant twice.

Unfortunately, no baby had ever been born to them. She'd lost the first after she'd eaten something that hadn't agreed with her, to put it lightly. It had caused a potentially deadly infection. To save her life, the doctors had had to use drugs that would have caused serious defects in the baby. She'd had an abortion.

The second time she'd been in an accident that had damaged the baby. Again, she'd had an abortion. The good news was that the doctors had told Rachel that she was still fully capable of having a happy and healthy baby.

The only problem was the lack of privacy. She and Jake were rather vanilla when it came to sex. They'd never made love except in a bed. And currently, they were sharing a tent with another couple.

But Jake, with Rachel and others, had just finished a small hut that was all their own. They were sleeping there tonight for the first time. Well, maybe not sleeping. Rachel was aching to be ravaged by her husband. And maybe, if they got lucky, their child would be the first to be conceived on the island.

Now, at midday, Rachel was preparing for another swim. Most of the other castaways used the South Trail to head west to the appropriately named West Beach. But there was really nothing for Rachel to see over there except for sandy bottoms and murky, churned waters.

Rachel had blazed a trail to the east instead. From camp to surf, the distance was much farther. She had to cross the air strip and traverse twice as much forest before she reached the shore. There was a sandy beach there, too. But there were also some rocky shoreline that featured tidal pools.

And on both sides of the moderately peaceful surf were coral reefs. Some of them were very shallow. Rachel couldn't really kick her way through them. Sometimes, she pulled herself through with hands on the sand or rocks below her. The farther out she went, the deeper the water got, of course. When she Over here, Rachel could spend hours swimming through the coral structures.

Rachel stripped off her tee shirt and shorts to reveal one of her sexy, skimpy bikinis. She had a wet suit, of course. She preferred snorkeling over scuba diving. In the same fashion, she preferred the freedom of a bikini over the restriction of a full body foamed neoprene.

She set her clothes atop the tallest nearby rock to prevent them from being washed away by a rogue wave. She stepped carefully down the rocks to the sand. She was about to step off into the water when motion caught her attention. She turned toward it and was shocked to find a man in nothing but sunglasses and a ball cap standing only a couple of dozen yards away.

She was shocked by two things. The first was obvious, in that he was essentially naked. From her angle, she couldn't see his cock. But by the size of him, experience told her that he was probably well endowed. She'd never known a big, muscular man not to have a big muscular cock.

The second thing that shocked her was that she hadn't seen him earlier. She'd been alone when she reached the beach. Somehow, in the last 10 minutes, he'd appeared, stripped, and moved out to the water's edge.

Rachel found herself unable to pull her eyes from him. He was gorgeous! A magnificently muscular body. Darkly tanned skin, well covered by hair as dark as that under his ball cap. A series of coordinating tattoos down his right arm made her think he might be Māori or from some other South Pacific indigenous people.
 
Ethan in the tunnels with Gail
Day 4:

Gail sent a shiver up Ethan's spine by asking him without any preemptive suggestion of the topic in her mind, "Tell me about Doris."

He stopped short, turning to look at her with a shocked expression. Stumbling, he asked, "Dor-- Doris...? What about Doris. You know Doris?"

What he actually meant was You know about Doris and me? Ethan and his former lover hadn't talked since she'd left his bed and found her way to others' beds ... plural. Even though she hadn't talked to him about it, Doris had obviously talked to Gail about it. Ethan wondered, Who else knows about my shame?

In his mind, what Doris had done was his shame, not hers. He'd introduced a naive, innocent virgin to the ways of sex, only to have her go all Girls Gone Wild with half the population of Sydney. Okay, so, that was an exaggeration. But Ethan hadn't been able to get the image of Doris covered in body oil and writhing around with men and women in a kiddy pool out of his head. And what's more, he was sure that it was something he'd done or hadn't done that had driven her into the arms of so many others.

"We talked a bit the other night," Gail continued. "She, um ... she said the two of you went to Australia together, but that ... things went awry. That's my word, not hers, by the way."

Ethan turned away from Gail and walked closer to the drop off that fell away at a steep angle from the tunnel's exit. He scanned the horizon again, not looking for anything in particular other than a way to explain Doris to Gail. There was nothing out there except for that second island. He finally turned back to Gail.

"I don't know what to say about her," he began. "I thought we were in love. Yes, we went to Australia together. We became lovers there. It was..." He drew a deep breath, recalling his first time with Doris. He continued, "It was wonderful. I'd never been with a woman who could be so ... passionate ... who could please me in the ways she did."

He took a moment to recall the first time he'd cum inside Doris. It had been your standard Missionary position, but it had been so much more than just him ramming deep inside her while she laid there and took it. Their eyes had been locked, looking deep inside each other's souls. Her arms had been inside his own, her hands at the small of his back, her fingernails digging into his sensitive flesh. His arms had been outside of her, his hands clutching her head as he held their mouths close together; they'd been kissing earlier, but the passion and the rising pleasure had led to them each gasping for air, moaning together as their climaxes neared, slowly but steadily.

"I ... I did something wrong, though," Ethan continued. "I wasn't enough for her. She needed something more. She needed someone more. I ... can't fathom what I did that drove her into the arms of another man." He scoffed lightly, correcting, "Other men ... and, I've been told, other women, too."
 
Introducing Ihaka Henare (with Rachel Hendricks

Day 4 (continued)
Midday, on the East Beach

Ihaka had been at the east beach since before the sun had even risen. His people, the Māori -- just as Rachel would later correctly presume -- had been one with the sea for thousands of years; he himself had grown up on the eastern shores of New Zealand, where he'd often been out on the sounds at sunrise to worship the sky, sea, and earth that gave him and his family all it had.

He'd been squatting on the wet sand, thighs on the backs of his calves and ankles, balancing himself skillfully against a light breeze; he was just above the reach of the waves when they rushed up the sands toward him and just low enough behind the dry mounds of sand that one of the castaways coming to the beach hadn't noticed him. Ihaka recognized her, of course; like he himself, she'd been coming out to this particular beach rather than the one on the other side of the island.

Ihaka hadn't been out on the beach during her previous visits but had been up at the tree line, enjoying the coolness of the shade. He'd considered approaching her then but hadn't; he'd presumed -- correctly, as it was -- that she'd been looking for privacy, just as he had. He'd watched her strip down to her bikini, enter the water, exit it, and then leave without either speaking to her or revealing his presence.

She apparently hadn't seen him this day either, despite being down on the sand. She went about her business as she had the day before and the day before that. It seemed, though, that today their paths were finally going to cross. Ihaka didn't think twice about rising to height and revealing his nakedness to the woman. He found no shame in nudity, not even in the presence of someone he didn't know. He stood there for a long moment staring out at the sea. He didn't know how much of that time had included her looking his way, but when he finally turned his eyes to her, she was in fact looking at him.

He gave her a polite smile after a short moment, then turned and began walking casually her way. With his front side facing her now, she would see at the meeting of his thighs and belly a thick, curly bush of pubic hair that went along with the hair over much of the rest of his body. Emerging from that bush was his cock; hanging out as it was in the cool air, it was suffering from a bit of shrinkage and yet there was enough there to visibly flop from side to side with each step.

Assuming she did nothing to cause him to want to stop, Ihake would continue forward until he was close enough to offer his hand and introduce himself.
 
Day 4 (continued)
Gail, in the Japanese war tunnels with Ethan

Ethan was visible stunned when Gail brought up his former lover. "Dor-- Doris...? What about Doris. You know Doris?"

"Of course, I do," she answered, chuckling. "I'm the In-Flight Service Manager for Flight 1122. I know everyone."

Gail was being truthful. Maybe she hadn't known all of the passengers upon boarding in Sydney. She'd been working First Class. She'd known all of the names in that section. But the rest of the passengers had simply been butts occupying seats.

But over the past 4 days, Gail had met with and got to know each and every passenger, regardless of the section in which they'd been sitting.

She told Ethan what Doris had told her and their tentmates. He explained that he didn't know what to say about her. He did, however, say that their time together had been wonderful. Gail responded, "I can see that. She seems to be a wonderful girl."

Ethan talked about how Doris had left him for another man, correcting, "Other men ... and, I've been told, other women, too."

Gail found that last comment interesting. Doris had talked to her tentmates about her sex life, of course. But Gail had had doubts as to just how truthful her tale had been. It just seemed too outrageous. As Doris had described it, she'd gone from virgin to slut in just 5 days.

Now, though, Ethan seemed to be confirming it all. Gail stepped over closer to him. He turned to face her again. She smiled, telling him, "You're a good man, Ethan. I'm sorry this happened to you."

She stepped a bit closer. There was just a foot between them. With a sincere tone, she told him, "Doris might not be the right woman for you."

Gail reached out to lay a hand upon Ethan's chest. "But I'm sure that down there in that camp ... there's at least one woman who's perfect for you."
 
Rachel Hendricks (with Ihaka Henare)

Day 4 (continued)
Midday, on the East Beach

Rachel just stood and stared at Ihaka as he turned to her and smiled. She was confused about what to do. She almost waved politely. Instead, she simply returned the smile.

And then he started her way. Her brain began screaming out for action. But what action? She'd seen naked men before, obviously. Some of them she'd known. Some of them she hadn't. But she'd never had one she didn't know simply come walking toward her, presumably to converse, while she was alone and nowhere near protective support if she needed it.

Ihaka was a big man. He was obviously strong. If he wanted to have his way with Rachel, she wasn't going to be able to prevent it. She'd taken self-defense classes, of course. All women should. She began running scenarios through her mind.

What weapons did she have available to her if she needed them. She quickly glanced about her for a stone or sharp stick or thick one that could be a club. Nothing. She had her teeth, her fingernails, her knee, and her feet. Those could work, she thought.

As Ihaka closed, Rachel told herself, No they won't. Jesus, he's a beast!

It was about then that she let her gaze drop to his groin. She'd already peeked once or twice or six times. But he'd been far off those times. Now, he was barely 20 feet away. She got a very clear look at his manhood as it swung side to side with each step on the hard packed wet sand.

It was beautiful. It showed no signs of shrinkage due to hanging about in the open air. Either that or it was simply a monster of a cock. She wanted to continue staring at it. But Ihaka was close. She didn't want him thinking she was ogling it, even if she was.
 
Day 4 (continued)
Ethan with Gail in the Japanese war tunnels

When Gail chuckled and spoke of knowing every castaway, Ethan felt embarrassed; if it was anyone's job to know the names of every passenger, it was hers.

She commented about Doris, saying, "She seems to be a wonderful girl."

Ethan didn't know how to respond to that. Doris had been a wonderful girl when he'd met her. Oh, sure, she was 24 years old, but she'd been innocent in body and mind to the ways of men. That was no longer true, of course. Ethan suspected that Doris knew more about receiving and dispensing pleasure now than he did, and he was half again her age.

Still attempting to reassure him, Gail told him, "You're a good man, Ethan. I'm sorry this happened to you."

"I appreciate that," he responded. "I really do. But, I dunno. I'm 36 years old, I'm a practicing doctor." He was going to mention having been a candidate for NASA's astronaut program, but he thought it might sound like he was bragging.

Gail came closer, told him that perhaps Doris hadn't been right for him, then placed a hand intimately upon his chest as she said, "But I'm sure that down there in that camp ... there's at least one woman who's perfect for you."

He smiled at her compliment, even blushing a bit. Then, feeling bold at the way she'd reached out and touched him, Ethan asked, "Down there...? What about up here?"

His implication was obvious: maybe Gail was the woman for him.
 
Ihaka Henare with Rachel Hendricks

Day 4 (continued)
Midday, on the East Beach

Ihaka's ease with his nudity prevented him from even considering that the woman he was approaching might be feeling threatened by him. Some might have thought that was naive of him; others, mostly his people, wouldn't have thought twice about it.

Rachel was standing atop a rock about two feet above and 10 feet from him when he stopped, smiled again, and said, "Kia ora." He chuckled at her silence, then explained, "That's hello where I come from. It's Māori. I'm from Tuaranga. New Zealand...? Southeast of Auckland...?"

Still, she just stood there staring at him. He looked at the snorkeling gear either in her hands or on the rock near her, looked out at the sea, then looked back to her again. He jerked a thumb seaward and asked, "Can I join you? I made a speargun and was thinking about doing some fishing. I mean ... sorry ... I should have asked first: are you out here looking at the pretty fish ... or killing them for dinner?
 
Day 4 (continued)
Gail (with Ethan in the Japanese war tunnels)

"Down there...?" Ethan asked.

At first, Gail thought Ethan was going to make some comment about how limited the pool of available women was. She did the rough math quickly in her head: 65 adult females, half of them already attached to a male, and about two-thirds of whom remained within the age range from which he might comfortably and happily choose. He was right. The numbers were against him finding another soul mate.

Then he surprised Gail by asking, "What about up here?"

Now it was Gail's turn to divert her eyes and blush. She found Ethan attractive. Oh, he wasn't Lenny, with his wonderful physique. He wasn't Greg, with his perfect face and mesmerizing eyes. But he was handsome. And he was polite, courteous, and friendly. He had a great ass, which Gail had spent some time studying on the trail. And then there was that cock! She hadn't see it up close and personal, of course. But she'd seen it in his hand as he pumped it and sent streams of cum out onto the big frond of an innocent jungle plant.

She looked back at him. He had something more in his favor. As he'd said, he was a doctor. Being with him likely meant never having to worry about keeping the lights on or the water flowing. But that was out in the real world. That didn't mean anything here on Castaway Island.

"I'm not sure if I'm the perfect woman for you, Ethan," she confessed. "I like you. And I find you very attractive. Very." Her expression became a bit more solemn. "But ... we're still trying to figure all of this out. And ... and I just don't know if I'm ready to be with someone right now."

She patted his chest again, then removed her hand. "I'm sorry if that's not the answer you were looking for. But I'm an honest person."
 
Rachel Hendricks with Ihaka Henare

Day 4 (continued)
Midday, on the East Beach

"Kia ora."

Ihaka's greeting caused Rachel to don a confused expression. Then he explained it and told her from whence he had come.

"Oh!" she said finally. "Right ... hello to you, too."

It didn't occur to her to tell him she was from California. Rachel returned to just staring at Ihaka. For the most part, her gaze was on his face. But each time he glanced away, her eyes returned to his beautiful cock for just an instance.

He asked about joining her snorkeling. Then, realizing he was missing facts, he asked if she was sight seeing or hunting.

"Um ... both I guess," she said. "Enjoying the coral reef ... but if I had that speargun you're talking about..."

Rachel left that hanging. He would know what she was going to say.
 
Day 4 (continued)
Ethan with Gail in the Japanese war tunnels

"I'm not sure if I'm the perfect woman for you, Ethan," Gail told him.

Ethan couldn't have known which woman was perfect for him anymore, and he certainly wouldn't tell Gail that she was, for the same reason she was now telling him that she wasn't: they didn't know each other well enough. Still, perfect or not, for the long term or short, Gail was most certainly the woman he'd want to be fucking next. She was one of the most beautiful creatures with whom he'd ever spent time, another 10, just like his former lover, Doris.

"I'm sorry if that's not the answer you were looking for," Gail told Ethan. "But I'm an honest person."
He was disappointed, and it was probably obvious in his face. But Ethan knew better than to press such things; if a woman didn't want you, she didn't want you. After what had happened in Sydney, he knew that better than anyone in the world.

"Thank you, Gail," was all he said. There was nothing more for Ethan to say than just that. Anything else might lead to a discussion in which neither of them wanted to engage at this moment. And, after all, they had people waiting for them. Ethan reached out, took one of Gail's hands, gave it a little squeeze, and before telling her they needed to get back, said, "Thank you for being honest."

They headed down the tunnel again, their flashlights illuminating the way. Returning didn't seem to take as long for Ethan, perhaps because he had so much on his mind. Before he knew it, they were seeing flashes of light before them and, a minute later, they'd rejoined the other three.

"What did you find?" Greg asked. Seeming disappointed, he asked, "More ocean?"

"More ocean," Ethan confirmed. Then, smiling, he added, "And Gail Island."

"What?" Greg asked curiously.

"There's another island," Ethan explained. He looked to his exploration partner, then to the others. "Gail spotted it ... thus, Gail Island."

He left it to her to explain if she wished; if she didn't, he would. Then he asked of the other exploration team, "What did they find?"

"A lot of rock," Lenny said. He pointed toward the tunnel down which they'd traveled, clarifying, "The tunnel collapsed about a hundred feet down. Long time ago ... years, maybe decades. Hell, might have happened during the war ... during the Allied assault, presuming there'd been one, of course."

"The other one, too," Henry offered, gesturing toward the fourth tunnel off the cavern. "After we got blocked in that one, we checked this one. Same-o, same-o."

"What did you find in here?" Ethan asked; he was looking at Greg again and speaking about the cavern. "Anything of value?"

"Not really," the Air Marshall confessed. "There's some equipment we could take with us. Cooking utensils ... some tools ... some metal fittings that might come in handy somehow."

"Final Days," Henry said. When the others looked at him, he explained, "Final Days ... the post-apocalyptic game app." Still, he got nothing from the others but silent stares. "Your character runs around exploring places, and along the way he--" Henry looked to Gail, correcting, "--or she gathers things that one might otherwise think is just junk ... but at some future time, he finds he needs to open a door or recreate a handle or make a radio work or..."

He went silent, looking for reactions.

"We should get out of here," Greg suggested. He looked to Ethan and Gail, asking, "Can we continue our little trek through your tunnel, or--"

"No," Ethan cut in. He looked to Gail for her support, then explained, "The mountain drops off steeply."

The four of them headed back the way they'd come, taking with them a few relics they thought might come in handy later, playing their own little game of Final Days. Just as with Ethan and Gail's return from their north tunnel, the trek back to where they'd first arrived at the complex was notably faster. But when they arrived at the exit, they paused at a sight they'd been fearing: another storm.

"We should stay the night here," Lenny said. He looked off to the southwest at the dark clouds. A flash of lightning cracked across the sky. He opined, "It might not reach us, but it's only a handful of hours until dark anyway, and I'd rather be here in if it does."

Greg looked around for other opinions. In the end, it was decided to return to the first wide section in the tunnel, build a fire, and ride out the night.

(OOC: With PennySaver's reply to this -- presuming she has a reply to it -- this will bring these 5 characters up to the Day 4 nighttime timeline. The only other midday timeline for Day 4 is the one for Ihaka and Rachel. Once it reaches the evening, all of our characters will be in the same timeline. That should make reading and writing scenes easier for us and any of you reading us.)
 
Ihaka Henare with Rachel Hendricks

Day 4 (continued)
Midday, on the East Beach

When Ihaka asked her purpose for being here on the East Beach, pleasure or business -- aka fishing -- Rachel told him, "Um ... both I guess. Enjoying the coral reef ... but if I had that speargun you're talking about..."

"I'll get it," he said without hesitation. He turned and headed back the direction from whence he'd come. He stopped on a higher mound of dry sand and donned a pair of tight-fitting boxer-briefs, then jogged across the sand to the tree line. He gathered some things there -- more clothes, a small bag, and the speargun -- and jogged back to Rachel again. He neared her closer this time, stopping when he was close enough to hold the gun out to her.

"It's not much," he said, "but it's powerful enough to kill a Wahoo." He looked for recognition of the fish's name on Rachel's face. He thought he saw it, so he didn't go in depth about the species except to say, "You don't normally find them up so close to the shore, but I got it about two hundred yards out there." He pointed seaward, continuing, "They can get up to 8 feet, 180 pounds. Mine was about half that length and a third that weight. You might have had some of it last night...?"

Spearing the Wahoo had been quite a feat, Ihaka knew. His gun was rudimentary: he'd made it from a section of young bamboo pole he'd cut here near the beach; some 50-pound fishing filament he'd gotten from one of the castaways who was a fishing enthusiast; and a length of exercise resistance band another passenger had had in her luggage.

In exchange for their help, Ihaka had given them a larger piece of the fish after he'd cooked it back at the camp; the rest had been distributed at dinner until it had disappeared, which hadn't taken long. He'd speared another pair of fish that same day, but they'd been small and unremarkable.

"Shall we?" he asked Rachel, gesturing a thumb toward the ocean.
 
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