Caribbean Castaways

Cob wanders aimlessly for a few steps and then says, "I'll need to look where I'm going. Otherwise, I'll get us lost."

"On this little island?" she smiles. "Just head to the helicopter, then turn towards the fire."

Andromeda nuzzles his neck, while he walks them to the camp bed, then lowers her directly onto the ground-sheet.

"I'll just stoke the fire. Don't go anywhere," Cob says.

"I can't. I'll get sand on my feet."

She straightens the bedding, then lays on her back, on the open sleeping bag. Naked to the heavens.

With the fire burning brighter, Cob returns to Andromeda's feet, then kneels on the foot of the sleeping bag, leaving his own feet in the sand. She watches his face, austerely moonlit on one side, while his other has a lively warm glow, illuminated by the revived fire. He leans forward, bracing himself on his arms, before lowering his chest onto her belly. Her skin is still cool from her dip.

Cob's head is level with Andromeda's breasts, so he starts with some oral attention on her nipples. Licking around her areolas and sucking on her nipples.

"Hmm, salty," he comments, while changing sides.

She seems to like his gentle nibbling the most. He doesn't want to overdo it, so he brings his lips down her sternum, towards her navel.

"Shuffle up a bit, please," he asks.

"Are you going where I think you're going," she replies, while moving up the bed.

"Uh-huh, I'm going to make you see stars."

Andromeda's laugh turns into a moan, as Cob licks her labia for the first time.

She has been wanting this since yesterday, but was not sure why. She has heard of Sigmund Freud's theories of sexual attraction. Cob doesn't look like her father, but his manner is comforting and familiar to her. There's a definite father-figure aspect to it. A feeling that none of the other 'older-men' in her life induce. But there's more to it. The self-assured confidence Cob has, attracts her. A little aloof, he's not the type to pester her for an autograph, or anything like that. But when she showed an interest in flying, his attention to her was total - patiently answering her every question. Just like a father, she realizes. So maybe it is all Freudian, she smiles. Sigmund must be looking down at us, chuckling, right now.

Cob is starting to get results, her hips are rocking and her moans are more regular now. As she squirms and raises her right knee, he takes the opportunity to reach up past her thigh and find her breast. He gently pinches her nipple between his fingertips, causing her back to arch up.

Her clitoris is erect and easily found with his tongue, now licking around the base of it.

"Yes, there! Don't stop," Andromeda urges, before falling back into moans.

Cob is experienced enough not to need her instructions, but appreciates the feedback. He keeps going until the moans become gasps, a jiggling of her pelvis, then a cry of joy as her orgasm arrives. Andromeda sees no reason for restraint, they're miles away from anyone, so she doesn't hold back on vocalizing her pleasure.

Cob eases his stimulation, moving his tongue away from her clitoris to lick at the seeping fluids. Soon, this becomes too sensitive for Andromeda, so she twists her hips a bit, letting him know she is satisfied.

The position is awkward for Cob. His legs are parted, and bent, to keep his knees off the dreaded sand. So, he gratefully moves up her body a little, to place his ear on her belly. He listens as her heartbeat slows, pleased with the opening act.

"Oh, God, I do see stars," Andromeda says, her little giggle bouncing Cob's head.

"Come up further," she asks. Then wriggles down the bed herself, as Cob lifts his body to move.

When they are aligned, Cob settles onto her and they resume kissing, tenderly.

"Hmm. You were busy down there," she says, licking her lips. "I owe you one. But right now, I want you inside me."

"With pleasure," he whispers. Then reaches up to the corner of the ground-sheet, where he left the strip of condoms, and tears off one sachet.

While he's upright, kneeling between Andromeda's knees, she asks, "So, why do you have condoms in your first-aid kit?"

"Lots of reasons. Mostly for finger injuries, to keep a gauze wrap clean, or as a splint. You can also tie them around larger bandages, on limbs. Protect electronics. Keep dirt out of gun barrels. Use them as a water canteen, or, inflate them for buoyancy... I think soldiers just make up practical uses for them to keep them in the supply chain. But they're best used for their original purpose."

"Hmm," she agrees, as the newly protected Cob leans over her, once more.

Cob works on their alignment. The condom masks some of his sensation, but Andromeda's engorged vestibule makes for an easy target. He rubs himself past her vaginal opening twice, distributing some lubrication, before angling himself for entry. With some gentle pressure, the head of his penis slides within her, and he hears her inhale. He withdraws and repeats the movement.

"Yes. Deeper," she implores.

Cob is being cautious. He is not overly endowed, but Andromeda looks so petite beneath him. He commences with some half-strokes, slowly working deeper, while watching her face for any sign of discomfort.

Andromeda is the first to break eye contact, closing them, as the sensation of touch takes precedence over vision. Her face could be mistaken for agony, if it weren't for the joyful whimpering, and the embrace of her calves urging him deeper.

Andromeda is enjoying this, like no previous coupling. Her prior sexual encounters have always had associated complications. Did they really like her as a person, or are they in love with the concept of a pop star? How will she get rid of him, after? Were the paparazzi spying on them? Could a longer-term relationship survive the intense public gaze? Does he even know what he's doing? But sex here, with Cob, had none of those worries. It's even simpler than 'friends with benefits'. They're just two kindred spirits, passing the night away in surreal circumstances. Tomorrow, they will return to their diversely normal lives. Well, with a smile on their faces, she concedes.

Cob is pacing himself. He loves the sight of her squirming and whimpering beneath him, in the moonlight. A vision he will remember for all his days. He wants to savor it. Andromeda is becoming more vocal again, and her legs are gripping tighter. Her moans of pleasure building, like they did earlier under his oral stimulus. He keeps going at a steady pace.

A quivering starts in her pelvis again, the build-up to orgasm he recognizes from before, a rocking that must be habitual to her. He increases speed, making sure he is maintaining all the contact points, on each stroke. This fulfills her need, inducing a longer and more-intense orgasm than before. Cob allows himself to climax, too. It doesn't take much, just a relaxation of his self-restraint, while he looks down upon the beautiful young woman who has opened herself to him.

Their moans overlap, as their sexual organs remain pressed together, convulsing and quivering as their ecstasy subsides. Cob remains above her, with his elbows locked, not wanting to smother his diminutive partner. As their breathing slows, he opens his eyes again and sees glistening trails running down her temples.

"Are you okay? You're crying," he says.

"I'm elated. I think it's just been an overwhelming day."

She smiles up at him, and he leans down to kiss her forehead. Her lips are too awkward to reach, while their genitals are united.

He can feel himself softening, so he pinches the base of the condom while he withdraws. Then takes a few breaths.

"Sorry, I can't leave rubbish at a campsite. I'll just take care of this. And the fire," he says, while also collecting the condom's wrapper.

Cob stands, walks to the fire, then drops the waste into the sachet the fried rice came in.

While he's dragging more of the log into the fire, Andromeda says, "Ooh, another satellite! That's four-to-one, you've got some catching up to do."

Cob brushes his hands clean as he walks back to the bedding. "I think you've won. It's getting late now, so you'll only be able to see them low in the west. At midnight, we won't see any at all, the whole sky above us will be in the shadow of the Earth, until it gets closer to dawn."

"Well, you lie on your back this time. I want to snuggle," she says, moving to the side of the mattress.

When he's settled, Andromeda lies at his side, with her head on his shoulder and her left leg hitched over his. Cob enjoys the feel of her bosom, pressed against his ribcage. He reaches around her back and strokes the side of her breast with his fingertips, while his right hand covers her left, flat against his chest.

"How much time do you spend in Miami, compared to Nassau?" she asks.

"About half-and-half."

Andromeda is thinking. She doesn't want this to be a one-night stand. Or is this just post-coital bliss, confusing her? No, she decides, she's going to miss Cob. It's not the sex - although, that's fantastic - but she doesn't foresee fucking him in the back of a limo, after a concert. It's their conversations she'll miss. His teaching, and guidance. It's a type of love.

Cob's body twitches, so she presses against him, more firmly.

Love... like a father's... 'That Freud fucker is laughing at me again,' she tells herself. Maybe talking on the phone will be enough? Lots of girls live remotely from their father-figure. But most girl's father-figures are their actual father.

"Do you get up to Boston at all?" she asks, but is answered with only deep breathing. So she goes back to her thoughts, which turn to dreams as she, too, falls asleep.

~

Andromeda wakes, later in the night. She's not sure of the time, but the moon has moved substantially. She feels some dampness under her cheek, and moves the hand to wipe her mouth, waking Cob.

"Sorry, I think I was drooling on you," she says.

"It's gotten cooler, finally," he replies. "The fire is too far away to do much, but I might get up and stoke it, just to keep it going."

"Okay."

As he stands, Andromeda rearranges the sleeping-bag, so they'll be able to flip it over their bodies.

When he returns, Andromeda directs Cob onto his back again, then straddles his waist.

"We should warm up a bit first," she smiles. "And you've got a schedule to keep." She waves another condom packet in her fingers.

"Such a demanding customer," he says.

Andromeda moves down his legs and is blowing on his flaccid penis, then kisses the sensitive skin on either side of his pubic bone. When she notices his erection starting to grow, she begins using her swaying breasts to tease the area. This gets a rapid response and soon, she is parting her breasts with his erection, then circling the glans with her nipple. She is rewarded with a moan of pleasure from Cob.

She sits up and tears open the packet. Tossing it into the corner of the ground-sheet, as she orients the condom by touch. She pinches the center and aligns it with Cob's erection, unrolling it down the shaft. Then shuffles forward on her knees and mounts him in one steady movement, moaning when she bottoms out.

After a few deep breaths, she begins rocking her pelvis and lifting off him slightly, before repeatedly settling onto his groin, sheathing his penis fully inside her.

"There's a breeze, I'm getting cold up here," she says, before leaning forward and straightening her legs.

Andromeda rolls to her right, taking Cob with her, so they are both on their side. Her left leg is hooked up and over his thigh, allowing her to choose the best angle of penetration, as Cob begins to thrust into her. Cob's arm is across her hip, grasping her buttock as leverage.

Andromeda isn't distracted by other thoughts, this time. Maybe her sleeping mind processed those. Maybe she isn't fully awake. Her thoughts are only for the here-and-now. The smell of her partner, his clutch on her ass, and the exquisite pressure across her clitoris, as his penis penetrates her. She is going to come quickly.

Cob is watching the signs. Her breathing is deepening, her moans getting louder, and more frequent. This time, her telltale pelvic jiggle is more of a thrusting motion.

"Oh," she gasps. But she is not there, yet. Cob is not quite there, either. So he keeps thrusting into her, squeezing the firm flesh in his hand. Andromeda tilts her head back and moans loudly, as her body spasms against him. The beauty of her orgasm pushing him over the edge.

They remain pressed together, for a while, panting. Cob releases her cheek to rub her flank. Then, Andromeda rolls onto her back.

"Fuck me," she says.

"Again? You might have to wait until morning."

She laughs, heartily. "You always make me laugh. You're not even that funny - they're like... not funny," she finishes. She almost said 'dad jokes,' before catching herself.

When their heart rates have settled, Andromeda turns her head towards Cob.

"I want to see you after all this," she starts.

Cob just watches her.

"Not for sex - you're too old for a boyfriend - but I like you. I don't want to lose you. Could you treat me like..."

"Like what?" he asks.

"Like a daughter?" she finishes.

They stare at each other.

"Could I call you on Father's Day? Or when I need advice? Maybe, walk me down the aisle, if I ever marry?" she continues.

There are tears in her eyes again.

"I would like that, very much," he answers. Affection in his own eyes.

They hug.

"But hold that thought," Andromeda says, "there's one more condom to go. We can use that in the morning."

"Then let's get cleaned up for bed," he says.

Cob gets up to dispose of the second condom. And, somehow, there is sand in the sleeping bag that needs to be shaken out. However, soon they are in bed again, spooning, Andromeda being enclosed tenderly by Cob. The sleeping bag covering them both, against the cool of the night. The couple are soon asleep, until dawn.

~

The light of dawn awakens Cob first. Andromeda is nestled deeper into the sleeping bag. She is catching up on her sleep deficit, from the past few days of early starts.

Cob doesn't recall when he last awoke with a woman in his arms. At least three years, he figures. Fiona, his occasional sexual-partner in Nassau, seldom stays the night with him. Although, when she finds someone rich to sleep with, then she'll stay. A high-roller at the casino, or a yacht owner, cruising the islands without their wife onboard, are her usual targets. Cob is more of a fall-back partner, during winter, or through a hurricane, when business is slow and they're both in need of some companionship.

He needs to go to the toilet, but that can wait. For now, he'd prefer to enjoy the warmth of Andromeda's body, and the smell of her hair. They had both straightened in the night, Cob rolling more onto his back, Andromeda had followed. He can see the profile of her face, and watches her eye dart about, behind closed lashes. She is dreaming.

He's lying there, contentedly, when he hears a whine. It's not an insect, more of a distant roar.

Possibly a jet, he considers. It would have to be coming from somewhere down low in South America; like Uruguay, or Argentina. There aren't any direct flights from Africa. Venezuela and the Eastern Caribbean are only three hours away - and nobody departs at three o'clock in the morning. He listens for longer and the sound becomes familiar.

"Fuck!" he says. "Wake up, Kaitlyn."

"What? What's wrong?" Andromeda asks, drowsily.

"They've sent a helicopter. Get dressed," he says, while flicking the sleeping bag off.

"Shit! Shit!" Andromeda repeats, standing naked and looking about. Then she remembers her clothes are on the passenger seat of the Bell, and runs towards them.

Cob is already there, turning on the radio, while he pulls on his shorts.

Nothing on the Unicom channel. He recognizes the sound now. It's his EC-120 Eurocopter. His business partner, Kirk, must be flying it. So he switches to his company channel, they usually monitor that as a secondary frequency.

"Kirk, is that you?" he transmits.

"Good morning, Cob, we thought we'd bring you some breakfast," comes the reply. "I hope you're decent. I've got a camera crew and a reporter on-board. I'm coming down through three-thousand. Have you got a place for me to land?"

"Sure do. Use the high spot to the south of the '47, approach from the east. I'll give it the once-over before you land."

"Roger that, we're going to circle a few times to film the little helipad you've chosen there. Shut the doors and collect your washing, I'll be blowing some sand at you."

"Acknowledged. Keep the hovering to a minimum. Don't ingest too much sand into the turbine."

"Roger."

"See you soon. Out."

He starts grabbing the assortment of bags, zipping them closed, and placing them into the cabin.

Andromeda is dressed now, her bikini top is visible through the shirt. She's looking up at the sky.

"Did you find your shoes? They're only a minute or two from landing. They're going to circle the island before landing. And you'd better stand on the bedding, to stop it blowing away."

"Oh, yeah," she answers.

Cob marks a 'H' in the sand, with his heel, as the Eurocopter does it's final orbit. He walks back to the west and gives hand signals to direct the helicopter in, squinting against the spray of fine sand, as it touches down.

As the rotors spin down, Cob notices that Aki is the cameraman, sitting in the front, alongside Kirk. Stepping out of the rear doors are Millie, and another woman who looks vaguely familiar.

Millie runs to him and gives him a hug.

"Hi Cob, I see you survived the night okay," she beams, then runs to Andromeda, for a second hug.

The other woman approaches, wearing heels, he notes, and introduces herself. "Hi, I'm Heather Woodbury. ABC News. You must be Cob," she says, shaking hands. "Sorry, I need to speak to Andromeda first," she follows up, then turns and walks away.

Aki disembarks with his camera. As he walks past he says, "Morning, Cob. Sorry, Kyle's orders. Gotta follow Heather."

At least Kirk stays with him. They discuss the engine failure and recovery options. After seeing the damage, Kirk agrees they'll need a landing-craft style barge to recover the Bell. It can't be repaired in-situ.

As they're talking, he notices Millie kicking sand onto the remains of the fire. 'Oh, shit,' he thinks, as she picks up their rubbish from dinner. He sees her look into the rice sachet and then drop the bag - she's seen the used condoms. The glare she gives him, from thirty paces, is enough to confirm that.

He excuses himself and rushes over to Millie.

"You fucking asshole," she greets him. "She's only nineteen and you couldn't keep your dick in your pants for one night. Fuck you," she says, sternly, but quietly enough so that Andromeda, and the reporter, won't hear. "I was going to stay here; protect your helicopter from souvenir hunters. But fuck that, you can stay! I've chartered this helicopter, and there's not enough seats in it for you." She fingers him in the chest at the end and stomps away, despite the soft sand.

"We've got to get back to Nassau, to catch the Miami flight," she says, urging everyone back to the helicopter. Within two minutes, the Eurocopter is spinning-up again. Andromeda didn't get a chance to say goodbye. Nor does she wave. She just stares at Cob as the downwash increases and she's whisked away. Once again, dancing to someone else's choreography.

Cob watches them depart, in a climbing turn to the right.

"What a pisser," he says, dejectedly. Quoting a line from one of his favorite movies.

~

Epilogue

Kirk returns in the Eurocopter around noon, after delivering Andromeda to Nassau, and refueling. By his own rules, as the chief pilot of their charter company, Cob is grounded until an incident report had been written and reviewed by an external 'check captain.' Cob does assist Kirk to map out the best GPS track through the sandbars, for the landing-craft's approach. But otherwise, for three days, Cob camps on the island, waiting for the vehicle ferry to become available. He is glad to be away from the media circus Kirk describes to him, on his daily visits. Kyle is getting plenty of promotional-mileage, for Andromeda, out of the incident.