A Little Island Getaway

Author's Note

This story has a lot of characters. I included a handy reference at the end, just in case I confuse you. Sorry in advance.

Prologue: The Flight

Steve sighed as he finally sat down in his seat. He was on his way back home. Tired from a long trip, he allowed his eyes to close. Getting to the plane had been the hard part. Now that he was finally inside, he could relax. It was a night flight and he was sure he could get some sleep. The thick hull offered him a comforting sense of insulation from the heavy rain outside.

Even though Steve enjoyed getting away every now and then he really did miss the wife and kids. They had had their firstborn as a bit of a surprise and had been forced to marry young. The union was still strong, however, despite the drudgery of everyday life robbing it of much of its passion.

On trips like these it would be easy for Steve to find a woman for hire, but he had never strayed. Strippers, yeah, but no prostitutes. He knew some of his colleagues did it. Steve was a bit of perv, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was his active imagination that helped him get more out of his fantasies, and thus made it easier for him to stay faithful in real life.

Come to think of it, it was strange that none of his colleagues were on this flight. The plane seemed unusually empty.

Despite his oh so chivalrous nature, Steve had noticed one of the flight attendants. Look but don't touch, right? Stewardesses always looked good but this one was exceptionally cute. She wasn't outrageously tall or thin but she had a radiant smile. The brunette's green eyes had almost hypnotized Steve as she greeted him on his way in.

A sudden onset of shrill laughter and loud conversation stirred Steve from the edge of sleep. The cabin was filling up with a full range of ridiculously sexy women. Their long, lush manes and their silky skin tones ranged from darkest chocolate to a most evanescent vanilla, spanning all the joyous colors of humanity in between.

They did not come in all shapes and sizes, though. No. All of them were, in fact, fairly similar in build: slim, trim, and blessed with ample bosoms. There was lots of tight jiggle, you know, when you can just tell a woman has exceptionally firm tits even through clothes.

Steve found himself very much awake as he watched this United Nations of goddesses stretch and bend, stowing away their hand luggage. The girls were a vivacious bunch, filling the whole plane with an energy Steve was not prepared for.

They were all pretty much in their twenties. Most of them wore somewhat practical clothing, dressed for comfort, but all of it was still sexy and tight. There were lots of tank tops and not many bras.

Some wore short skirts. One of them even wore just a bikini as a top. Steve could not look away. He felt a rush of blood in his groin.

A blue eyed older blonde in a sleek gray business suit came to Steve. She smiled at him and didn't seem to judge him for staring. She was just as hot as the rest of them. The tiny little wrinkles around her eyes were barely noticeable, and, if anything, only added to her charm. It was hard to tell how much older she was even supposed to be.

"Hello. I am Gretchen. I'm sorry for the girls but they can be a bit wild, ja? We are the bikini model contest and we are on the press tour, for the publicity. The girls come from the whole world," she said.

"No problem at all. Are you in the competition, too?" Steve said.

She chuckled. "No sir. I'm too old for this now. But I did win, back in the day. I am now the tour manager."

She extended her hand.

"Steve. Nice to meet you, Gretchen. And your girls." Steve gave himself major points internally for being able to catch her name, with all the distractions going on.

Another blonde popped up from under Gretchen's arm. The most photogenic set of abs Steve had ever seen presented themselves to him as the girl stretched toward the overhead compartment. Another thing Steve could not miss were her breasts.

Her top was tight and her nipples poked through. The boobs themselves were just floating there, despite her obvious lack of a bra. They were incredibly firm for their tantalizing size.

That much was true for pretty much all the other girls, too, but this one had her magical rack so close to Steve now it completely dominated his attention. He could smell her perfume, and the angle was so steep he could almost see up her top from below.

"Hi Steve. I'm Katie, Miss USA. Looks like we're sitting next to each other," she said.

Steve looked around. The plane was still half empty, but he certainly didn't mind. Look, but don't touch, right? He started to get up, to let Katie past.

"No no, don't bother. I used to be an athlete. I can handle it," she said, with a grin on her magazine cover face.

Despite her high heels, Katie lifted a long, slim leg over Steve, with the grace of a dancer. Her tight little ass was wrapped in jeggings, strikingly plump and succulent for such a compact thing. Steve had to fight hard not to reach for it as it passed right over his lap.

It was all a bit much, but he survived. Even his smile remained somewhat natural, he hoped.

Things eventually settled down. Some of the girls were acting all giggly and girly but others acted more mature. Katie was the latter. Her full, golden blond hair reached all the way to her lower back and it had a soft, natural waviness to it.

She turned out to be a genuinely nice and down to earth person, and after some small talk, Steve was able to relax again.

Even the one girl wearing just the bikini top eventually put on a loose, thin tank top over it. The plane lifted off into the stormy night, and when the lights went down, Steve fell asleep quite easily.

His dream was a strange black void. Somehow, it was even darker and emptier than normal nothingness. There was a presence there, though. He could not see anyone, but the entity felt feminine. There was a faint scent of flowers and Steve almost felt like he could hear some whispers. A lady was calling to him.

Just as the voice was getting clearer, Steve woke up to a deafening roar. It was the wind, and the wail of the engines. There was smoke everywhere. The plane pitched and rolled in jet black darkness. Steve flapped around like a ragdoll, hanging on by his seat belt. People screamed in terror, but drowned out by the cacophony. Rain hit his skin, or something wet did. Hot, orange flames flashed amid the acrid fumes.

For a brief instant, Steve's hand touched something soft and lovely. He found himself hoping it had been Katie's breast. It would have been a nice last thing to ever touch, right before you die.

Slowly, the noise and terror began fading away, along with Steve's consciousness. Was he under water, or still in the air? A strange, purple glow spread all over his vision, and little lights flashed, almost like stars. The purple glow smelled of flowers.

Day One

Steve heard the ocean and felt the hot sun on his cheek. He could see the bright red inside his closed eyelids. He moved a hand to cover his eyes and opened them carefully.

He was lying on a gently winding tropical beach. The ocean was a beautiful teal and he could hear the waves crashing in at a gentle rhythm, despite the relatively calm seas. There were parts of the plane on the beach and in the water.

He was in a sheltered, natural cove. There was a cliff jutting into the sea in the distance. Seagulls were screeching. Steve wasn't sure if that was a good sign, or not.

Steve sat up and moved his limbs. Nothing was broken, or even that sore. He spotted someone near the waterline and started jogging toward them.

As he got closer Steve could tell it was Katie. Her shirt and jeggings were torn but he recognized them, and her beautiful, blond hair.

She was lying on her side, almost as if posing for a photo. The position emphasized her long legs and the curve of her hip. Her hands were under her head, as if she was sleeping. The torn shirt gave Steve a tantalizing glimpse of those amazing breasts of her. He could almost see a bare nipple.

Steve hesitated as he got closer. Should I touch her? What if she's dead?

He knelt next to her but then froze again, in admiration of her beauty. A faint hint of that purple glow arose at the edge of his vision again. The wind carried the scent of flowers as a voice whispered to him. "So beautiful. Touch her. She is for you."

Unable to stop himself, Steve reached for one of Katie's full, juicy breasts. The firm marvel was just aching for his touch. It begged to be held and felt.

At the final moment, Katie stirred and her body shifted. Steve's hand touched her shoulder instead. Her eyes opened. There was a moment of confusion but then she smiled.

"Steve?" she said.

"Are you alive?" he said.

"Yeah, I think so. How about you?"

"Definitely. I'm up and walking around, and everything, already."

"What happened? Where are we?"

"I'm pretty sure the plane crashed."

Steve helped her up and they surveyed the beach together.

Katie did her best to fix her clothes but there was only so much she could do. There was too much boob and too little fabric to cover everything. Katie soon realized she was just making it worse and stopped yanking on her top. Steve very much enjoyed the show while it lasted.

They headed toward the middle of the cove and soon saw more bodies in the water. Katie did not hesitate. She dove right in and shouted for Steve to take Gretchen. Katie swam for another woman herself. Steve took off his shoes and shirt and followed Katie into the ocean.

One of the women was indeed Gretchen, the blond German tour manager. The other woman was a smaller Asian girl, probably Japanese. Their clothes were also suggestively torn, for some reason. Steve had no time to admire the sight, though. He and Katie pulled the women onto dry sand.

Katie felt the Asian girl's neck for a pulse and then bent down for CPR. It was a real kiss of life because she woke up right away.

Steve took a look at Gretchen. Her shirt was open and Steve could see she was just as fit as the younger women. Her beasts were definitely bikini-model-sized, too, and right now, they were doing their best to escape her fancy bra. She was already breathing so Steve wasn't sure what to do.

He decided helping her modesty was better than just staring, so he did what he could to tuck her puppies back in. Katie and the Japanese girl just stared at him as he awkwardly groped Gretchen's chest. He shrugged his shoulders at them apologetically.

Right as Steve was done manipulating her bosom, Gretchen woke up. She gave a little moan, the kind which was sure to stir Steve's soul.

Gretchen was about the same size and shape as Katie, but not as athletic. Gretchen's facial features were sharper. She had blue eyes while Katie's were green. The age difference seemed minor, but Steve didn't even think about asking. Either Gretchen was still relatively young or she was remarkably fit for her age.

Steve stared as Gretchen tried to get her ruined skirt to perform any kind of function anymore. She eventually gave up. She glanced at Steve, sighed, and tossed the skirt aside. She sat down and took off her stockings, too. Then she took her shirt off and fashioned that into a skirt, instead. That left her only with her fancy bra for a top.

Steve determined Gretchen's boobs were just a little bit bigger than Katie's. Gretchen also had her platinum blond hair tied into a ponytail while Katie's more golden blond locks flowed free.

The other girl was Yukiko, and she was indeed from Japan. She was every bit the bikini model, despite being tiny. If anything, her delicate frame made her bouncy boobies look even bigger. She had an ideal body.

Yuki's simple, thin dress had split along the sides and its material was quite translucent when wet. She was wearing a bra underneath, but it was easy to see she wasn't wearing any panties. Maybe she'd lost them, or maybe she'd never worn any to begin with.

Either way, her neatly trimmed little landing strip was impossible to miss through the wet fabric of her dress. No amount of adjusting was going to help her with that.

The group made sure everyone was unharmed and then took stock of their situation -- three gorgeous bikini models and one very average, somewhat flabby Steve.

They were ready to head on.

The next stunning beauty they ran into was yet another blonde. Blonde number three. She was the one who had worn only a bikini top on the plane. She was already awake, and pulling someone from the water.

The girl she was rescuing was like a princess from the Arabian Nights tales.

Gretchen and Katie ran in to help. There was some general boob overflow all around, once again, as the girls handled each other.

Once everyone was safe, the new girls joined the group. The third blonde was Molly, from Australia. She was even more fit and athletic than Katie. Their bodies were otherwise pretty similar. Molly's demeanor, however, was definitely different. She was more rough and ready, a bit of a tomboy, definitely on the sportier side of bikini modeling.

If it weren't for the obligatory, big bikini boobs, she might have passed for an actual athlete. "G'day mate, how you going," she greeted Steve, while she adjusted her bikini top. Her hair was a natural straw blond, and curlier than the others'. She was also more tanned than Katie, or Gretchen, or Yukiko.

The Arabian princess was naturally tan. For a bikini model, she seemed quite shy, but maybe it was just the situation. She had a definitely exotic quality -- Hellenic or maybe even Arabic -- to her. She had to abandon a torn shirt, too, and carried on in just her bra.

The princess's skirt had survived just fine, but it just so happened to have been scandalously tiny to begin with. She kept quiet so Steve didn't catch her name.

It was getting impossible for Steve not to stare at something. There were too many long legs, too many firm asses. Why the hell are they all swaying like that when they walk? They're all professional models, maybe they just can't help it.

Soon, the group found the rest of the participants of the bikini competition. They were all spread around a portion of the beach, some still working, but others just taking it easy, chilling out on the sand.

One of them was Anastasia, from the Ukraine, Katie told Steve. Anastasia was a brunette. She was lounging on a beach towel, taking in the sun, while shouting commands at the other girls who were still hauling people and supplies from the sea. Steve took an instant dislike to her attitude. No one else seemed to like her, either. She radiated an aura of general bitchiness.

Goes without saying, she was gorgeous, though. She wasn't as athletic as Katie or Aussie tomboy Molly, but she definitely had a body for bikini modeling. She was made from that same, general mold of tall, thin, and busty.

"Anastasia, why aren't you helping?" Katie said.

"I no swim, darling."

"You could still help. And how can you be a bikini model if you can't even swim?"

"I no work. I model because I am beautiful. Put man to work," Anastasia said, pointing at Steve.

"Hi. I'm Steve," he said.

"Good for you. Now get me lotion, and maybe I let you watch me put it on," she said.

Steve had no answer to that. Molly, Gretchen, and Yukiko were already heading off to help the others.

"Where did you even get that bikini from?" Katie said.

"All our bikini is there," Anastasia said, and waived her hand toward one of the piles of luggage nearby.

Katie headed there and Steve followed her. There was a huge pile of bikinis. She rummaged around until she found a top that was to her taste. "Um, do you mind?" she said.

Steve blushed and mumbled something. He turned and headed for the waterline, where the United Nations of Boob were still conducting their salvage operation. He did his best not peek too much as Katie pulled her torn top off behind him.

Molly stood out as a swimmer and an athlete among all the girls. There was a certain joy in her every motion. It was easy to tell she really enjoyed being physically active.

Later, the group had gathered everything they could from the sea. They had the beginnings of a campsite near the treeline, where there was more protection from the sun and the ocean gale.

Their haul from the sea included a volleyball net and a few balls. There were lots of beach towels and sunscreen. Then there was the aforementioned mountain of bikinis. Almost no other clothing was anywhere to be found, though. A whole vat of sexual lubricant had somehow survived. Luckily, there was some canned food and fresh water, too. Still, it was a bizarre haul.

Everyone gathered around in a circle. Gretchen took the lead since there were only a few outsiders there: two flight attendants -- including Lisa, the beautiful one Steve had noticed in the plane -- and Steve himself, of course.

Gretchen made introductions but Steve did not bother with all the names. He knew it would take a while before he could remember all of them.

Any one of these heavenly creatures on their own, he would have remembered for the rest of his life, but in a group like this, their names were as meaningless as anyone's. A few of them did make an impression, though.

Francine was from France. She was thin, pale, and lithe, but still tallish. She was an ethereal beauty, angelic even. Her hair was a pale brown. She seemed like a nice person, but young, and she smiled at Steve. Francine had the smallest boobs out of any of the models but there was still a lot there. She could have been a C-cup while the others were more in the DD-range and up, but Steve didn't really know bra sizes by eye.

A girl called Grace was a natural ginger, from Ireland. She was down to earth and approachable, but Steve mostly noted her for the color of her hair. Not that she wasn't ridiculously hot, too, same as everyone.

Then there was Priya. She was from India. She was dark and intense. She kept insistent eye contact with Steve, almost as if she was measuring him up, for something. Steve had no idea what she wanted. Either way, her gaze was heart stopping. Even in a sea of cover girls, her intensity stood out.

She was one of the thinnest of them. Her body was tight, firm and sinewy. She was not fitness-fit, like the blondes, but her lean musculature had definition. Despite that, she had the perfect amount of curves where it mattered: around her hips and inside her bikini top. Priya's relatively wide shoulders and excellent posture enhanced her hourglass figure.

Steve hardly noticed her body, though, because of her face. Her sharp and striking features were crowned with a pair of the most intense brown-green eyes Steve had ever seen. They were big, almond shaped, and deliciously exotic.

They were just a few. All in all, there must have been almost twenty bikini models there.

Lisa the flight attendant was acting shy. She was beautiful, but in a more normal way. Her body looked absolutely delicious. She had lost most of her uniform so it was easy to tell she was just as fine as the models, just not as long and lean.

When it was his turn, Steve introduced himself as a husband and a father of two. This earned him some more sympathy from the girls. Lisa the flight attendant was married, too, and Gretchen told everyone she was divorced. None of the models were married.

Steve asked them if they had seen anything unusual, like some purple haze in their vision, but no one said they had. None of them remembered anything from the crash. Steve asked if any of them thought it was strange that he was the only man to survive, but all of the bikini contestants were there. Why was no one hurt? Where was everyone else?