Mother - Hostile Makeover Ch. 08

Lauren liked living naked, but not exercising that way.

Janet had never been a clothes horse but her nature was to prepare for all eventualities. So she'd packed for a business trip to Kai'ulau as if she were embarked on an around-the-world cruise. She had running shoes to lend that fit well enough. Her sports bra was too snug for Lauren but it was better than having the girls flopping around.

Lauren considered a run down to Atunai, the island's main settlement. She wanted a less carefully guided tour than her hosts had allowed so far. But she decided that the trail was too far and too steep for her first morning's run in weeks. So she started out just after dawn with a couple of circuits around the flat high ground upon which the Hermitage stood. By her third lap she was using the debris at the edges of the courtyard as an obstacle course, vaulting the bigger chunks of collapsed masonry and upturned flagstones. Her metabolism was in overdrive.

On impulse, she veered off down the steep, winding stone steps of the isthmus connecting the Hermitage to the rest of the island. The way back up would be a challenge, but her confidence in her strength grew with every stride. At the far end of the steps, trails branched in several directions. One led toward a concrete lot lined by garages and sheds with the paved road beyond it, others down toward the ocean shore. She chose a shore path.

The tropical slopes were redolent with the strong fragrance of the Tiare. It reminded her of vanilla and burnt ginger. Kai'ulauans cultivated the red blossoms on the hillsides, but it flourished wild over most of the island as well.

At the foot of the path, the lush undergrowth yielded abruptly to a field of bare volcanic rock that stretched hundreds of feet out to the water's edge. She stood above a tide pool carved out of dark porous stone by the relentless tide. The flooded basin looked about half the length of a football field. A narrow inlet at one end had been sealed with blocks hewn from the surrounding pumice to fully enclose the pool. At high tide, the surf crashing over that dam could probably grab a swimmer and drown them, or else smash them to death against the rock in an eye blink. But now was ebb tide. The water was calm and shallow enough to stand in some places.

Lauren walked a little way along the rim, pretending to herself that she was weighing the risk she'd already decided to take.

She glanced at her fitness tracker as she undressed, impressed at the pulse and respiration readings. It usually took a week or two for her to get into this kind of shape after a layoff. She stuffed the wristband in her shoe and shoved it into a rock crevice along with her clothes. Awarding herself mental points for having the sense not to dive head-first into the rocky and uncertain depths, she sat and scooted off the edge to lower herself into the pool.

First contact with the warm water snapped her nipples and clitoris to full attention. With a sigh of mixed pleasure and exasperation, she pushed off and swam hard out to the middle, rolled, and floated on her back. She opened her legs, drifting with the current, letting water flow around and over and lap at her inner thighs. She inhaled deeply the scent of the ocean...and the blossoms.

According to Jan, Lib's effects were cumulative. Day by day, the stuff insinuated itself into Lauren's awareness, an unceasing and ever-growing hum of sexual desire. It was as if she were being rewired to be hot and bothered all the time.

Where did this all end?

Aleksandra might represent one answer: fit and healthy in her seventh decade, beautiful and sexually voracious. Lauren had found her with Jan a day ago, the two of them tag-teaming a couple of big islanders. Lauren didn't recognize either guy and hadn't asked for introductions. She was determined not to be so easily seduced and initiated into the horny girls' club.

And then there'd been Aleksandra's father Lukasz, literally scaling mountains as he'd approached the century mark. Alas, he'd become a nuisance, hadn't he? Until the daughter he was probably fucking had kicked him off the face of a cliff.

Lauren was willing to bet money that was how it had happened.

So what would the world do when confronted with a jaded, geriatric generation who refused to make way for the young? It was hardly a new problem, but the advent of Libidramine onto the scene would lend it fresh urgency.

There were times that Lauren envied Jan her untroubled, grateful acceptance of this place at face value. An ease and a joie de vivre shone in her eyes, reminiscent of times long ago when they'd first grown to love one another. That spark of joy had dimmed in Jan over the years. The pair had rediscovered it here, that first day in the courtyard, but only briefly. Lauren's continued questioning and voicing of her unease made Jan uncomfortable.

So, it was little wonder that Jan preferred the company of her new BFF, Aleksandra. But Lauren disliked being cast in the role of the Serpent in this new Eden.

She had tried to reconcile what she saw of this paradise with the admittedly spotty reading she'd done online before flying out to New Derby. Nowhere had she found so much as urban legends about Kai'ulauan aphrodisiacs. And she'd seen few relics here of the original French colony other than the Hermitage itself. The French government had ceded control of the island without reluctance in the early 1960s. It was tiny, hundreds of miles from the nearest of the Marquesas, and all attempts up until then to exploit its resources, such as phosphate mining, had come to naught for reasons unexplained. Had all the settlers just gratuitously folded up the Tricolore, made their tearful farewells to what must have been legions of indigenous mistresses, and set off again-- Eastward, Ho?

The morning sun beating down on Lauren's exposed face and breasts both soothed and aroused her. She gave up her rumination and surrendered to instinct, running her palms flat over her stomach, moving down, massaging her hips and the hollows of her upper thighs. Her fingertips drew lazy patterns on the round hill of her mound, one nail grazing the tented hood of her clitoris.

Not here. She looked around and felt silly for the self-admonishment. Why not here?

She traced the border of her swelling labia. Even underwater she could feel her pussy leaking. When she touched her nipples an arc of excruciating excitement shot through her. Christ, playing with herself at all nearly brought her to instant orgasm! She wasn't sure how long she could live like this and stay sane. She'd become like Jan, demanding sex constantly.

And would that really be so bad? Why not join Jan, fuck Stefan together, and then all the delicious young men and women in the Hermitage. Aleksandra, too. And Chelsea. All the young studs of the island, waiting for turns at the four of them, holding and kissing them and passing them one to the other, pumping hard into them, never stopping until the women cried "Enough!"

And it would never be enough.

She relaxed and turned on to the lurid images playing in her head. That's all it was, a sex fantasy to get herself off. Underneath it all, however, was the disturbing truth that whatever was happening to her on this island was not something she wanted to stop. Not yet.

Pulse quickening, she rolled a finger over her clitoris. She pushed down gently on the pesky, delightful little bud, rewarded by an exquisite contraction and release that flowed through every muscle of her body. She paused, waiting for her pulse to slow. She didn't want to come too soon but didn't know how long she could hold that sweet little death of self at bay. Tickle, stop, breathe. Scale the peak, inches at a time. Pause, relax. Repeat.

She dreamed of Stefan while she cupped her vulva and rocked the heel of her thumb against her clitoris. When at last she eased a forefinger into her moist opening, the satin warmth of her vagina clung and sucked her inside. Gasping, she moaned and inserted her index and ring fingers.

Self-penetration wasn't one of her go-tos. It didn't satisfy the way that playing with her clit did after decades of fervid practice. But now having something inside her evoked Stefan for her, just a little. The pressure of firm flesh parting her sex lips and probing up inside her, meager though it might be, triggered her body's precious memory of that man and that cock.

Falling in love with Stefan would be senseless. Whether or not he even wanted it, it was not in her best interest. But his eyes, his hands, his cock...the power of their carnal bond warped her judgment of the gulf between what was possible and what was wise.

Maybe her problem was that Stefan was the only man that she'd shared Libidramine with. Sex on the drug was so much more intense than any previous experience she'd had, and she had no other lover to compare him to.

Perhaps that was it. Possibly and maybe.

She drifted. In her imagination, Stefan became Ethan.

For the first time in her memory, dreams of her son brought reassurance rather than a guilty sense of impending doom. Ethan was a safe harbor amidst the storm of lust and intrigue she struggled to navigate. She pictured him floating here alongside her, his arm under her shoulders, her hand resting on his throbbing erection. She licked her lips, shivering despite the rising tropic heat.

She could have taken him that last afternoon they were together, in the hot darkness of the hangar. She should have. It would have been easy. Toweling him clean after his labors on that old car, sliding to her knees on the cold dusty floor, unbuttoning his jeans. The hunger in her eyes would have given him his permission then. Because he wanted her too--he must! He'd have taken her right there on the concrete floor. His lean body on hers, inside her, the grit and dirt cutting into her butt and shoulders as she ground desperately beneath him. Their mouths locked in an eternal kiss. Ethan. Ethan ramming into her hard, again and again, no choice, making her love the dark, sweating, sharp--

The scuffing of shoes along stone shattered her reverie. Yanking her hand away from her crotch she raised her head to see Jakob standing by the water's edge, bright slanting sun glinting on his black shades. He smiled easily and waved to her. Goddamn son of a bitch!

"Go away!" Lauren rolled onto her stomach.

"It would be safer if you left some word where you were going." Jakob took no account of her anger. He swept his arm in a wide arc to take in the scenery, all good cheer. "This is my own favorite place for as long as I can remember. So close by. I'm surprised that so few visit it."

"Are you keeping track of me now?"

"In my professional capacity? Most definitely. As a matter of personal interest?" He shrugged.

"And what exactly is your...capacity, Jakob? Professionally." She stood up waist-deep in the water, willing herself calm. Showing anger was vulnerability. She'd learned that long ago, though her practice was spotty.

"You might say that I'm Mrs. Novak's left-hand man."

"Gotcha. You lie for her. You do the dirty deeds, hide the bodies..."

He smiled his dry smile again, the one that never reached his eyes. "Metaphorically speaking."

"You have pretty teeth, Jakob. But you're the most tightly-wound fella on the island."

"Pardon?"

"Just look at you, standing there in your tropical worsted splendor. 'Naked' seems to be the company dress code but I don't think I've seen the top button of that shirt undone." She swam toward him. "If I come any closer, I may soak your pleated trousers."

Jakob scowled. He stepped back from the water and undid his tie. He stripped and discarded his clothes in a silent, studied imitation of nonchalance.

Dashing up the rocky incline to the water's edge he bounded into the air, jackknifing above her head. She ducked in alarm and when he crashed into the water behind her she held her breath. The bottom here was nothing but piles of sea-smoothed boulders, and the depth changed continually with the surf. She feared seeing a billowing cloud of blood spreading where he'd gone under.

Jakob surfaced with a splash. Water streamed down his hair and face and throat, running in rivulets over his shoulders and catching the sunlight like tiny lenses in the tight black curls on his chest. Her throat tightened at the sight of him.

"You could have cracked your skull," she rasped.

He closed the distance between them with a few powerful strokes. She floated off the bottom and opened her arms and legs to him.

What am I doing? It was past time to stop asking herself that question. She was always going to do whatever it was, anyway. She was horny right down to the points of her eye teeth and here was Jakob, her solution to several problems at once. The was no way that she'd fall in love with this one.

She crossed her legs behind his lean waist and pulled herself in close. They kissed recklessly. His hands covered her breasts and the underside of his hard-on glided between the outer folds of her pussy.

Lauren broke away and swam to the edge of the pool. She glanced back over her shoulder and rolled her hips, inviting him. He didn't move. His hesitance surprised her. To hear Jan tell it, Jakob had a real thing for mature women. Would Stefan have put Lauren off-limits to him? That was beyond unlikely.

Careful of her footing on the rocky bottom as she pulled herself halfway up and out of the water, she braced her forearms on the rim and leaned forward. She shifted her feet further apart on the slippery submerged stones along the bottom and lifted her rear to expose her soaking cunt above the surface. "Isn't this is what you want?"

Jakob approached with the wariness of a dog teased so often that it had lost its trust. All at once, she felt inexplicably protective of him.

He stood in the water behind her, thighs pressing into the globes of her rear. She raised one leg up onto the bare rock shelf, opening herself as wide as possible to his penetration. He leaned over her, kissing his way down over her neck and shoulder blades. As the tip of his cock parted her pussy lips, she held her breath and waited. He was another big one. She bit her lip as he entered, climaxing for the first time before he was halfway inside her and again when his balls bumped against her wet mound. The smooth friction of his cock against the walls of her vagina as he rocked his hips and withdrew soon pushed her toward the zenith a third time.

She wobbled on her knee. Her toes slipped on the rock. "Don't let me fall."

"Be still!" he snarled, even as one strong arm slid around her waist to hold her up. His free hand closed on her throat and squeezed gently. "I'm going to fuck you until you collapse. How long do you think you can stand up with a man pounding that little slut hole until your insides are jelly?"

What the hell was wrong with him? Lauren tried to pull free and push him away, but he was far too strong. He held her in place, hips pistoning forward and back, his prick railing in and out of her spasming pussy. His grip was firm, but he didn't dig his fingers in deep enough to hurt. "Or perhaps you're accustomed to being used like this?" he hissed. "Used by many men. How many, Lauren? How many men have you taken in a day? In an hour?"

What shocked her even more than his sudden hostility was her own response to his aggression. The shades of menace in his voice excited her. She reflexively wriggled her hips, her cunt muscles clamping around his shaft. She was not afraid. There was more defiance than dominance in Jakob. Still, she was not about to let him get away with this.

She twisted her head back to face him. "You talk sweet like this to Aleksandra?" she taunted. Her stab in the dark hit home; his whole body stiffened as if she'd sucker-punched him. With a roar, he yanked his cock completely out of her and then drove in deep with all of his might. "Oh, but you'd like to, wouldn't you? Mrs. Novak fucks everyone on the island, doesn't she? Don't you wish you were special?"

"SHUT UP." She had to push hard with both hands to keep from being crushed against the pumice by Jakob's violent thrusts. Whatever the fuck his issues were, she didn't care. He shoved and turned her roughly this way and that as if she were no more than a vessel for his fury, and all the while she was on fire, burning with need for more of this treatment. His pelvis slapped her ass with every stroke. He let go of her throat and his hands went everywhere--mauling her tits, pulling the dripping tangle of her hair, pinching her clitoris.

"Kill me, goddamn it!" she wailed as another orgasm shook her, "Tear me apart with that fucking big cock!" Jakob hammered furiously into her from behind, acting out some nameless, frustrated anguish. It had nothing to do with her, she could tell that--he was too attentive to her rhythms and her responses when he moved in her. When she came he swelled inside her and touched her affectionately, in places and ways that prolonged her joyous tremors. His rage was a performance, and it drove her wild.

"What do you want?" he barked, pausing abruptly in his thrusts. Lauren opened her eyes to see Manate ambling down the trail toward them.

"For a place that no one visits, the beach is awfully crowded this morning," she drawled.

The ghost of a smile crossed Manate's Easter Island face. "Mrs. Novak is waiting for you."

"Let her wait." Lowering his tone, Jakob added, "For a little while."

Manate nodded but didn't retreat. He stood over them, waiting for something, arms folded across his barrel chest. His pose of stoic indifference to their sexual display was belied by the impressive erection tenting the light cotton of his loosely draped lavalava.

"Bring it down here, babe." Lauren patted the flat wet stone in front of her. "I wanna suck that big dick." The words tumbled from her lips without a thought. Manate unknotted the fabric at his waist and tossed it away.

She stared incredulously at him. Manate's was the biggest cock she'd ever seen. Was every man on the island hung like a goddamn bull? An educated woman, if she were honest she had to admit to an embarrassing ignorance about too much of human sexuality. Did genetics determine penis size? Did Libidramine affect it? Was that even possible?

Lauren knew enough about men to be certain that if there were any evidence at all that this drug made their dicks bigger then the people who sold it were going to own the fucking world.

Manate lay on his side facing Lauren. She slipped an arm behind his waist, cradling his hips. and leaned toward him. Her hand wouldn't close around the girth of his cock so she slid her open palm up and down and all around it. She caught a few drops of his pre-cum in her hand. Her fingertips played lightly over his glans as she spread the slippery stuff over his shaft.

Big penises had never particularly appealed to Lauren until her first encounter with Stefan Novak. Oh, there'd been times when the sight of a well-endowed man had stimulated her imagination, but the physical experience was more often than not an uncomfortable disappointment. But now! She was afraid that the pleasure of taking on all these cunt-stretching cocks was so imprinting her that she'd never be satisfied again with an "average" partner.

So sorry, Jon, she thought. But she was not truly sorry at all.

She stretched her jaw as wide as she could, making a soft purring sound deep in her throat as she pursed her soft lips around the head of Manate's cock and took just the tip into her mouth. He grunted and bucked his hips upward, putting a huge hand on the back of her head. She batted his paw away and pulled her head back. She hoped that she could get most of him into her mouth. But she'd choke on this monster for sure if he rushed her.