The Abathandi Adventure Ch. 05

THE ABATHANDI ADVENTURE

Note to readers: This story is in the Novels section because it is on the longer side for this site, and because the story herein crosses several categories of sexuality, even within each chapter, beginning with "Fantasy." All people in sexual situations are 18 or older.

CHAPTER 5: THE LETTER

Weeks later, Summer was swimming when she discovered a metal container floating in the ocean.

Rick was lying on the sand watching her. He was as nude as she was. The only thing he ever wore now was a tiny loincloth that covered only the exact dimensions of their genitalia were he standing perfectly still in calm air, held up by a string that dipped into the cleavage of his ass. She wore nothing more than a skirt around her hips that dipped to just above the start of her sex, ended just below her sex, and in back showed enough to accentuate her muscular ass. Summer's only other modesty was when her long, flowing hair occasionally covered her breasts.

The two had settled into the adult life of the village. The women gathered plants and fruit, while the men hunted with arrows for beasts, or stood in the ocean water and fished with spears. Everyone ate together at night, and drank a sweet drink created from the island's berries with the island's citrus fruits in it.

Some nights people would dance to drums and islanders playing something that worked like a flute created from a hollowed-out tree branch, or something like that worked like a horn, made from a hollowed-out animal horn. Other nights the young men would wrestle or swim against each other, the latter before the sun set.

Those not participating would watch seated on the ground, the women leaning back against their men's bodies. The men would nuzzle them, and sometimes mischievously play with their breasts. The women would sometimes grind their asses against their men's genitals. It would end with the men getting up and helping their women get up, or their women getting up as a signal to their men, and they would walk back to their huts, holding hands.

Every night ended with the cries of women, including Summer, reaching another blissful orgasm at the hands, or mouths, or penises of their mates, including Rick. They would fall asleep in each other's arms, wake up the next morning, and go for an ocean swim, often interrupted by more lovemaking, on the beach or in the water, unless they had already made love before swimming.

Rick's body was now adorned with two tattoos. One, on his back, symbolized the giant bird that had flown around them the day of their Joining. The other, on his chest, was of a snake, which curved down his chest to his genitals, which appeared to come out of the snake's giant head.

They walked naked to the tattooing. Summer rode on Rick's shoulders to show off her man.

"Damyrah said you should carry me," she said.

Then after a while, she said, "Walk ... more ... carefully."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because ... I'm going ... to come," she said, grinding her hips into his neck while sitting almost six feet in the air.

The tattooing process was painful to the point of being a nearly out-of-body experience for Rick. Summer relieved his pain by keeping him erect by hand and by mouth, though not allowing him to orgasm until the process ended, when she lowered her head to his groin and sucked on him until Rick orgasmed, releasing endorphins to block the pain.

Summer had a tattoo on her back too. It was of the tentacled creature in the river. The tattoo process required Summer to lay down over Rick and keep his cock inside her. He held her while the tattoo was applied onto her skin. His cock inside her got an erotic pulse every time the artists tapped onto her back. He kissed her every time she whimpered with the pain, and thrusted briefly to replace her pain with erotic pleasure.

The process took several hours. When the tattooing was complete, Rick carefully pushed upward into Summer. She responded. Moments later they orgasmed, producing more endorphins. The artists gently helped Summer off of Rick, and then Rick tenderly picked her up, one hand on her ass and one behind her knees as she leaned forward.

"No," she said. "I want to ride you again."

"Isn't that going to hurt?" he said.

"I don't care," she said.

And so she rode him back, her only concession flipping her hair toward the front so it wouldn't brush her still-raw tattooed back. Rick's back had already healed. He again felt her squirm against his neck.

They encountered two women who wanted to see all his tattoos. Summer stretched her legs out for them to see while she held on to Rick's head.

By the time they got back to their hut, Summer was healed. Rick had to go down on his knees to let her off. She demonstrated her healing by standing on her feet, walking in front of Rick, then pushing Rick onto the ground, where they proceeded to make love again with her on top, her breasts sliding over the tattooed snake.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for that," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked. It had been an entire half-hour since they had last had sex to conclude her tattoo session.

"When those women came up to us to see your tattoo, I was just about to come."

Since then, Rick and his chest tattoo had attracted considerable female attention. They would walk in the village only to have women come up to them wanting, after a conversation Rick couldn't decipher, to see the rest of the tattoo. Summer would then pull down his loincloth to reveal the rest of the tattoo, making Rick's cock pop out like a warped version of "Pop Goes the Weasel." They would not just look at the tattoos, but feel them, placing their dark hands on his lighter skin, as if expecting his skin to feel different from theirs.

More conversation took place. A woman then would grab Rick's cock and balls and lift them. Summer would say something. Then the woman would start to massage Rick's genitals, making them of course grow and harden. Summer not only was not apparently upset at their groping him, she actively invited it, as if she was showing him off.

Two days earlier, a young woman with dazzling light green eyes, having seen Rick's cock as shown off by Summer, bent over in front of Rick, then pushed against his genitals with her ass. Summer picked up Rick's cock and pushed it between her legs, and there, standing in the middle of the path with people walking by as though this sort of thing happened all the time, the girl's sex clapsed onto Rick's cock, they rocked together for a little while with Summer standing next to him turning his head to hers so they could kiss, and Rick exploded his load into her.

The woman then got up and kissed Rick, then Summer, and walked off nude, using her loincloth to tie her hair back in the heat instead of putting it back on.

"What the hell was that?" said Rick when he could speak.

"She said she wanted you, but she didn't want to live with you," said Summer, laughing at Rick's dumbfounded look. "She said she was with you a long time ago."

Rick was mystified, until he remembered the girl and their long-ago brief encounter.

"Don't get any ideas," she then said, kissing him hard and grabbing his genitals, which had not quite recovered from their public copulation.

Rick and Summer were part of perhaps the most content society in the history of humankind. While Summer, and he assumed other women, felt free to share his, and he assumed other men's, manhoods, and there was still sexual play among other adults in all combinations, it was as if Summer and all the women were communicating to each other without jealousy: Feel free to fuck him; the rest of him is mine. Indeed, the only possession of anyone of any consequence appeared to be their mate.

As usual, he thought, women really run the world, whether or not anyone admits it. The men provided in hunting, in the labor parts of agriculture, in building or repairing huts, and in cooking. Couples ended their day with each other, in each other's arms, sleeping the sleep of the fulfilled with the person with whom they were supposed to live their lives.

Summer now emerged from the surf, nude, holding the container. Not for the first time Rick marveled at how beautiful she was, a sun goddess, water dripping off her full breasts, her hair flowing in the breeze, her hips swaying as a hint of what was to come for her man.

The container — the first hint of civilization off the island they had seen since they had arrived — had a screw-off lid. Inside was a letter.

Rick and Summer,

I must first apologize for not being truthful to you, beginning with this fact: No one is coming to pick you up. You are never leaving your island.

I am writing this as the only person, I believe, who knows about the existence of your island. The crew of the submarine that brought you there did not know. because the sub delivered you by autopilot, and the location where you were dropped off was erased from the sub computer's memory. I have designed a blocking device that I installed in the gear you took to the island to scramble map applications, radar and even satellite imagery from detecting the Island. I have hidden the island to the greatest extent possible.

"I guess we're fired," said Rick.

"Good thing I hadn't started my doctoral dissertation," said Summer.

"Yeah, well, there's no one to read it."

You will certainly be asking why I would go to such lengths. That is because I was once on the island. I was hidden among them to observe them. And then I was discovered and taken in. I did The Joining. If you have not been part of the Joining, know that it will be unlike anything you will ever experience.

"No kidding, " said Rick.

Summer smacked Rick's ass.

The biggest mistake I ever made in my life was leaving. I have made billions of dollars in my life. I have never been as happy as I was on your island. But they came back for me, and I went with them. I came to regret that decision.

One thing I have discovered is that The Joining infects you with a virus. Everyone on the island has it, despite how healthy they are. Or perhaps that's why they're as healthy as they are. I surmise that as long as you are on the island, you will remain perfectly healthy and live a long life.

"So this island is a sexually transmitted disease," said Rick, which made Summer giggle.

Once you leave and return to the so-called real world, you are subject to everything unhealthy about the real world. Perhaps civilization is the virus. I have done what I can to quarantine the island from the virus of civilization.

Based on what I observed, I am going to call the island "Abathandi." It comes from the Zulu language. There seem to be some physical similarities between the Zulu and your islanders, though I have no way of confirming this.

"Abathandi," by the way, is Zulu for "the lovers."

Summer gave a short laugh.

I must tell you one more thing. I decided that I wanted to leave one thing of myself on the island. That is Summer. She is my daughter. She has never known me, but I have followed her for her entire life. I made sure to hire her when she earned her master's degree. I also hired someone I thought could be her lifelong companion. Do not disappoint me, Rick.

The ultimate truth is that I didn't pick you two to research the island. I picked you to join the island, to become part of the islanders, and to raise your children — my grandchildren — in a better world than mine. The islanders are in you and you are, or will be, in them.

Rick now understood. Some nights when they made love — and they made love every night, though not just at night — he felt like he was not just Rick making love to Summer, but an uncountable number of tribal men making love to her. When Summer called out as their passion overtook them, it was as if the women of the islanders over the ages felt her sexual joy.

By the time you read this, I will be dead. That virus I called civilization is the cause of my death. But I do not want you to grieve my death. I will die happy knowing that you are on the island, and that I have done everything I can do to keep civilization away from you and your islanders.

Rick looked at Summer, whose eyes filled with tears at the revelation of the father she never really knew.

Rick held her close. Her shoulders shuddered for a little while. Then she looked down at him. He kissed her eyes one at a time.

"I guess if you wanted to we could swim for it," said Rick finally.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we can't take the boat anymore. I was walking that direction a few days ago and just for the hell of it I decided to look for it. It's gone. Either the jungle ate it, or maybe someone decided to use it to fish."

"Where would we go anyway?"

"Nowhere we can go. I never paid attention to how we got here. We could do like the old explorers did, steer by the stars ... and we'd end up eaten by sharks."

Summer lay her head on Rick's chest. Their entire conversation had been in jest. They weren't leaving. They had no reason and no desire to leave.

"Do you miss anything?" she asked.

He thought for a bit. "Not really. I mean ... I suppose I'll never eat pizza again unless I figure out how to make it here." He was silent. "But the rat race? Competition for grant dollars? Jealousy among scientists? I don't miss that at all."

"You know what?" said Summer.

"What?"

She paused, then said, "I've never been this happy before now. I don't think ... compared to this I've ever been happy before we got here. Here ... these people ... and you.

"That world out there ... it doesn't seem real anymore. I'm not unhappy we can't leave. This is where we belong. Here ... us."

He hadn't told her that, but he felt the same way. Rick had to blink away tears.

"Goddamn allergies," he said.

Summer laughed. They kissed.

"They call us Bright Eyes," she said after a few moments, putting her head back down on his chest.

"Who?"

"Everyone. We're the only couple like us."

"I thought that was obvious," said Rick.

"You won't believe what I found out yesterday."

"The last year has been a lot of unbelievable."

"Biaji said he has seen the full moon more than 13,000 times."

"Thirteen thousand?"

At the rate of 13 full moons per year, that made Biaji more than 100 years old. He looked like a fit 40-year-old.

"Damyrah told me about the ritual of becoming the chief. The chief has sex with every woman on the island over the course of ... however long it takes. It turns out there are several little chiefs among the population. Damyrah is the mother of some of them, but apparently not all of them."

It sounded like the illegitimate children of some European monarch, except that there was no royal property to claim.

"How did he get picked?"

"I didn't ask, but apparently there is no line of succession by heredity."

Heredity. "You know, that letter might help answer a mystery," said Rick.

"What mystery?"

"Brown eyes are a dominant trait. The only way anyone should have green or blue eyes is by a genetic mutation."

"Which means what?"

Rick paused. "I wonder if your father is where that mutation came from. Both the eye color and the fact some people here are lighter than others. Maybe he was fruitful and multiplied while he was on the island."

Rick paused again, and then said, bemused, "And I guess that means you might be related to some people on this island."

Summer paused, and then said in mock anger, "You mean to tell me you've been fucking my sister?"

Rick looked at her as if she had suddenly grown horns, and then, unable to keep up the façade, Summer laughed and kissed him.

The fire within them started again.

THE END OF THIS STORY ... BUT MAYBE NOT THE END OF THEIRS.