Micah's Island, page 4
“Do you have food?” I asked. He just stared, blinking, his mouth slightly open.
I made the motions that any human would make when they were eating: opening my mouth, pretending to put something in, and chewing. That triggered a response.
He gripped my upper arm with excitement and pulled me down to the lower deck, near the covered arbor. He had a veritable cornucopia of island fruit stored here, from bananas to coconuts.
“Excellent!” I said enthusiastically.
He forcibly sat me down on the deck, broke several bananas off the clump, and handed them to me.
He sat down across from me and watched me intently as I peeled one. Now I know how the gorillas in the zoo feel. He didn’t take his eyes off me for a second, which made a little uncomfortable.
I peeled a banana and handed it to him. He took it tentatively, still not taking his eyes from me.
I kept talking to him, asking him questions, though I knew I wouldn’t get a response. I didn’t know what else to do. We needed to communicate, but I hadn’t heard him make any sound louder than breathing. Not even a grunt. Even Tarzan did that.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly through my nostrils as I ate. My life had suddenly taken a hard left into fascinating.
~***~
I was thirsty. I didn’t think I needed to ask permission to get a drink (not that he would’ve understood me anyway). I got up with the intention of walking to the freshwater falls, but he jumped to his feet and blocked me.
I stared at the center of his chest before I lifted my eyes to his. He had a look of fierce determination on his face. I was a little scared.
“It’s okay. I’m not leaving. I just want to get a drink. Don’t you?” I made motions like I was drinking out of a glass, and then it occurred to me that maybe he’d never seen a glass.
I cupped my hands together and tipped them to my mouth. The light of comprehension came on in his eyes. He took my hand, pulled me up the deck, and off we went to get a drink.
~***~
He walked slightly ahead of me as he pulled me along by the hand. All of him was gorgeous, but he had a particularly fetching little man butt. Round and solid, with dimples on the side.
I tore my eyes away from his ass and blew out a breath. I was a healthy young woman with raging hormones. I have always been an intrinsically sexual being.
How long would I last hanging out with this beautiful, naked man? How long would it be before I caved and really gave him a lesson in our differences?
He was a sexual Pandora’s Box. Should I open it? Or would I regret it?
I shook my head. It was far too early in our relationship to think about sex. I didn’t even know his name. If he had one.
For the first time, I thought about Tiago. I had no family on the island but Calvin, and he didn’t care what happened to me. Surely Rico or someone would miss me.
Would anyone come looking for me? Or would I live out my life on this island with the strong, silent type?
Curiously, the thought of living out my days here with him didn’t cause me any anxiety. He was eye-candy deluxe, and he’d been very kind so far. There are worse ways to spend your life, right?
I resolved not to think about it just as we arrived at the freshwater pool.
Chapter Seven
I’ve never had so much fun on a date. Not ever.
We got our drinks and then frolicked like children in the pool. I even heard him laugh a little, which made me laugh in response. If he couldn’t speak, at least he could make sounds. It lifted my spirits considerably.
I left him floating on his back and went to look for the margarita shaker I had with me the night before. When I turned to go back up to the pool, I caught him looking anxiously over the edge. He was watching me to see if I was going to run.
He’d gotten quite attached to me in a very short period of time. It was amazing. Not that I cared. Where was I going?
And two together were much better odds than one alone.
~***~
We went out onto the beach and sat in the sun for a time. He found me fascinating; or should I say, he found my various parts fascinating. Just now, he was fixated on my right arm.
It was amusing to watch him turn my hand all around and examine it. He spread my fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration. I was one giant science experiment for this guy. Really, I don’t know what was so mesmerizing. He had hands and fingers too.
He got up on his knees when he got to my shoulder. I wouldn’t have minded, but I was practically eye level with his semi-hard cock.
I stole a look at it as he rubbed, touched, and sniffed my shoulder. It was all too obvious that he was the proud owner of a Grade-A package. His balls were big and heavy, dusky brown, hanging temptingly behind a very thick, fairly lengthy penis. He grew very hard as he fondled my shoulder. I tried not to imagine him pushing inside me, arching his back and coming, but I couldn’t do that with his cock staring me in the face. I felt myself go wet.
Before I could think about it, I reached over and ran my hand over his abs and around his muscular waist. His whole body jerked; he wrapped one hand tightly around himself.
I looked up into his eyes. They were starting to glaze over. He hadn’t expected me to touch him. And he certainly hadn’t expected to have that reaction to my touch.
His reaction fueled my own. Lust slammed into me like a tsunami.
Without warning, he reached out and caught me around the waist, a little rougher than I liked. He jerked me up to my knees and hard against his body.
Dangerous territory. Holy fuck, were we in it!
His eyes, large and dark, stared into mine with more than just curiosity. He was breathing hard through his nose, practically snorting at me.
My pussy clenched tightly. I desperately wanted to feel the fullness of him stretching me. I was so wet it was practically running down my legs. I shouldn’t have done it, but I put one hand behind his head and drew his mouth down to mine. He didn’t resist.
I didn’t know if he’d ever been kissed. If not, he caught on quickly. His lips were soft and pliable at first, then hard and demanding. I leaned into the kiss; without asking my permission, my hands went around him and gripped his buttocks.
He didn’t speak, but his body knew the language. It was communicating very nicely with mine.
He pulled me closer and ground his cock against me. I shifted my hips, moved back a little, and pushed him down between my legs. He was gasping now; my hand on him had really shaken him. I could see he wanted more.
His cock pressed hard against my clit. I groaned. One more second and I was going to be flat on my back in the sand letting this gorgeous man ride me to glory.
I tried to get a grip. I couldn’t...couldn’t...do this. The rules of propriety demanded that I at least get to know him a little better before I gave myself to him. It sounds crazy, but I wasn’t ready to throw 21 years of a pretty moral upbringing to the wind.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t have my O. I was very nearly there. I pulled his hand from around my waist, tipped my hips back, and guided his fingers to the wetness between my legs. I pushed two of his fingers over my clit, rubbing, circling, caressing. I finally collapsed against him, threw my head back and shuddered, crying out in sweet agony.
It was the best fucking orgasm I’ve ever had.
~***~
He was weird with me after that. He lagged behind as we walked back to where he lived. Every time I turned around to see if he was with me, he’d stare at me as if I’d sprouted purple hair and fangs. He was still hard as a rock.
I felt bad and more than a little guilty. He’d felt the same things I did, but he had no name for them. I’d gotten mine, but I hadn’t given him his. I tried to think of a way I could make it up to him.
Really—did it matter if we had sex? He’d obviously been here a long time. I was probably stuck here too. I really had nothing to go back to. Was it wrong for us to share our bodies? Who would care? Who even knew we were here? I didn’t think we needed to live by the restrictions that polite society places on people, especially if it was just going to be the two of us for the duration.
I still felt like I had to find out more about him first. I had to see if he had a name. I had to know something about him before I was intimate with him. It was no longer a matter of if, but when. He was starting to get under my skin. A lot. In a very good way.
He let me have the hammock that night. He slept just below me on the deck. I don’t think I closed my eyes at all. I kept staring down through the netting at the gorgeous naked man sleeping on the floor.
Chapter Eight
Breakfast was coconut milk and some other round, greenish fruit that I’d never seen before. They were very good. Sweet and juicy.
He cracked open the top of the coconuts with a hatchet, which surprised the hell out of me. Where had he gotten a hatchet?
I asked him, knowing I wouldn’t get a verbal response, but this time I wasn’t giving up until I got some kind of an answer. I think he finally understood what I wanted, because he pulled me to the edge of the deck and pointed down into the sand.
It was like his personal junkyard out there, though I didn’t think it was junk to him. There were boat propellers, several old wooden trunks, various scraps of wood, bits of angle iron, rope, and some chain.
“Where did you get this stuff?” I asked him.
He jumped down off the edge of the deck, then reached up and took me around the waist, lifting me down beside him. I wandered around looking at all of it, talking to him as I did so.
“Do you have a name?” I got no answer, of course. I tried a different angle.
I put my hands to my chest and said carefully, “Gee-ah-na. My name is Gee-ah-na.”
A light seemed to come on in his eyes, but all he could manage to say was “Gee.”
I felt like I was on the edge of a breakthrough.
“Yes, yes!” I said. “You can call me Gee if you want to. Gee-ah-na. Gianna.”
“Gee”, he replied.
So far, so good! He was getting it!
I put my hands on his chest and said “Your name? Is it…David? George? Robert? Peter? Michael?”
He shuddered when I said the name Michael. His eyes grew wide, his lips trembled a little.
“Michael? Is that it? Is that your name?” I was really excited now!
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to an old steamer trunk, one corner buried in the sand. Twisting the small key in the lock in the front, he threw the curved lid up and looked up at me with an expression that I can only describe as pleading.
“Is there something in here you want me to see?”
He vigorously dug around in the trunk, finally coming up with what looked like an old photo album. There were a few colored pages of construction paper sticking out of it. It looked as though it had gotten wet quite a few times.
I sat down in the sand. He sat down across from me, elbows on his knees, and leaned forward expectantly.
I slowly opened the book. What I found broke my heart.
There were many faded Polaroid pictures of a man and a woman holding a small boy. Some of the pictures also had a little girl in them. The boy in the pictures was clearly the man who sat before me.
“Is this you?”
He pointed at himself in the picture, then poked his chest. Yes, it was him.
“This is your mother and father? Your sister?”
He didn’t understand that at all, but I knew, given the proud smiles on their faces that they must be his parents. The clothes they wore and their hairstyles dated the picture to sometime in the early 1980’s. (The Chevy Citation in some of the pictures was also a good clue!) That would make him at least 30 years old, probably more like 33 or 34.
“God, how long have you been here?” I whispered. Was he the only survivor of a shipwreck? Had the child raised himself to manhood alone on this island?
He pulled at the edge of the construction paper that was sticking out of the middle of the album. I opened the album to that page.
Various pictures, drawn in crayon by the hand of a child, fell out into my lap. One of them was a stick figure drawing of a man, a woman, an older boy, and a younger girl. A dog and cat completed the family grouping.
I caught my breath. Scrawled across the bottom in blue crayon was a name.
I looked up at him. Goosebumps rose all over me.
“Micah? Is your name Micah?”
He grabbed me by the shoulders, pulled me up roughly, and gave me the bear hug of my life. Everything that had been in my lap tumbled into the sand as he squeezed the breath out of me.
He could hug me as hard as he wanted. He finally had a name. He was Micah.
~***~
He had a lot of interesting stuff out there in his junkyard. I found rusty spoons, knives, and forks, previously waterlogged books, and a couple of old life jackets. Also a machete and a smaller fileting knife—I thought those would be very useful. I was amused to see he had a collection of fishing lures. Poor guy probably didn’t even know what they were. Empty bottles of various colors littered the sand. Amongst them was the horn of an old Victrola record player.
I wondered how he managed to stay clean shaven. Now I knew. I found a broken mirror propped up against a palm tree, and a box of shaving implements.
The contents of the wooden box were amusing. Represented within it was at least a hundred years of shaving; it was like a shaving museum. There were antique razors like my grandfather used to have; the kind where you unscrew the bottom and the top flips open for a double edged razor blade. I also found three salt-encrusted electric Norelcos from various decades, and several dozen unopened packages of Bic disposables. Now where in the hell had those come from? And who taught him how to shave? In any case, finding the razors was a boon to me. Now I could shave my own legs and underarms.
I also found a broken comb and a man’s hair brush made out of tortoise shell. Sadly, I didn’t find any soap or shampoo. For a while there, as I snooped through his stuff, I thought I was going to be able to have my cake and eat it too.
A wicker sewing basket half buried in the sand caught my attention. It was full of old ivory and bone buttons of various sizes. At least a dozen old-fashioned wooden spools of various colors of thread were tossed around inside. I also found some very rusty needles. I could use them if I had to.
I was ecstatic to find an old trunk full of clothing. I pulled out a beautiful blue length of fabric printed with hibiscus flowers—a sarong! I chortled with glee and did a happy dance in the sand. Micah jumped down off the deck, took my hands, and danced with me. I threw my arms around his neck, and hugged him hard before I wrapped the sarong around me.
Micah was an adorable man. There was no pretense in him at all. He was completely without guile, no head games, no how-fast-can-I-get-her-out-of-her-clothes-then-dump-her bullshit. Any man who looked like him back on Tiago was conceited as hell. Not Micah. He wanted nothing from me but my company. He was the sweetest thing, and a welcome breath of fresh air to me. I’d seen enough of the dating game meat grinder back on Tiago.
He must’ve enjoyed my kisses on the beach. He kept stepping in front of me, and staring at my mouth. I gave him a couple more, but nothing too wicked.
It had truly been a wonderful day. I decided I had a surprise for him later. I was going to take a peek into Pandora’s Box.
~***~
I sat next to him under the arbor as the sun disappeared on the horizon and a bright silver moon took over the sky. I could hear the surf pounding on the beach, a few birds continued to chirp in the palms. On a night like this back on Tiago, I might have gone to the beach alone with a piña colada to collect my thoughts.
I was so glad I wasn’t alone. Micah had quickly become my anchor in a world gone mad. Knowing his name completed things for me. He was mine now.
I wanted him badly, but I thought I better start small. What would sex seem like to someone who didn’t know a thing about it? I didn’t want to freak him out.
The night was black; the moonlight gave luster to outline but not detail.
I took the sarong off and moved to sit between his legs. He allowed me to do so. He grunted a little, a question. I pulled his arms around me and cuddled up against his chest. He was warm; he had a musky male scent, and I inhaled him deeply into my nostrils.
I turned a little in his arms and began to run my hands over his chest and abs. I could hear his breathing quicken. I dug my nails in just a little, before I flicked my fingers over his nipples. He grunted again and shifted under me. I could feel his hardness against my hip.
Slowly, deliciously, I slid down his body. My hand found his cock, and he jerked as though he’d been shot. He didn’t stop me though.
I slid the rest of the way down and turned my head between his legs. He opened them a little wider with a slight groan, giving me plenty of room to work.
The pungent scent of him was especially strong near his balls. I ran my nose up the little line that separated his sack and inhaled again. God, I love that smell. He jerked and quivered; I smiled in the darkness. I was about to give him a night he’d never forget.
He was really gasping now. His hips bucked under me as I ran my tongue slowly around his balls. He put his hands on both sides of my head and tried to pull me down on him, but I resisted.
“Easy, gorgeous man,” I whispered. “You have to be patient.”
I cupped his sack gently in my hands as I ran my tongue up and down the length of him. His balls were full and heavy with cum for me. I was going to make sure I drained him of every delicious drop.
I knelt in front of him, gripped him with both hands, and took him into my mouth, running my tongue around and over the head of his cock. He made the loudest sound I’d ever heard him make, somewhere between a moan and a cough.
He flung his legs out straight, tipped his hips up to me, and went limp, his head falling back against the arbor post. He put one hand lightly, almost weakly, on the top of my head as I sucked him.
