The Vanishing Isle

Bromm's breath caught. "Taste? How do you mean, my lady?"

"You are a handsome man, and kind as well. I am naked, and you could be so soon. Remove your garments and let us enjoy ourselves."

Bromm stood up in a hurry and stripped off his pants. Behind him, his men stood stunned and motionless. Laughing at their shock, Oromeia knelt before Bromm and took his cock in her hands. Bromm struggled to control himself. He stood in a fantastical valley with an immortal's hand around his cock, and now she was opening her rosy lips to swallow him in her mouth! He gasped in awe as her lips touched him. A tingle went through his body, for the lips of an immortal were softer and more sensual than any other pair that had ever touched him. His toes curling in the grass, he looked down into Oromeia's sky-blue eyes and she smiled back at him.

He moaned with pleasure and wound a hand through her golden hair. Oromeia wrapped an arm around his naked waist and ran her tongue along his cockshaft. Clutching a fistful of hair, Bromm could on stand stupid and watch. Oromeia giggled, then hopped to her feet.

"I was so eager for cock that I forgot my manners," she said with a devastating smile. "A kiss for the weary sailor?"

Bromm nodded, stupefied, and she leaned in, still stroking his hard cock with one hand. The dryad's lips touched his own and Bromm kissed back with more passion than he had ever kissed a girl before. Oromeia was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the clear mountain water. Bromm had never been so dumbstruck. After a long, sensual kiss that Bromm spent trying not to come, Oromeia pulled away with another smile.

She knelt down before him again and her soft lips engulfed his cock. Bromm sighed deeply, then turned slightly to the side so that the gawking men behind him could see her clearly, cock in her mouth and a little droplet of spittle on her bare breasts.

As if awaking from a dream, realization dawned upon them at last and the sailors began eagerly stripping from their clothes. Clothes scattered around them in the grass as the men all crowded around Oromeia, thrusting their hard cocks at her as she fought to satisfy eight men with only one mouth and two hands. The air grew thick with lust and sweat and not even the onset of a cool breeze could clear it. Men grabbed at Oromeia; at her breasts, her ass, her legs. Urgan clutched at her sex, and the dryad pushed his rough hand away, laughing.

"All in good time," she called out. She shooed them away and they withdrew half a step, all still with hands on their cocks. Oromeia turned lightly on her bare feet, looking with salacious interest at the men who surrounded her. Turning to Bromm, she touched a finger to her rosy lips. "Lie down," she commanded. Bromm did as she ordered, the soft grass making a welcoming bed. Oromeia straddled his cock and lowered her dripping sex onto his cock. His eyes rolled back as his cock spread her lips and her silky-smooth purse descended around him. She leaned forward, her gorgeous breasts hanging from her pale chest like ripe fruit. He wanted little more than to squeeze and bite them, to suckle at her teats like a hungry animal.

Oromeia knelt atop his cock and Bromm seized her by her hips. The dryad tittered with delight as he began to thrust into her, the clapping of their hips together overpowering the furious stroking of the seven onlookers. Bromm clenched tightly, trying to keep from coming inside her immediately. For her part, Oromeia understood what he was struggling with, but did not make it any easier on it. She ran a finger down his chest and leaned her head in close, her hot breath on his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control himself.

Bromm sensed someone close by and his eyes flew open again. Imre had knelt behind Oromeia, one hand on his hard cock and the other holding her steady by the hips. Oromeia twisted her head around to look him in the eye. He smiled hungrily and slid his cock into her asshole. The dryad's mouth dropped open, and she let out a low moan of pleasure. Imre wrapped a hand around her neck and pulled her close for a kiss. They locked lips and entwined tongues. Imre's hand closed over Bromm's as they both grabbed for her tits.

The two men matched rhythms, each of them withdrawing as the other entered, keeping time as they slapped their hips against her supple white body. Bromm felt the slap of Imre's balls against his own as they fucked Oromeia between them, each of their cocks pressing the walls of her orifices against the other's cock. The dryad leaned forward, moaning like a hungry animal, and her pink nipples brushed against Bromm's lips. Bromm clenched his muscles, straining not to come already. Fucking the dryad was better than any other woman he had ever lain with.

"Nystra's Tits!" he cried. She giggled in delight, her big breasts bouncing against his lips as her body shook with mirth.

He seized the moment and latched his lips to a bouncing breast. Oromeia squealed with delight as he sucked and Imre fucked. Her sex pulsed around his cock as the two men drove themselves deep inside her. Bromm felt the climax building in his cock. The dryad could tell, and leaned in to passionately kiss him again. At the same time, she reached beneath herself to stroke his cock as he penetrated her. Bromm could contain himself no longer and, with a mighty groan, spurted his seed into her warm and welcoming sex.

Oromeia did not stop, nor did Imre, who continued to slap his hips against her buttocks. Her delicious breasts continued to bounce in his face, and Bromm slowed his thrusting into her sex. Imre tightened his grip on her, pulling on her hair like the reins of a horse and squeezing her forearm. He too then groaned with release and shuddered, his cum squirting forth into her sex. Bromm felt a trickle run down his slackening cock, though whether the moisture was his, Imre's, or Oromeia's he did not know, nor did he care. He lay panting in the grass, starting up at the sky beyond the dryad's smiling visage and offered a silent thanks to Nystra, Goddess of Tits and Wine.

Imre slid his cock out of Oromeia's ass with a satisfied sigh, but an eager Urgan rushed forward and shoved him away.

"My turn," he bellowed, and seized Oromeia by the hair.

"Hold on a moment," Bromm protested from beneath her. The dryad had craned her neck around to look at the dwarf, and her eyes lit up at the sight of his thick, veiny cock. "Let me get out from beneath her first."

Urgan paid him little mind, instead shoving his cock into the dryad with a roar. She squealed and giggled; her attention diverted from Bromm as he awkwardly scuttled out from between her legs. Urgan was grunting with exertion, his muscular hip slapping against her soft white buttocks. Heyne approached them, his cock in hand and laid a plaintive hand on the dwarf's shoulder. Urgan paid him no mind, his eyes fully fixed on his cock and the dryad's ass. With a flash of annoyance, Heyne turned Urgan's head toward his cock and the dwarf obliged him at last.

Nyvald stepped forward and knelt beside Oromeia. Urgan spat out his lover's cock and pointed a gnarled finger at the Northman.

"Her cunny is for my lad here, wait your turn," he snapped.

"I can't resist the sight of an empty purse," Nyvald protested, reaching between her legs to play with her sex.

"Heyne, lad, get beneath her legs and fuck the lass before he steals her away."

Heyne abandoned Urgan's mouth and did as he was told. Nyvald retreated with an annoyed sigh while the lad slid himself underneath Oromeia and thrust his cock between the pink lips of her purse. The dryad squealed again as he entered her and planted her hands on his chest to look deep into his eyes. Heyne managed a shy smile, but the dryad's body began to shake violently under Urgan's lustful fucking. He roared and she squealed while Heyne grasped at her bouncing breasts. Bromm lay in the grass, propped on one elbow, and watched.

It was a delightful time. The sun was shining overhead, and a cool breeze blew through the valley, carrying the dryad's delighted giggling with it, along with the titillating slapping of flesh on flesh. She was a sight to behold. Bromm had never seen such a beautiful creature before. Her eagerness to fuck eight sunbeaten sailors in quick succession only further inflamed his desire. And so he watched, stroking his flaccid cock, as Heyne and Urgan fucked her, alternating between kissing her and each other, until at last they came.

Urgan emptied himself into her asshole, which was still dripping with Imre's cum. Heyne spasmed inside her first, but then clenched off his cock and stood up from the grass to unleash himself on her face. Oromeia giggled with delight as her face was spattered with white seed, her mouth open and tongue extended to catch it like life-giving rainwater in the desert. She lapped it up and squeezed his cock, hoping for more. Heyne stood panting, hands on hips as the dryad played with his cock. Urgan approached him and gave the lad a slap on his ass.

"Well done, lad." He pushed himself up on his tiptoes and kissed Heyne, who gave him a contented smile.

"Now that that's all done," Nyvald barked, "Turn over, girl. I want to fuck your ass." Oromeia obeyed, laying back in the grass and cupping her breasts. Pyet stepped forward and stood over her, his stiff cock jutting out before him like a ship's bowsprit.

"What do you say, Nyvald?" he asked with a smile. "You have her ass and I'll take her snatch?"

The Northman nodded. "Aye. Here, girl, get on top of me."

He lay back and she climbed atop him, sliding his cock into her well-used, cum-dripping asshole. Pyet knelt by her open sex and slipped his cock inside. They fucked her while Nyvald gripped her by the hips and Pyet by the breasts. Oromeia turned her head to look at Nyvald beneath her, and puckered her lips for a kiss. Nyvald grimaced, seeing the cum still adorning her pretty face, and averted his gaze. Disappointed, the dryad turned to Pyet.

Pyet gleefully obliged. He kissed her soft red lips without regard for the other man's seed on it, even though it stuck and attached to his own face. The sensation seemed to arouse him further, for he fucked her furiously, her buxom chest heaving with each blow, until he at last pulled out and unleashed a spurt of cum onto her chest. Some went as far as to land in her mouth, where she eagerly lapped it up, while most landed in the valley between her breasts and ran down her white stomach to pool in her navel.

Nyvald was annoyed that some of Pyet's cum dripped off the dryad and onto his body below. He scowled as little droplets fell upon him, but did not slow his pace of fucking. Soon enough, he came as well, emptying a third load of seed into her tight little asshole. Beaming, Oromeia slid off Nyvald to lie beside him in the grass.

Bromm looked from her to the two sea rats, the last men left unsatisfied. They were both standing to the side, furiously stroking their limp cocks. Before them, Bromm saw cum staining the grass. They got too eager, he thought to himself with amusement. Jeraw sensed Bromm's gaze and looked up from his cock sheepishly. He gave him a shrug and let the member fall from his hand.

Oromeia saw what had happened and stifled a giggle. She lay back in the grass and stretched herself out, a wide smile on her face. Urgan had seated himself on a rock, holding the naked Heyne in his lap and caressing him. The dwarf stroked his own beard thoughtfully and Bromm groaned internally. A story was coming.

"Ah, that takes me back to when I was a young dwarf just out of the holds. Often we couldn't afford to have a whore for each of us, so we'd all pitch in for one and fuck the daylights out of her skull until we could no longer walk!"

Oromeia sprang to her feet. "That was the most fun I've had in ages! Come along now, after such a fuck, I need a bath!" She darted past them toward the tarn, her bare feet dancing gracefully across the grass and her long blonde hair flowing in the breeze behind her. Bromm leapt to his feet and ran naked after her.

They splashed together into the cold, clear water of the tarn, sending white waves rolling across its surface to break on the far shore. His skin broke out in gooseflesh as the chill ran up on his body and he stopped, waist-deep in the water, as his feet refused to carry him any further.

The dryad splashed deeper into the water until her breasts was submerged. She turned toward him with a delighted smile and behind he heard more splashing as the others came to join.

"Too cold for you, sailor?" Oromeia teased Bromm. "I would have thought you used to cold water."

"When sailing, it is usually best to remain aboard the ship, rather than in the sea below."

She laughed. "Don't be such a coward!" She stepped closer to him, her white chest rising from the water. She too was breaking out in gooseflesh, and her pink nipples stood out clearer against her pale skin, diamond droplets of water hanging from them. Oromeia swept an arm through the water, gathering a wall of cold water behind it until she unleashed the wave against Bromm.

He yelped as the wave broke over his chest, the bitter cold cutting deep. He gasped for breath, his teeth chattering, and hunched his shoulders for warmth. Looking back to Oromeia, the dryad crouched low in the water with just her eyes above its surface, but through the clear water he could see that she was smiling impishly.

"You'll pay for that," he chattered, and plunged deeper into the tarn in pursuit of her. She fled, laughing, and Bromm felt the cold water clutch him in its icy grip as he sank deeper within the lake. The dryad was in here element here, and stayed always out of Bromm's reach. They rose from the water as they approached the opposite shore and now Bromm's longer legs gave him the advantage. He caught her by the hair, but let it go immediately for fear of hurting her. Two strides later, he seized her by the arm and pulled her close. Oromeia blushed as he kissed her, and her soft hand closed about his cock.

Bromm lay her down in the grass and, hands entwined, fucked her again. Oromeia wrapped him in her arms and legs, moaning softly as he whispered into her ear. He finished in her again, and they lay together in the grass. Her blue eyes danced in the sunlight and he felt a sense of peace overcome him.

I could stay here forever, he thought.

It was Urgan who interrupted his thoughts. A shadow fell over the two of them and he looked up to find the dwarf standing over him, still naked and wet from the tarn.

"Captain," he growled, his narrowed eyes fixed on the naked dryad. "We should be going if we want to make it to that second ruin."

Bromm sighed. The dwarf was right. He had thought to send for Sahat and the others and give up the life of a sailor. The five of them could let Urgan take the ship and remain here in Oromeia's valley, living off her bounty and spending the nights and days inside her. But as beautiful as she was, his heart remained with the open sea and the far horizons, and so he gave the order for the men to begin preparing to move on again.

The men filled their flasks from the wide tarn and picked fruit from the bounteous boughs in preparation for their march. Oromeia approached Bromm with an expression of curiosity but also sadness.

"Where do you go now?" she asked. Bromm sighed. He wanted to stay her and fuck her forever.

"We are headed for the ruins beyond your crags. We search for gold and other treasures."

"You may find much there, though I have little knowledge of the island beyond my valley. But beware my brothers, the Brolkarai."

"The minotaurs?" Bromm asked.

"Yes, I forgot to use your name for them. My father's savage spawn. They live for only carnage and carnal delights. They will devour you if they catch you. If you need return here, you will be safe in my valley. They may enter only by my invitation."

"I will remember that. Thank you, my lady, for your hospitality."

"Thank you, Bromm the sailor," she replied.

"I am afraid we must go," Bromm said with a heavy heart. "I have others of my crew waiting on us, and there is still much of the island to see. Perhaps we will be back soon."

"Take some of the lotuses. I know they are valued like gold among your people. My garden is plentiful enough, it will be my gift to you."

"I am deeply thankful, Oromeia," Bromm replied. "But I fear I have no gift to give you in return."

She laughed and grabbed his cock. "You have given me all I wanted. Now go. It is growing later by the moment, and the Brolkarai will be looking for you."

With much complaining, they at last set forth from the valley again. Oromeia waved farewell, still naked and glistening with the water of the tarn. Bromm set a hard pace for his men, hoping to get them away from the valley before any thoughts of going back overpowered the group.

His goal lay in sight as they crested another rise, a broken gray finger jutting up from the green forest ahead of them. The men cheered in triumph, doubling their pace. They crossed a small stream, startling a trio of colored birds into flight. Bromm paid them little attention as they spiralled up and through the trees into the clear blue sky. His attention was fixed on the ruin ahead of them and his mind wandered to what treasures they might find there.

With the ruin in sight, Bromm spied a path to it that led through a bit of marshy low ground. The others objected to such a constrained approach, but with no further sign of the minotaurs who had ambushed them, Bromm prodded them onward. Urgan grumbled as he usually did, but with Pyet and Imre enthusiastically championing Bromm's leadership, they wound their way across the swamp from one bit of dry land to another until finally they came to the far side where the ruin lay across a meadow of tall grass.

"Careful now," Urgan hissed in his gravely voice, "this is the perfect place for another ambush."

"We killed them all before and we'll kill them again," Bromm shot back, and forged through the tall grass with a saber in hand. The grass was dry and brittle, it cracked under his hands and feet as he walked. His path became clearly marked by a trail of trampled grass through which his companions followed. A cool sea breeze gusted through the meadow and the grass waved all around Bromm. For a moment, he feared that Urgan might be right. Any number of minotaurs might be concealed barely an arm's length from him and he would never know it until they burst forth to slay and devour him.

The far side of the meadow came not a moment too soon and Bromm emerged to find himself standing a stone's throw from the gray ruin. It had once been a tower, sticking up gods-only-knew how high into the clear blue sky, but now it had rotted and crumbled away until only a narrow arc of the cylindrical wall stood more than twenty feet from the ground. All around its base were fallen blocks of hewn granite. Bromm regarded the ruin curiously as his companions emerged from the brush behind him. Any satisfactory explanation of what these structures were for or who had built them still eluded him.

Bromm had never before considered himself to be of a scholarly bent, but these ruins piqued his curiosity. On occasion he had encountered scholars in the taverns of great ports. Usually they were in search of artifacts to buy off sailors, but more than once he had encountered a scholar who wished to hire a captain to take him to a ruin or other site of interest overseas for the purposes of study. Few captains wished to go prowling ancient ruins instead of running cargoes - or stealing cargoes, and the scholars so rarely had much money to pay them, so these endeavors rarely went anywhere.

But as he pushed open the rotting door to the ruin, Bromm found himself wishing that he had a scholar on hand to explain what he was looking at. The room beyond the portal was an old sitting room, worn away by time and weather. A threadbare carpet caked with dust and mold lay stretched across the floor except for the places where dripping water had rotted holes through it.