Wedgie on an Island

He opened his mouth to speak but his throat was dry and he found that he couldn't speak. He closed his mouth again and saw that she was smiling widely at him.

"Three," she whispered, and he shivered in the growing night, although it was getting colder, this was a shiver born from pleasure, that racked his body, not generating more heat, but acknowledging the heat that was already building in a certain part of his body.

"Two," her voice, a sweet coo, was almost lost under the combined sound of the swaying trees and the waters that surrounded them, but he heard her as if she was the only thing on the island.

She had already started moving her hands, these supple fingers that spoke of strength, but also tenderness, were behind his back, resting atop his Hawaiian shorts, feeling the waistband of it as if she were practicing what she was going to do to his underwear. He thanked himself quickly for taking such good care for the underwear he was wearing right now as well, being alone on an island some people might not have cared, but as a wedgie fetishist he was always looking to get a wedgie. So he always kept his underwear in nice condition. The worst thing that could happen now was if they were dirty and she freaked out.

"One," he moved his arms around her back, he had to flip the bottom of her dress up a bit, but she had moved it enough so she wasn't sitting on it. He pushed the dress aside and felt the skin of her back, she trembled under the touch of his cold hands touch.

She returned the favour by putting her hands on his bare back above his shorts and he shook. The two of them laughed, but it was a shy laugh born out of a bashful nervousness from never having done anything like this before. They looked deep into each other's eyes, he saw the desire, the lust, and the whole situation began to feel all the more real to him. His heard picked up speed, and he could feel, despite the cold, a small sweat break out over his skin

She giggled again, he knew more than a second had passed, but was waiting for her to make some kind of move, he could feel her fingers in the back of his shorts, fondling the waistband of his white briefs. He didn't want to jump the gun, and surprise her, thus ruining the moment, but it was so tempting to just grab her underwear, he still wasn't exactly sure where it was, but feeling around quickly and he touched a soft fabric, it felt like a full back of panties which to him doubled the excitement, it would have been a bit of disappointment if after all this build up, she was wearing a thong that ripped after one pull. Although the wait was starting to irk him, he willed himself to wait. It was better if you had to wait, he tried to tell himself, it built the excitement up more. But he was plenty excited already, and was growing tired of waiting.

He felt her hands tighten on the waistband of his briefs and he gripped her underwear, and as one, they shifted toward one another. They dragged their knees across the sand as if simultaneously agreeing that the wedgie would be better if they were closer together.

He thought they were only going to move a bit closer, but she kept coming, scooting across the gap between them getting closer to him until their chests were almost touching. She leaned forward, her butt staying in the same place, with his hands still holding the underwear. She leaned toward him, until her head was resting on this shoulder. She moved nearer to him, until their bodies were pressed together. He could feel her heart beating she was so close. Or maybe it was just his heart, beating unusually fast. He hoped she couldn't hear, or feel it. But he also wondered what she would think to know he was this excited.

She turned her head toward his ear, they were so close that her lips were almost touching it.

"Wedgie me!" She whispered, and she slowly began to pull on his underwear. His briefs crept up his back as she gave them a delicate pull, testing the fabric, and seeing what his reaction might be. He didn't even pull her underwear for the first few seconds after she pulled his. He was struck by the reality of his situation, here he was, trapped on a deserted island, with a hot girl, who was giving him a wedgie in one of the most intimate, and desirable ways he could imagine. The briefs tightened against his crotch, pressing on his groin, and began a slow rub like a rough hand, touching him, sliding along his skin, evoking an instant pleasure that he didn't understand how everyone couldn't feel.

"Wedgie me," she said again, and he could hear the desire, the need again. He didn't know why she was so anxious, but he didn't have to ebe told a third time. He lightly pulled on the back of her underwerar, trying to peek over her shoulder to see what kind of underwear she was wearing. A big part of the fetish for him was having to see the underwear as it was getting pulled. She didn't mind that he was getting closer to her, and as her rested his head on her shoulder to get a good look at her panties, she adjusted her head so she was looking not at him, but at the beach and the water behind him, staring out toward rescue and the home, but the guy wondered if she was thinking that all she needed was right here and right now. In the moment as she pulled his underwear up, and it climbed into his butt, and he tugged, as slowly and softly as he could, he wondered if this really was a paradise, and he had reason to believe it was. He was careful not to hurt her; pain wasn't really his thing anyway, but he knew wedgies could hurt, and also knew that hurting her would be the quickest way to make sure something like this never happened again. And, he was somehow able to joke despite the pervading feeling of pleasure that was beginning to permeate his body, that would make living on a deserted island unbearable.

"Wedgie me!" She insisted, her voice still a whisper but her breath more laboured now, as if the slight pull she had given and received had already begun to tire her out. He obeyed feeling her hands do the same, forcing the fabric further up his butt, cramming it into him, and the rough hand that had lightly been rubbing him, not became more like sandpaper scraping at his butt and his groin, the feeling was a little discomforting, but like wood subjected to sandpaper, it had to be sanded down before it could be used.

The friction of the underwear grinding up and down his butt, began to create a slight heat in his groin and butt, but also inside of his loins. She squeaked as he gave her underwear a harder pull, they had only been doing this for a few seconds but just the sensation of the underwear being wedged up his butt, the fabric a hard stone, pushing against him, but harshly caressing his skin as it was moved against him was enough have him almost panting in excitement as his white briefs stretched up his back. He could feel her breathing and the quick beating of her heart. Her red dress prickled his skin as he kept a grip on her panties, he was thrusted forward by a hard pull on his underwear, and trying to be careful, returned a slightly harder pull. He imagined the underwear was entering her now, invading her by splitting her right down the middle. Her underwear was, thankfully, made out of a firm fabric that allowed it to endure constant strain that the man inflicted on it, he gave a few quick pulls, lifting up and down, she followed suit and soon the two of them were rocking against each other their bodies pressing and moving away in what looked like a synchronized dance move. Her hair flew over his face, and he pushed his face against the side of hers, they moaned in each other's ears, their bodies squirming because of the pulls delivered by the both of them, the underwear rubbing all the right places in all the right ways. Caressing and chafing against them, they seemed to be one person, gyrating in between two pairs of underwear that was extended behind the two lone survivors.

"WEDGIE ME!" She yelled, and he didn't tell her to quiet down, they were alone on the island. She could be as loud as she wanted.

He forgot all about being careful, and not hurting her, it was like he was possessed by the basest primal instincts, but what could he expect? He was living on a deserted island after all. He hauled up on her underwear, she fell toward him, and the two of them almost toppled over backwards. But he kept his balance on his knees, making sure to pull her underwear harder and further up her butt. Now the pressure of the underwear was starting to make itself known, the cloth began to tear as threads popped. And the pain in his butt was like someone taking a hot poker and forcing it all over his lower body, but the heat was so pleasing.

He wondered what it was like for her. This wonderful, beautiful; women who seemed to be giving as good as she was getting. Not letting his underwear fall below his midriff, tugging at it like it was something stuck beneath a door and needed to be pried out. Both pairs of underwear condensed until they more resembled rope than anything people would use to cover themselves. And the ropes clawed themselves deeper into them. He moved his face, turning it to, and adjusting his head so he could look into her eyes.

He didn't hesitate, as he gave the underwear another pull, he forced his lips against hers, but it wasn't forcing so much, because that's exactly where she wanted them to be.

Her lips parted by the movement of tongues of different fabrics that shared the same goal of giving pleasure. Their tongues danced in their mouths, their faces jammed together like their bodies that were moving with such commotion it was almost like they were vibrating. It became an all-out free for all, as both of them just began to tug the underwear as hard as they could, no longer even thinking about hurting others or what might be left of their underwear afterwards.

Their bodies rose together in one last literal climatic pull, their arms and muscles straining against the fabric, gravity and their own share pleasure that seemed to overwhelm them like the underwear that encapsulated it all. The fire in his crotch was surely felt by her as their underwear lifted the back of their feet off the ground, once more threatening to upset their balance. But they found equilibrium inn one another and pulled harder on the underwear, their mouths still pressed together as if their bodies had been melded together in the forges of their ecstasy.

They pulled their lips away long enough so they could moan in mutual signs of pleasure. The underwear inched itself against and into them as it had been doing since they began to pull, but now it was different, it was being pulled for a reason, to a destination, and they were coming to it together. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and their heads almost knocked together as they moved up and down like they were on a road permeated by speed-bumps. But they didn't slow them down at all. They sped up, bouncing up and down on their knees, gasping and panting, their hearts racing to the pulls and yanks of the cotton fabric being heaved up and up and up. He opened his mouth wide and raised his head to the sky to wail out a cry of such absolute pleasure he had only ever dreamed of before, the fire, an inferno, and the underwear, a hand, shook him with its friction and rocked his body until he was spent. His rocking ceased and for a moment there was nothing but the serenity this island seemed to have in abundance, no worry of food, or shelter, or rescue. There was only her, him, and the wedgies that could come.

She let out similar sounds and he slowly let go of her underwear when she quieted down.

He didn't say anything, and for a few seconds the two of them knelt on the beach in perfect silence, looking at each other, listening to the sounds of the waves and island. She released his underwear and it snapped against his back as hers did when he did the same. He kept his eyes on her, but slowly allowed himself to lay back on the sand, feeling it against his back, and feeling it gather on his underwear he didn't touch. He would have to get her to work the sand out with a couple pulls. He smiled at the thought.

It was growing late, and he didn't think himself tired, but he discovered he was at peace in a way he had never been before. It was funny how out of this horrifying situation he found such happiness. And he drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed of wedgies and the woman.

He woke during the night, a fire was raging near him, not a sexual one, but a real one, it seemed awfully close, and the man moved back slightly, amused at the sweat he had built up on this cold night. He had thought of a name for his book, they would write it together he decided and even knew what the...climax would be. He couldn't wait to tell her.

He turned his head and there she was, facing the forest, her back to him. The fire behind him.

"Hey, I got the perfect title for our book." She jumped slightly at the sound of is voice, cutting the dark silence of the night, but she didn't turn around.

"I want to name it-" he began, but was cut off when she rose to her feet and shuffled in a circle, he could barely see something in her hands, something heavy it seemed, because she was having trouble lifting it. He went to get up to help her, but she completed her turn quickly, pivoting towards him, and he had time to wonder what she was doing with a giant rock in both hands. But first he recognized the look in her eye. He saw it in the briefest of flashes, in its truest and purest form. It wasn't any kind of sexual desire, or primitive longing. It was a far simpler thing. It was hunger. She was hungry. And then she brought the rock down on his face. And he knew no more.

She put all her weight behind the rock, basically falling onto the man, with the rock crushing his face. But she didn't want to be surprised by him still being alive, so she lifted the rock up, it was slick with his blood, but she managed to lift it enough so she could drop it back on his face. She did this a few more times.

"Sorry," she whispered to the mangled mess that was left of his face. "I was hoping to do it while you slept, but I only just got the rock ready. You have to understand. I'm getting hungry...and the food...it wouldn't have lasted that long. Besides, we need meat. You understand," she said.

"But I wanted your last night to be the best you ever had. I hoped you were pleased," she said. And that was the last time she spoke to what was going to be her food for just over a week; at which point she was rescued.

-

Press Conference. The sole survivor, and soon to be author of Me, Myself and Island, having been on the island for close to two weeks, spoke to journalists as to how she managed to survive. What follows were her concluding remarks. It should be noted that she broke into tears when she spoke about the man, she would not however, say with any real detail, what happened to him. We can only assume he was injured when the boat capsized and didn't last long on the island.

"The most important thing, and the thing I have to say to everyone is that I didn't give up hope. I didn't let fear control my actions. I wasn't alone on the island, not at first, anyway, there was a man, a wedgie fetishist, he called himself, and he helped me survive. He's the reason I'm here today. I don't think I would have made it without him. He saved my life."