Mr. Lonely

When one has been stranded on a deserted island in the pacific for 4 months, the question of what they miss most about civilization arises. Introducing Benjamin Stewart, playboy engineer and inventor, our main character of this particular foray into the mind of mankind. His ship, Thoreau's Salvation, had been a marvel of sustainability, capable of staying on the open ocean for two years without needing to resupply. For all of Mr. Stewarts ingenuity, he did not have his creation vetted by any reputable ship builders to reveal the fatal flaw of pontoon designs on the open ocean-storms. Hence his arrival and subsequent domestication of the island over the course of the past four months.

All of his immediate needs had been secured, the ship's remaining resources had been stripped and floated to the island. The island had been explored and he was comfortable. Benjamin Stewart is now forced to confront the dreams he has been having since he arrived since he is now bored.

I was lying in the shade at the edge of the small forest that covered the islands interior gazing up at the clouds that filled the sky. My tasks for the morning had been completed before my estimated 10 a.m. leaving me with very little that needed to be done for the remainder of my day. Unfortunately, for me the clouds weren't providing the interest I had anticipated. It was woman after woman in various states of undress. This was not unsurprising. I had only built this ship to pass the time until my wife returned from the two year flagship voyage to mars and she had politely made me promise to wait as long as I could between masturbation sessions so our reunion would be more passionate. That promise and the last time we had had sex was eight months ago. I was fulfilling my promise less than admirably, barely managing a week before jerking off prior to wrecking on the island. Since arriving, I had been kept busy enough I had finally managed to start living up to more reasonable expectations but then the dreams began.

Last night was amazing. It had started with a movie theater date that quickly devolved into back row fondling until she actually pulled my cock out of my jeans. The dream suddenly shifted locales to our bedroom. I was instructed to shower while she "prepared." Once upon a time that phrase had simply implied she was going to use the bathroom then freshen up. As our variety of sexual toys and tools expanded, it grew to include bringing out whatever she wanted to wear or use that evening. The dream flickered as my subconscious brought me back to all the things I had been wanting to do my wife since she had left.

She was wearing her black lingerie, the kind that only teases rather than outright reveals. More strikingly though, were the cuffs she had attached to each wrist and ankle to the cords under the bed. Face down, she was slightly grinding hips inviting me to join her. The dream version of me wasted no time climbing on top of her. As I moved to push her panties to the side, she spoke,

"Ah, Ah, Ah, remember. I am still on my trip. You don't get to cum if I don't."

I quickly slid my cock between her thighs instead and began to pump in and out. From there, things only escalated until I was ready to cum and suddenly my eyes were opening to the daylight. Each night get progressively more and more sexy. Pushing me closer to my limit each time, revealing the one thing I miss most about living among people.

Sex with my wife. I can handle being marooned on island. The daily work required to get the food and water I need to survive. I sing to maintain my voice. I debate both sides of an argument to practice my socialization. The only thing I cannot truly replicate is the sex. Each time my hardened hands wrap around my cock to relieve this pressure. I go soft, my mind turning to the dreamed softness of my wife. The moans and the gasps as my cock brings her closer and closer to an orgasm. The feeling of my hand wrapped around her hair pulling her closer for a kiss. I know that once I jerk off, the dreams will come to an end and I refuse to be alone on this island when I could spend my evenings with her instead.

There sits Benjamin Stewart. Genius inventor of the devices that support our way of life. Yet, the one thing mankind cannot replicate is the love and intimacy that comes from sex with your spouse.

The loneliness felt by Benjamin Stewart is only a fraction of how much I want to be with you, lovely. You are truly my greatest desire; I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around you and never let go. Money, fame, knowledge are the prime motivators of all humanity and yet they pale in comparison for my desire to spend one night beside you gently touching each other as we drift off to our own separate dreams. I want to feel your body shaking against mine as I make you laugh. I want to be there to comfort you and to share each other's lives again. I know that soon we will be able to see each other but that only increases the longing I feel for you. I am distracted for all my thoughts of you. I will be yours again soon and you will be mine.