When they arrived at the dock, the beautiful Afro-English maid was waiting with dressing gowns. She had always been rather unfriendly before, but in this moment, she handed the robes to Jesse and Jack with a look of caring empathy.
Jack and Jesse were exhausted. They struggled up the very steep path and stairs until they reached the back lawn. Winston had told them to take a nap and to have a bath. Jack and Jessie agreed that was exactly what they needed.
When they got to their room they found that all of their clothes had been removed from Jay Bird, cleaned, dried and neatly folded. How this has been achieved they did not understand, but they were grateful nonetheless.
After a couple hours of restful sleep, they were awakened by a gentle knock followed by the sound of something sliding on the hardwood under the door. They found an envelope of heavy stock, trimmed in gold. Inside was a note that read: Celebrating your safe return at five o’clock. Come as you are! — Clare.
“‘Come as you are.’ Does that mean naked?” Jack asked, only half-joking.
“I don’t know if we can ever be sure with those two, but I don’t think so. I think we just don’t need to pretend we own evening wear,” Jessie answered with a laugh. She then grabbed one of the towels the maid had laid out, flung open the door and started down the hall in all her naked glory. “Let’s find that bathroom.”
They bathed together in the largest claw foot tub either had ever seen — even in pictures. It took forever for warm water to flow up to the third floor from some unknown region in the bowels of the lower house, but when it finally made it, the water was literally “piping” hot. There was no shower. Jack lathered Jessie’s long blonde hair with French lavender shampoo. He took his time, massaging her scalp and neck, drawing the tension from her. Then he poured fresh water over her head and gorgeous naked body using polished copper pitchers apparently designed for exactly that purpose.
At first they hardly spoke, but Jessie finally broke the ice. “That was pretty wild, huh?” Jessie said. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”
“No. You…?” Jack asked back, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
“No. I guess the real question is, would we ever do something like that, again?” Jessie asked. Jack hesitated. He wanted to tell the truth, but wasn’t sure if it was what Jessie would want to hear. Once again, it was Jessie that filled the void; she could sense Jack’s reluctance to speak first. “I can’t explain it, Jack, but once we climbed aboard their boat I felt an all-consuming desire.”
“You’re always horny,” Jack nervously joked.
“Ha! Yeah…not like this.” Jessie said.
“Do you think they’ll expect more of that before we leave?” Jack asked, feeling his cock fill with blood.
“I think, maybe, I want them to.” Jessie said, without a hint of humor.
At five they headed downstairs. They followed Clare’s note to the letter and were dressed casually. Jessie was in blue jean cut-offs, a red midriff camisole, and flat sandals. Jack was in crisp, white knee length shorts, a pink polo, and Seavees. He fondled the sharp crease in the shorts. “It’s called starch, Jack,” Jessie teased.
Winston and Clare were waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, cocktails in hand. Winston was in a double-breasted navy jacket with gold buttons, white slacks, and that ridiculous captain’s hat. Clare was in a strapless gold gown with a daring neckline and an even more daring slit that ran to the top of her thigh.
“So much for ‘come as you are,’” Jessie said in mock anger.
“But darlings,” Winston replied with a laugh, “This is how we are!”
“You two look delicious,” Clare said with flirtatious eyes, as she handed them their drinks. “You must be famished. Francoise has prepared some lobster appetizers.”
“And we took the liberty of arranging a bit of a show, in honor of you re-joining us.” Winston added. “Shall we?” He said, gesturing toward the salon.
When they entered the large, ornately appointed room, Jack and Jessie momentarily lost their breath. The staff were all out of uniform. Completely out of uniform. Arrayed on a settee, the patterned oriental rug, and a lounge chair were the couples, already engaged in conjugal bliss.
“Morsel?” Clare said, holding a silver tray of hor d’vouers.
“I suppose we should finally make introductions,” Winston said, gesturing towards one couple and then another.
“I believe you have met Cynthia and Thomas,” he said, referring to the lovely black maid and the tall ginger butler. Cynthia was on all fours on the rug as Thomas knelt behind her, fucking her with long strokes. Jack allowed his eyes to take in every detail of Cynthia. She looked straight at him, her mouth agape. He loved the tone of her dark skin, the profound arch of her back, the firmness of her flexing round buttocks. He lingered on the verigated lines at her hips, and the rocking of her breasts as they bounced in counter-time to Thomas’s thrusts. He was lost in fantasy when he heard Winston speak.
“And here we have our amazing chefs, Francoise and Robert,” Winston continued as he led Jack and Jessie around the room. They were on one of the wingback chairs, with Francoise facing away from Robert, her legs thrown over the rolled arms of the chair. Robert was thrusting into her ass, to her apparent delight given her deep, imploring moans. “No one loves to be sodomized more than our dear Chef,” Clare said in passing.
Jessie found herself attracted to both. She wanted to grab Francoise by her wild blonde hair and pull her in for a kiss, then slide her tongue down Francoise’s ripe body until she got to her full, apricot colored bush. Jessie imagined licking and probing Francoise’s clit and wet, empty hole until Robert pulled his long dick from her ass and fed it to Jessie’s mouth. Jessie shuddered at the depravity of her own filthy thoughts.
“And finally, we have Mick and Hilary,” Winston said, passing a hand lightly over Hilary’s back. They were on the sofa. Mick’s sinewy surfer body was stretched out as Hilary rode him, hard, in cowgirl. Her long, sun-lightened brown hair bounced and swayed to the rhythm of her pounding ass. Mick moaned with every down stroke, as he reached up to cup Hilary’s small breasts.
Jack had the sudden urge to take Hilary from behind. Meanwhile Jessie was imagining sitting on Mick’s face while necking with the lithe little surfer girl. Jack and Jessie exchanged a quick panicked glance, as if reading one another’s mind. Have we gone insane?
Winston and Clare led Jesse to a sofa and had them sit next to them. Clare boldly slid a hand over the bulge in Jack’s shorts. To her own amazement, Jessie opened her legs slightly, inviting Winston to cup her denim clad mound. Jack summoned the courage to run his hand along Clare’s exposed thigh, where he found Jessie’s hand had already beaten him.
“I think it is time, darlings,” Winston said.
And with that cue, the couples accelerated toward their finish. Thomas grabbed Cynthia’s hips and hammered into her in staccato time. Francoise put a hand to her hairy blonde pussy as Robert groaned beneath her. And Hilary dug her nails into Mick’s hard chest as she smashed up and down upon his cock. In near unison the men and women moaned, groaned, and whimpered in cascading climax, before collapsing in post-coital exhaustion.
“Lovely!” Clare said, applauding. “Well done!”
“Winston,” she continued, “I think the staff are well deserving of a rest, don’t you? Would you mind, terribly, fetching some more drinks?”
Clare pulled Jack and Jessie close as the looked upon the beautiful couples, collapsed together and still breathing hard.
Winston circulated a tray of fresh martinis. “So what do you think, kids. Was that a good show?” Too stricken with surprise and lust to speak, Jessie and Jack nodded vigorously as they gulped down the bitter gin and watched the loving couples slowly disentangle themselves. “You just let us know when you’re ready to join,” Clare said, giving them each a pat on the thigh.
They had been both dreading, and longing, for that invitation. To Jack’s excitement, Jessie was the first to announce her intentions. She downed the balance of her drink in a single gulp and stood. “I am definitely ready!” She said. In a few strides she managed to discard her clothes and reach Mick, who was still stretched out on the sofa. She dropped her bare, wet lips onto his very willing mouth, while giving Hilary the deepest French kiss she could muster.
“As usual, Jessie speaks for both of us,” Jack said as he stood. Pretty Cynthia was the first to him. Jack flushed with goose flesh as he took her perfect brown body in his arms and gave her pillowed lips a lingering kiss. Francoise rose to pull Hilary away from Jessie’s embrace and lead her over to Cynthia and Jack.
Thomas crawled across the carpet and pulled Jessie from Mick’s active tongue to the floor. Soon she was kneeling before the three men, alternating her mouth and hands over each of their cocks. She heard a familiar moan and glanced over to see Jack in exactly the opposite position, with each lovely servant taking turns sucking his rigid, weeping dick.
Strong hands guided Jessie to her hands and knees and before she realized what was happening, she was being spit-roasted. Robert was fucking her from behind as Thomas and Mick took turns in her mouth.
She heard a loud smacking out-of-time with the sound of Robert’s groin crashing into her naked cunt. When she freed herself from cock, long enough to take a full breath, she stole another look at Jack. Cynthia’s ass and pussy was splayed over Jack’s upturned face, as the voluptuous French chef straddled his cock, giving him a hard, fast fucking. Where had Hilary wandered off to? Jessie wondered for a moment, until she was distracted by Thomas sliding underneath her.
Robert’s cock suddenly left her, leaving her pussy flexing for attention. She then felt Thomas’s member re-fill her. He was longer and thicker than Robert, and the change was exciting. But, then, so was the feeling of a wet tongue probing her asshole.
“Jesus, fuck, this feels good,” Jessie groaned. She bent down to kiss Thomas, enjoying the feeling of his whiskers and the warmth of his mouth.
She tore herself away as she heard the moans of a woman and man. She thought she might get to watch the girls bring her man to climax. Instead she realized the moans were coming from the couch. Winston and Clare were now as naked as the rest of them. They sat with their legs spread. Mick was servicing Winston, sucking his balls and jerking him off. Hilary, meanwhile, was lapping at Clare’s brown bush.
It was then that Jessie felt Robert’s cock head probing at her anus. Jessie didn’t love anal. She didn’t hate it, but she didn’t get-off on it, either. It was strictly a birthdays and special occasions thing with her and Jack. But as turned-on as she was, and with the thorough tongue lashing Robert had just given her, she found herself very much in the mood. She grunted as Robert pushed past her muscle ring, and then moaned deeply as the men alternated in each of her holes.
In time the crescendo of climaxes built, once more. Cynthia’s hips were moving like the drive on an old locomotive as she slid her pussy back and forth over Jack’s nose, tongue, lips and chin. She had turned to face Francoise, and was bracing herself by firmly gripping Francoise’s full tits. That only seemed to aid Francoise, who was clearly on the brink.
Jessie’s G-spot was on fire. She rocked backward and forward trying to get the men as deep within her as possible.
“That’s it. That’s it! That’s it!!!” Jessie babbled, saliva dripping down her chin. Some neurological wire she had never before tripped was pulled taught. Her whole self began to contract in wave after wave of intense spasms. She was in something close to an orgasmic seizure when first Robert, and then Thomas shot their wads into her depths.
Cynthia fell away from Jack in spasms of her own, allowing Francoise to bend down to kiss and lick Cynthia’s juice from his face. They came together, or nearly so, as Jessie heard his familiar howl. Winston and Clare followed, holding their servants heads still as they fucked their faces to their finish.
Everyone lay still for five or ten minutes. Then an apparently practiced orchestration began. Silk gowns were fetched for Winston and Clare, though the others remained naked. Scattered clothing was picked up, pillows were fluffed, drinks were refreshed. Francoise and Robert circulated silver trays filled with tasty treats. Cynthia brought Jack and Jessie some cold water which they gratefully gulped down.
It felt oddly natural to be standing naked with Cynthia. Despite what they had both been through, Jack and Jessie were still quite horny. Jessie gently asked if, perhaps, Cynthia and Thomas might join them in bed later that night.
Cynthia smiled, and said, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“I guess I understand, now, why you all stay here,” Jack said. “I know we will find it hard to leave.”
Cynthia’s smile was suddenly transformed into a pitying frown. “You still don’t get it, do you?” She asked. Cynthia took the pretty couple by the hand and guided them down the hallway. Jessie thought with excitement for the moment that they might get Cynthia to themselves, right there and then.
Rather, Cynthia led them to the library. The walls were lined with leather bound books. A globe and a telescope were in a corner. A chart table and accompanying flat file drawers occupied the center of the room. Cynthia pulled open one of the drawers and pointed Jack and Jessie toward its contents. Neither wanted to draw their eyes away from Cynthia’s smooth, chestnut body, but did as they were directed. Several newspapers lay side-by-side.
Jessie let out a gasp and pulled first one newspaper, then another, for a closer look.
“Holy fuck,” Jack said, as he caught up to Jessie.
Hollywood Reporter, 1935, United Artist Couple Feared Dead, Island Xanadu in Ruins After Hurricane. Black and white pictures showed the island scraped clean, with nothing but splinters and the shattered transom of Talkies strewn about.
International Herald-Tribune, 1956. Groundbreaking Chef and Husband Missing. Their forty-foot ketch had disappeared without a trace somewhere in the Bahamas.
Miami Herald, 1974, Surfing Champion and Bride Lost at Sea. The newlyweds had purchased the thirty-eight foot yacht for their honeymoon.
The Guardian, 1991, British Couple Perish in Tropical Storm. The musician couple had chartered a boat out of Nassau.
Jack and Jessie stared back and forth between the newspapers, each other, Cynthia, and the walls around them, and then speechlessly repeated the cycle three or four times.
“I know,” Cynthia finally said gently. “Believe me, I know. It is very hard to understand.”
“Is this…heaven?” Jack finally managed.
Cynthia smiled warmly, but once again shifted to a sad, empathetic face.
“It can be,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “especially at first.”
She moved closer to Jessie and Jack, and very slowly, very gently fondled them. She lightly gripped Jack’s full, arching member, at the same time she felt Jessie’s wet pussy.
“It would be best if you understood now, that you will never leave here. You will also never be completely satisfied. Desire is constant. And there is nothing you can do to satiate it. There is pleasure; even ecstasy. But it is never enough. It becomes more like Hell, with each passing moment. With tears in her eyes, Cynthia leaned in to kiss them both. “I will see you in your room, later. We can suffer, together.”
Epilogue — 2038
Bianca and Mario secured the lines to the dock and looked about. A large old yacht in perfect condition sat in front of them, but with no signs of life. A white Victorian was visible on top of the hill.
They had been bouncing from island to island on their electric catamaran for a couple years now, avoiding the “Troubles” back in the States. Many of those “troubles” had drifted south, though. Indeed, they had barely escaped pirates just a few hours ago, and had ducked into this quiet cove to hide.
Nervously, they walked the length of the dock with their head on a swivel. When they got to the end, coquina stairs led up the hill through beautifully manicured grounds. After a couple of switch backs they suddenly ran into some gardeners. They were young, and very attractive, and not typically whom you would find doing landscaping on a far flung island.
They were both in white overalls. The woman, a stunning blonde, had rolled up her pant legs to reveal toned, tanned calves. Her zipper was also enticingly low, hinting at cleavage. Her blue eyes sparkled. The man, had wavy brown hair, and Bianca found him quite handsome. But he was also stern looking and unwelcoming.
“Can we help you?” he asked, with sad eyes.
