Letters from Blackwell Island Pt. 03

I looked down at him and smiled.

"Damn you, Patrick, why do you always know how to say exactly the right thing?" I chuckled.

"I knew paying to kiss the Blarney Stone when I was a lad would be a worthwhile investment!" he responded mirthfully. "Now, are ya gonna ride me "magnificent Irish cock" or not, wo'an? Sure we don't have all night! We need to get some sleep - we've got a long day tomorrow showing my sister around the island!"

I resumed my position and began stroking his penis once more, and smiled as I felt it respond to my touch almost immediately. With both hands I caressed his maleness, simultaneously enjoying the smoothness of his shaft and the tactile orbs inside his smoothly shaved scrotal sac. God, how I love handling his balls! Nothing says "I trust you" more than when a man lets you touch his testicles!

It wasn't long before I brought him to the useable state of tumescence that I craved, and as soon as I was satisfied that he was ready, I mounted him and gasped with joy as I felt him enter me. I did to him exactly what I said I would do, and rode him as though I was taking part in a cavalry charge. For a moment I was even contemplating letting out a war cry as I went into battle!

I don't know if it had anything to do with seeing Niamh naked, or whether it was the late hour, but for some reason Patrick simply didn't seem to be as ready or as willing for sex as I was. Normally I can get him to come in only a couple of minutes, but almost ten minutes had passed since I mounted him, and still he hadn't erupted in me. I didn't want to break the moment and ask him if anything was wrong, but fatigue was definitely beginning to creep in to my limbs.

"Come in me, Patrick," I urged him on as I continued to buck and gyrate my hips around his erection. "Give me your cum, there's a good boy!"

Another minute passed, and still no eruption. Now I really was getting tired.

"This is... turning into... more than just... a quickie!" I panted, on the verge of exhaustion.

"Sorry, Allie," Patrick looked up at me, a little apologetically. "Sure I guess I'm just not quite with it tonight."

Not able to maintain my gyrations any longer I stopped and looked down at him.

"There isn't anything wrong, is there?" I finally decided to ask, if only for my own assurance.

"I'm fine," he answered me softly, and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. "Just a bit... well... feeling a bit weird, what with my sister being here and everything. Sure she's only a few metres away! I don't think I've had sex in the same country as her, let alone in the building next door!"

I couldn't help but find that amusing, but at the same time rather frustrating.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked him. "I was only teasing you about riding you till the sun comes up. Though at the rate you're going it'd probably take that long for you to come anyway."

"Nah, you just go right ahead there, wo'an. Sure I'll be comin' soon - just need a little more time."

"You'd better come soon, or there'll be trouble, boy!" I chided him in a playful manner.

After my brief rest I resumed my fervent riding, and after a couple more minutes of bucking, gyrating, panting and gasping, I finally felt him tense up beneath me. He uttered a few Gaelic words and deep inside me I felt him twitch and throb - just a few seconds more and my efforts would finally be rewarded.

"Urggh-h-h-h! Hah-h-h-h! Oh, Jaysus, Allie! Ah-h-h!" he huffed and snarled beneath me as he came, flooding me with his precious essence.

Several more strong pulses followed over the next few fleeting moments of his orgasm, so brief but so wondrously intense and explosive, and I savoured the joy of watching and feeling him come in me. Then, as quickly as it had come, his climax dissipated and he went limp underneath me, his facial features taking on an expression of blissful satisfaction.

I hadn't reached my own orgasm of course, but that didn't matter really - I'd got what I wanted, and that was enough for me. But Patrick, bless him, doesn't like to leave a job half finished, and so once he'd managed to collect himself he began using his right hand he set about tweaking and rubbing my clitoris, and kneading my breasts and nipples with his left, and coaxed me towards my own orgasm. I was already so inflamed that it didn't take him very long to get me there, and in no time at all I was gasping and crying out on enraptured orgasmic joy.

As soon as my orgasm faded away I tiredly dismounted my husband's prone body and laid by his side where, bathed in the warm glow of each other's bare bodies, we fell into a deeply contented sleep.

In The Red

Over the next couple of days we showed Niamh around the island and its many beauty spots. We even trekked up the volcano (making sure to check that there weren't any coming of age ceremonies going on up there that day - we decided between us that she wouldn't quite be ready to witness that kind of island tradition just yet!) The view from the top of the crater took her breath away, and she remarked that it was the most amazing sight she'd ever seen.

"Wow! Sure I thought Mullaghmore was a pretty view - this is just unreal!" she enthused as she surveyed the three hundred and sixty degree vista.

We also introduced her to some of the friends we'd made - Jenni at the police station, Chas and Taulia, and of course Angela and Toby. It was all going rather well, right up until she noticed something as we passed by in the Mini Moke.

"Why's that area fenced off with red posts?" she asked us.

"Ach! Fer feck's sake!" I heard Patrick grumble behind us.

Of course at that moment I was presented with a moral dilemma - did I tell her exactly why it was fenced off, or should I keep it from her for the time being? In the end, after several moments of careful consideration, I decided that perhaps it would be best if it came from me rather than someone else.

"It's called a red zone," I informed her. "There are several of them dotted around the island."

"A red zone?" she queried in return. "You mean, like a minefield or something?"

"Huh, if only!" Patrick griped.

"Definitely not!" I chuckled. "It's um... well, red zones are places where islanders, as in adult islanders, can go to um... y'know..."

"Fuck each other in the woods," Patrick interrupted. "The good folks here rather enjoy outdoor nookie. Definitely not my scene!"

"Seriously?" Niamh gasped. "They, like, have sex in the woods? Out in the open?"

"Yup!" I confirmed.

"Have you and Patri..."

"Definitely not!" her brother interjected sternly.

"No, we haven't had sex in a red zone," I clarified. "At least not yet," I added with a wink towards my husband in the back seat.

Patrick groaned behind me.

"We have done it outside though," I reminded him aloud. "When we were over on Aina Ahi with Angela and Toby, remember?"

"Oh my god, seriously?" Niamh exclaimed amusedly. "You two had sex outdoors? Jaysus, Paddywhack, sure if Ma knew you'd done that she'd feckin' kill you!"

"Yeah, well she isn't here, is she!" Patrick retorted. "And she never will be!"

"Hey, Paddywhack, you know I'm nothing like our Ma, right?" Niamh responded. "I think the two of you doin' it outdoors is fantastic! It must've been so romantic - the two of you outside surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, boffing each other's brains out!"

"Gah! Would ya just shut the feck up, wo'an!" Patrick scolded.

"Ignore Mr. "I'm too scared and embarrassed to do it in a red zone" over there," I chortled. "It was romantic, if you must know, and yes, I would totally love to do it again, but only if yer man there is up for it too."

"Heh! Sure himself there's always been a bit of a wimp," Niamh chuckled.

"Right! Fuck this!" Patrick glowered, and stepped out of the car.

"Patrick!" I pleaded with him to get back in, fearing he might just march off in huff.

But what actually happened next took me totally off guard.

"Get out of the car, wo'an!" he told me sternly. "I've had enough of you nagging me to go into one of these every time we pass by, so feck it - you and me are going in."

"You mean?" I answered as I stepped out.

"I want to make love with you in this red zone," he said, his voice carrying a tone of uncharacteristic determination. "We're gonna go in there, you and me, and we're gonna have sex and put this thing to bed once and for all!"

He turned briefly to face his sister and pointed at her.

"But you're staying right where y'are, wo'an!" he added sternly, in no uncertain terms that would result in harsh retribution should she disobey.

Patrick grasped my hand and led me in to the red zone - the very same one Jenni Bakeland had shown me during my day out on patrol with her. We managed to find the small clearing where Jenni and I had witnessed Erica and her husband Alvin making love, completely unashamedly before our eyes. It seemed as good a spot as any, so I laid myself down on the bed of leaves that had accumulated there, and opened myself to him in invitation to mount me. I knew this would definitely be a quickie, but maybe one day would lead to a much more leisurely and sensual liaison.

"I... I guess this is it," Patrick said as I spread my legs wantonly.

For a moment I worried that he'd had second thoughts, and all that bravado back at the car was merely for Niamh's benefit. But my husband always has a way of surprising me with his sudden impulses, and so he knelt himself down between my legs and began stroking his cock in order to induce an erection. Maybe it was the sudden rush of testosterone in his bloodstream, or the blast of adrenaline at doing something he considered to the most daring thing any person could ever do, or most likely both, but his penis heeded its master's call in no time at all, and in under a minute he was hard and throbbing and ready to go.

I looked up at him for a moment, admiring his cock in all its fully erect majesty. God, I was so ready for him! And I didn't have long to wait - a few moments later he was on top of me, the drooling tip of his magnificent cock nudging apart my nether lips, and then forcing its way deep inside me.

My heart was already racing, as was his presumably, and in no time at all he was thrusting himself into me - far from feeling daring on my part, it felt like the ultimate communion with nature. This was how our distant ancestors did it - out in the open, surrounded by the plants and animals of the forest, totally unashamed and carefree. In my mind I wasn't at that moment making love with Patrick, we were mating. Yes, mating like two wild animals, a couple of gorillas in a dense African jungle, or two grizzly bears in the Canadian wilderness. It felt amazing!

And I hoped it was feeling just as amazing for Patrick as it was for me, though I couldn't tell for sure at that moment.

He continued to thrust into me like a pile driver, and he huffed and grunted in a manner not to dissimilar to the gorillas in my mind's eye. His roughness and rapidity felt a bit uncomfortable, not to mention uncharacteristic on his part, but I wasn't about to complain - I knew what a big step this was for him, for both of us really, and I didn't want to do anything that might put him off. So I just laid there and enjoyed the moment, for I knew it wasn't going to last very long.

And sure enough, it didn't - but I didn't mind that at all. All of a sudden Patrick's lips curled into an all too familiar grimace, and I felt him stiffen inside me as he reached the point of no return.

"Hmmff-f-f-f! Hah-h-h-h! Oh, jaysus! Fu..." he huffed and gnashed his teeth, and in that moment the primeval rainforest echoed to the sound of Irish maleness in the full throes of climax.

I enjoyed, as I always, always do, the warm feeling of him coming deep inside me, the very essence of his masculinity becoming absorbed into me. I know I might come across sometimes as being a bit flamboyant in how I describe making love to my handsome Irish beau, but I'm sorry I can't help myself - I am a professional wordsmith after all!

His orgasm was over as soon as it had begun - a few spurts, a few grunts, a dozen or so thrusts, and that was that. But I could tell that it was plenty satisfactory enough for him -- and it felt pretty good for me too, even though I wasn't within a country mile of an orgasm of my own.

We kissed for a few moments with our bodies still conjoined in sensual union, his post orgasmic phallus throbbing warmly inside me, gradually returning to its normal state.

"So, how was it?" I asked him tentatively.

I saw him look around, gauging our surroundings and checking if anyone might have seen us.

"I guess it was alright," he hesitantly replied.

"Just, alright?" I prompted him for more. "Take it from me, Patrick, it felt pretty bloody good from down here!"

"You know what I meant, wo'an!" he huffed and rolled off of me.

"Well, we've done it," I said to him as I raised myself up into a seated position. "You and I have finally done it in a red zone - we're definitely native Blackwellers now!"

I looked down between my parted legs and gazed for a moment at the last remnants of his seed that oozed out from within me.

"I guess," he shrugged as he used a tissue from his keike to dab away the excess of his emission from between my legs, and then used a second tissue to clean his penis.

"This is not going to be the last time," I asserted. "Now that we've done it this time, we will be doing it again, no arguments, right?"

"As long as it's not all the time," he answered with a slight sigh.

"Only when I'm in the mood," I said. "Look, you've got to admit, it does feel kind of exhilarating, right? Y'know, getting close to nature and doing it out in the open the way Mother Nature intended?"

"Well, when you put it like that," he acquiesced.

"We can discuss the ins and outs of it all later," I said as consulted my watch. "Your sister will be wondering where we've got to."

"That's if she did as she was told and stayed by the car!" Patrick said as he helped me back to my feet. "If I find out she spied on us while we were screwin' sure I'll give her a slap, so I will!"

As it turned out, she had done as she'd been told, although from the smirk on her face it was obvious that she'd overheard us.

"Jaysus, Paddywack," she chuckled as Patrick resumed his seat in the back of the little car. "You sound like a beast when you come!"

"Ach! Fer feck's sake!" he grumbled.

"Sure I'm only joking, yer big eejit! It actually sounded quite, well, beautiful I guess."

"Beautiful?!?" Patrick scoffed. "In what way could the sound of me humping the missus possibly be compared to... to the sound of the dawn chorus? Or a child's laughter? Or even herself there when she sings?"

"Well, maybe not beautiful in the literal sense," Niamh responded by way of a caveat. "But it was definitely very sexy!"

"Ugh! You are weird, sis!" Patrick replied.

Day Three Hundred and Sixty Five

I simply cannot believe it's been a year since my dear husband and I arrived here on this beautiful, if rather eccentric island. A whole year spent entirely nude, minus a short break when we visited our relatives back home in England and Ireland. Throughout almost all our time on beautiful Blackwell Island, not a scrap of clothing has touched our backs, and after it all, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Writing up my twelfth article of Letters from Blackwell Island was proving to be trickier than I'd imagined it would be. But it wasn't a case of writer's block or anything as dramatic as a near total failure of whatever lobe of my brain governs my ability to pluck words out of the ether and compose them into something that more or less makes sense. It was more a case of just exactly how does one sum up an entire year of one's life in just five thousand words? I know to the lay person that five thousand words may sound like a lot, but trust me, it's a lot less than you might think -- and a lot more difficult than it looks!

It's not just the island that's beautiful, but the people also - this whole place is infused with beauty that defies description. Granted, there's naked bodies openly on display everywhere you go here, but as anybody who has ever been brave enough, like us, to venture into the world of naturism or simply witnessed social nudity in the showers at your local gym or swimming pool changing rooms will tell you, is that the majority of human bodies fall well outside what the so-called "mainstream media" defines as beautiful. I of course refer to the idealised image of naked femininity - slim, tall, flawless skin, hourglass figure, and of course, absolutely perfect breasts. And it goes without saying that applies to the ideal vision of masculinity too - muscular, handsome, broad shouldered, chiseled abs, tight buttocks, and a penis that could be mistaken for a smaller third leg.

Such narrow criteria for what is considered to be beautiful really does not do the human body justice in all its wondrous and infinite variety - it took surrendering all my clothes to reach that conclusion, but I am glad that I have. You see, once upon a time, when I was but a mere slip of a girl in my teenage bedroom, I was just like any other "normal" person - I strived to conform to that lofty feminine ideal, and lusted after men that had achieved their own nirvana-like pinnacle of physical perfection. With the gift of hindsight I can see how damaging it is - not just to me, but to all of us.

I hadn't intended this one to be a tirade against contemporary western standards of beauty and physical attraction, but sometimes you've just got to roll with whatever that creative part of your brain spews out. Still, at least it served as a decent introduction to the rest of the article and had set the ball rolling, but I already knew it would need a lot of trimming down before I would be happy enough to email it to Mags and the team back at Estelle magazine's base in London.

"Hey, sis in law," Niamh said as she entered the room, nibbling on a piece of fresh pineapple.

Even though she'd been with us for a few of days now, seeing my sister in law completely naked did feel rather odd, but I quickly shrugged that thought aside.

"Morning, Niamh," I responded, stifling a yawn and taking a sip of the coffee Patrick had kindly provided.

"Typing up the ol' magazine column there?" she went on.

"Trying to," I answered her. "Sometimes it pours out, other times you need to give the bottom of the bottle a few smacks to get it out!"

"So, what's the creative viscosity like today on the scale?" Niamh chuckled. "Is it pouring like water, or stuck up in the bottle like the thickest ketchup ever made?"

I gave it a moment's consideration before answering.

"Let's just say it's a golden syrup day today," I said with a slight chuckle. "It's coming out, but it definitely won't be rushed."

"I was wondering if I could borrow me brother for a few hours," she continued. "I figured I ought to head into town to buy some souvenirs for the folks, and to get a few postcards written and sent off."

"Sure, he'll be with Jackson in the "man-cave" just make sure you ask to enter before you go in. Male-only spaces are kind of considered to be sacrosanct here."

"What? For real?" Niamh chuckled, presumably amused by the concept that men deserved any kind of private refuge away from their womenfolk.

"It's just considered impolite for a woman to barge in," I clarified. "You just have to knock and ask to enter, that's all. If you must know, it's likewise considered impolite for men to refuse entry when a woman asks to come in."

"Whatever," Niamh smirked, and then turned out of our little apartment to go and find Patrick.