Letters from Blackwell Island Pt. 03

"So, that was the thing that men "give the island that we women can't" that Lisa was on about?" I asked her.

"A man's semen is literally venerated as the elixir of life," Marea explained. "The earliest Pã'ele settlers regarded it as the very source of life itself. Of course, they had no understanding of how reproduction actually works - they just noticed that when a man ejaculates into a woman she will sometimes end up pregnant and give birth. So they associated men's semen with new life and thought that if it could fertilise a woman, it had the power to fertilise the land too."

"Men's cum as fertiliser," I chuckled. "I like that!"

"So anyway," Marea went on. "Women would regularly encourage their husbands and sons to "sow their seed" into the ground and into the sea in order to pass on their fertility. Sometimes they did it every day, if times were hard."

"By "encourage" do you mean what I think you mean?" I asked.

"They would masturbate their menfolk, yes," she confirmed. "Wives would masturbate their own husbands and sons, but the practice of performing the masturbation ritual so regularly gradually waned over the centuries, and once Henry Blackwell and his fellow mutineers arrived it had evolved into the annual ritual you witnessed earlier."

* * * * * *

The barbecue at Marea and Jackson's went on until long into the evening, and the three of us women made sure to keep our menfolk fed and their drinks topped up, and mother and daughter also serenaded them with traditional songs that gave thanks to Haumea for the menfolk of Blackwell Island. Actually celebrating men just for being men was a truly odd experience, but I simply concluded that it was just another quirk to add to the list about this odd little island in the middle of the Pacific.

"Well, that was an education, I guess," Patrick said as he closed the front door of our apartment later that evening.

"In what way?" I asked him.

"The ritual bathing thing was okay, I guess - it was kind of nice being bathed like that, although the part when you pulled my foreskin back felt a bit strange, especially with Marea and Lisa looking on," he replied, reflecting on the day's events. "But that whole "sowing of the seed" ceremony, holy feck that was totally screwed up! Poor Aiden being wanked off by that priestess woman - sure if it was me in his position I'd have wanted to just curl up and die of shame!"

I explained to him the significance of it all as Marea had explained it to me, and though I sensed Patrick wasn't quite as appalled by it as he had felt initially, I could sense that he was definitely highly sceptical about it.

"But don't you worry," I assured him. "Only unmarried eighteen year old men are chosen for it."

Then I reached down and gently cupped his flaccid manhood.

"Besides, I'm the only woman who gets to play with these," I said to him wantonly and a little tipsily as I fondled his "family jewels". "And there's one last thing I can do to honour my husband on this day of thanksgiving for men."

"And wha-aat would that be-eee?" he gasped as I roused his "man-parts" from their dormant state.

"To sample your seed for myself," I replied as sultrily as I could.

And with that I knelt before him, freed him from his Kani, which due to the effect of the several glasses of wine I'd had consumed earlier, was easier said than done, and engulfed his penis in my mouth. He wasn't yet fully hard, and so to encourage his engorgement I probed and swirled my tongue around in the space between his foreskin and his glans which caused him to gasp and shudder.

"Ó, babaí," he murmured in Gaelic.

It didn't take very long for his penis to respond to that, and in no time at all it was fully hard and gently pulsating in time with his heartbeat.

On Blackwell Island I was surrounded by naked men every day, and seeing penises in all their shapes and sizes was just a normal part of everyday life now, but no man's penis ever really captivated me as much as Patrick's. I could not deny that Aiden and the other young men who had lined up beside him earlier that day had all been heart-stoppingly handsome specimens of naked masculinity, and if I was to have had my choice as to which of them to have in my bed I could never have chosen without wondering forevermore what the others would have been like. But despite them all, I knew deep down in that primal part of my soul that Patrick was, is, and always will be, the only man I could ever wish to grow old with.

"Oh-h-h-h, Allie," he groaned as I fellated him. "You don't have to... ooh-h-h... do this for me, but... ahh-h-h... sure I'm not gonna stop you!"

I briefly withdrew my mouth from his erection and looked up at him.

"Is this really a part of the whole "day of men" thing?" he asked me.

"No," I responded with a smirk. "Just consider it as a "happy ending"," I said.

And then I engulfed his erection once more.

I bobbed my head back and forth, slurping as I took his length into my mouth and down into my throat. Patrick wasn't the most impressively endowed of men, but he was nonetheless plenty big enough for me to accommodate in my mouth. Over the years I've spent with him I've become well practiced in fellating him and I know exactly what he likes - even when I'm under the influence of alcohol. I could tell by the way his penis was responding, and by the way he was holding me with his hands behind my head, that already he was getting close. I could hear him moaning and groaning, slipping from English into Gaelic and back again as I devoured his erection, wanting to give him as much pleasure as I could possibly give him on this special day of thanksgiving for all things masculine. Just as Aiden's semen had been coaxed from him to fertilise the land and appease the goddess Haumea, I wanted to coax Patrick's seed to appease me - and I didn't have to wait for long.

"Hah-h-h-h! Sshh-h-h-h! Oh, fuck, Allie! Hah-h-h! I'm gonna come!" I heard him panting and growling as he arrived at the precipice of his moment of no return.

He pulled my head towards him and my nose pressed up against his pubic bone and my chin kissed his balls, and then with one final climactic growl he came, and his warm masculine essence flooded my mouth and flowed over my tongue. I savoured the musky, salty, sweetness of his semen, the elixir so venerated by the womenfolk of this remote island community. As always I eventually had to come up for air, and as his penis slipped out of my mouth I swallowed every last drop I had taken from him.

"Oh, Allie, oh-h-h baby, oh that was feckin' unbelievable," Patrick murmured as his spent erection, coated in my saliva and his own excess emission, gently bobbed before my eyes.

As it started to droop and return to its normal resting state, Patrick helped me to my feet and took me in his arms.

"Thank you, my love," he softly said as we embraced.

Patrick was right, the Ka lã o nã kãnaka - the Day of the Men - had been quite an education into the culture of the island's native population. At first I had been dismissive about the outlandish concept of celebrating men, but now, after witnessing all the ritual and the island's women simply appreciating the men in their lives, it all made sense to me. This was not just a Blackwell Island version of International Men's Day, it was much deeper and much more meaningful than that, even if some aspects of it were rather too, ahem, intimate to include in my magazine article.

A Request and an Invitation

"She did what?" Mags asked me during another of our video calls a few days after I'd witnessed the masturbation ceremony. "I mean, am I hearing things right here, Allie, because it sounded to me like you said this priestess woman masturbated that young lad!"

"No word of a lie, Mags," I responded. "That's exactly what happened - right in front of over two thousand people!"

"Poor lad," Mags replied. "If I was in his position I'd have died from embarrassment! Nothing wrong with getting a free handjob, but in front of that many people... that's just totally messed up!"

"That was pretty much what Patrick thought of it all," I chuckled.

"Is he alright? This young lad, what's his name, Aiden?" she asked me. "I mean, he hasn't been traumatised by it or anything?"

"He's fine, he was just a bit embarrassed at the time - he hates being the centre of attention apparently."

"I can imagine!" Mags chuckled. "So, these people have an entire day when the women give thanks for the men in their lives? You know that kind of thing could never happen here!"

"Well, I was pretty dismissive of it myself to begin with, but as the day went on I realised it held a great deal of significance to them."

"Well, as long as there is a "Day of the Women" too then I guess it's harmless enough."

I didn't quite know how to tell Mags that there wasn't such an observance, so instead I simply let it pass. Besides, with it being a matriarchal culture, I suppose I could technically say that every other day was the day of the women.

"Anyway, I can't wait to read about it in your next article," she went on. "Though of course we may have to "creatively" edit the part about the young lad being given a handjob!"

"Of course," I agreed.

We chatted for a little while longer, with Mags filling me in on all the latest gossip from the office back in London, and one particularly shocking story that was to feature in the magazine's latest edition.

"She did what?" I gasped, echoing Mags's words from earlier in the conversation. "That poor guy!"

"Yep, she picked the used condom out of the bin after they'd had sex, sucked its contents into a syringe and then used it to impregnate herself!" Mags confirmed. "Now the guy has literally been trapped into being a father despite taking precautions.

"He took her to court, but despite everything the judge told him he still has to pay child support, for a kid he never wanted to have in the first place!

"And, just to make matters worse, she refuses to even let him see the kid! She brazenly said that she got what she wanted, namely a baby and a gullible guy to pay for it, and didn't see that she had done anything wrong whatsoever!"

"Huh! The sooner they develop a male pill the better!" Patrick huffed from the kitchen, obviously overhearing our conversation.

"Well, I don't know about you, Allie, but I know I'd never trust a man to take it!" Mags scoffed derisively at the notion of a male contraceptive pill.

"Well, we men have to trust you women to take the pill," Patrick retorted as he entered the room. "A woman could easily trick a man into unwanted fatherhood just by coming off the pill and not telling him!"

"He has a point," I said to my distant colleague.

It didn't escape my notice that Patrick was in full view of my laptop's camera, giving Mags a full-frontal display of his naked body - her eyes looked as they were almost about to pop out!

"Yeah, I... guess... perhaps," Mags stumbled in reply, her gaze drawn towards my husband's currently dormant genitalia.

As soon as he noticed her staring at him he hastily retreated back into the kitchen.

"Holy crap, Allie! I can see why you married him!" Mags exclaimed in a hushed tone of voice. "He looks gorgeous in the nude!"

"So anyway, like I said, Patrick has a point," I went on, keen to return to the subject at hand and to wrench her attention away from ogling my other half. "Is it unreasonable for us not to trust men if we expect them to trust us?"

"Okay, well if there was such a thing as a male contraceptive pill..."

"I know for a fact that scientists are working on developing one as we speak," I interjected.

"If there was such a thing as a male contraceptive pill and it was available right now, would you trust Patrick to take it? Every day? Without fail?"

I didn't need to think about my answer.

"Yes, I would," I responded immediately.

"Seriously, Allie? You'd be comfortable basically putting your body into his hands?"

Now that did give me cause to stop and think for a moment.

"At the end of the day it's about choice and sharing a burden," I said after a few moments' consideration. "A male pill gives couples more choice, and puts less of the burden of contraception on a woman's shoulder. You and I both know the hormonal mayhem the pill can cause to a woman's body, and if there were a safe alternative to it that men could use, then I for one would definitely consider it. Plus, it'd also give men more protection from being taken advantage of, like the poor guy in your upcoming article."

Fortunately, the discussion on contraceptive choices, and current lack thereof for men, was parked after my response and the subject shifted to what I had in mind for my next article for Letters From Blackwell Island.

"To be honest, Mags, right now I have no idea," I replied. "But I know something will come up - it always does. Patrick and I are having lunch with our friends, Angela and Toby Masterson later - you'll remember them from the article I wrote about when we went to Aina Ahi to help count the population of Blue-Footed Boobies there. Anyway, they're expats like us from the UK so it might be good to write about their experiences moving here and adapting to the island's culture."

Mags agreed that it was at least as good enough a place to start as any, and we eventually wrapped up the conversation. Upon hanging up, Patrick re-entered the room looking somewhat pensive.

"Did you mean that? About trusting me to take a contraceptive pill every day?" he asked me.

"Absolutely," I confirmed as I reached out for his hand and pulled him onto the bed.

Patrick allowed me to roll him onto his back and to mount him. The lovemaking that followed was rapid and energetic, as it almost always is when I'm on top, and by the time we'd finished and I could feel his warm offering inside me, we had both worked up a sweat that only a nice long shower would take care of.

* * * * * *

It was nice to catch up with Angela and Toby again, since our sojourn to Aina Ahi, Blackwell Island's larger and uninhabited neighbour, we had become good friends having bonded over our shared background as non-natives who had come to live the naked lifestyle of Blackwell Island from the UK. We'd socialised together plenty of times since then, having met up for drinks in Malmesbury and the occasional afternoon on the beach. Of course, having been fully integrated into Blackwell Island culture they invited Patrick and I to join them in visiting one of the island's Red Zones - areas specifically set aside for adults to engage in outdoor lovemaking - but as ever, Patrick declined. One day, I keep telling myself, one day.

But this afternoon's rendezvous had a different feel to it - we hadn't been invited to their home before and so it felt much more formal than usual. With that in mind I made sure that Patrick was wearing his Kani.

The Mastersons lived in a little hamlet called Polūwai Kaha a few miles away over on the northern shores of Blackwell Island, in a chalet style house that overlooked a broad horseshoe bay with white sand and azure blue waters that gave the hamlet its name, which translated simply as Bluewater Bay. Marea had kindly lent us her car, and as ever I relished the chance to whizz around the island's network of dusty roads in the funky little electric Mini Moke. Now that our extended stay on the island had been confirmed it was about time we looked into getting a car of our own, but part of me didn't want to in the knowledge that I knew we'd never find anything as fun to drive as Marea and Jackson's little jalopy.

As we pulled up outside our friends' home, with the tranquil blue waters and golden sands of the bay just beyond, I had a sense that this would turn out to be more than just a normal Sunday lunch with friends - and I wasn't to be proved wrong.

Everything went as one would normally expect a traditional English Sunday lunch to go at first - Toby had prepared a joint of roast beef with lots of vegetables, a nice red wine gravy, followed by a sponge pudding with lots of custard, but after that as we went out onto the veranda with post-dinner coffees in hand, things suddenly took a turn.

"I guess I ought to confess that I have an ulterior motive for inviting you here," Angela said, obviously biting her tongue somewhat.

"How do you mean?" I asked her, totally unaware of what she was about to explain.

She turned and looked at her husband, who then nodded at her to go on.

"Well, Toby and I were wondering if you'd do something for us, Allie," she went on somewhat tentatively.

She took in a deep breath and then it all spilled out of her.

"As you know, our son Morton will be turning eighteen in a couple of weeks and, well, as you already know part of the coming of age ceremony involves him losing his virginity, and I was wondering if you would do us the honour of taking it."

Well, I was shocked, as you can imagine.

"You... you want me to... to... take Morton's virginity?!?" I exclaimed, after several moments of trying and failing to get the words out.

Patrick beside me looked if anything even more shocked than I - after all, Angela and Toby had basically just asked me to do what amounted to committing adultery, and for a Catholic man like Patrick who took his wedding vows very seriously, it clearly was a monumental thing to have to get his head around.

"I know it's a big thing to ask, but I, well, we would be honoured if you'd agree to it," Angela went on.

"But... what about Morton? Does he have any say in this?" I asked.

"No, he doesn't," Toby answered. "Neither do I, for that matter - I mean, I got to choose one of my friends to take Katherine's virginity a couple of years ago, so as per Blackwell tradition it's a mother's job to choose a woman to take her son's virginity."

"Don't worry about Morton," Angela took over. "He knows what the Ke Hele Nei ceremony involves - he only asked that I don't choose some old biddy to do the deed, and I love him too much to do that to him."

"Yes, but why ask Allie?" Patrick asked her. "Why choose my wife? You know what you're basically asking her to do right? You're asking her to betray her wedding vows! Sacred vows to be faithful to her husband that she made before God and all the saints!"

"I just want it to be someone that Toby and I can trust," Angela explained patiently. "Look, I know I'm asking something that you're uncomfortable with..."

"That's putting it mildly!" Patrick interrupted.

"But the rules are... sort of different here on Blackwell," she went on.

"Oh, they are, are they?" Patrick huffed, his anger clearly rising with every passing moment. "Sure why couldn't you ask a single woman? Like... like... what's her name, Jenni, the policewoman? She's an attractive lass, why not ask her?"

"I can't," Angela responded. "Like I said, the rules here on Blackwell are different - the person who takes a boy or girl's virginity has to be married."

I cast my mind back to Aiden and Lisa's coming of age ceremony - indeed, the man and woman that Jackson and Marea had chosen to take the Twins' virginities were husband and wife.

"At least allow Allie to think about it," Angela continued.

"Would you do it?" Patrick asked me.

"Only if you let me," I assured him in reply.

"Would you let me? If someone asked me to pop their daughter's cherry?" he went on.

"I... I don't know," I replied. "Maybe I would."

"You made a vow," Patrick reminded me. "In full view of God and Jesus and all the saints, to be faithful to me."

"I did, and you know I'd never betray you," I assured him, trying to remain as calm as possible. "And in my mind being unfaithful means doing something behind your back, not literally out in the open like what Angela's asking me to do."