Island Fever 4: Paradise
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

M/F, F/F and a whole lot more

Chapter 18: "Home"

              -*-  Tuesday, June 16, 2015  -*-
                  -*-  Hamilton, Ohio -*-

   The headstone was engraved with simple, block letters -
Donald F. [Last Name], December 13, 1965 - November 4, 2012.
Beneath it, the epitaph simply read, "His life a beautiful
memory, his absence a silent grief."
   I placed a reassuring hand upon Lindsay's shoulder as she
knelt at the final resting place of her father.  I tenderly
caressed Lindsay's neck as she sprayed the modest marker with
a cleaning solution and then used a towel to wipe it dry.
   "Dad's grave is always covered with dirt and mowed grass
every time I visit here," my wife complained.  "I really wish 
they did a better job of upkeep around this cemetery."
   I motioned toward the wooden bird house dangling from a
shepherd's hook no more than five feet from the marker.  "You
want me to fill it, honey?" I asked, cradling a bag of bird
seed on my right arm.  "Or do you want to do it yourself?"
   "You can," Lindsay answered, glancing up and over her
shoulder at me for a brief moment, before returning to her
cleaning duties.  I proceeded to carefully pour seed, trying
not to spill any, into the bird house until it was full.
   Ever since arriving in Cincinnati on Sunday afternoon for
our little, private vacation for two, I felt closer and more
emotionally intimate with Lindsay than I ever had before.
The fact that Lindsay was newly pregnant was certainly a
major contributing factor, but getting to spend these few
days alone with her were wonderful and fabulous for me.  All
of my time and energy had been exclusively devoted to her.
   I loved having the opportunity to watch Lindsay interact
with her family here in Ohio, whom she missed dearly, yet
rarely got to see because we made our home in Norway.  Our
trip to the park yesterday was very special and memorable
for me, too.  I was so accustomed to being with Lindsay with
the other ladies in our lives around as well.  This was
certainly a very different side of Lindsay - and in an equally
different environment - than what I was used to.  I actually
wished our one-on-one vacation lasted longer...
   After having breakfast at the downtown hotel this morning,
I drove Lindsay to the cemetery and told her that we would
stay here to visit with her father for as long as she wanted.
I felt extreme sympathy for her as she knelt and dusted off
the tombstone.  Both of my parents were still alive (thank
God), so I would not even begin to think that I knew how
Lindsay felt at the current moment.  She loved her father;
he was her hero, her idol, and his memory was sacred to her.
It still tore her apart inside that he was no longer alive.
   Lindsay did not say anything or show much emotion over the
following ten minutes once she got comfortable and settled
into a seated position.  I opted to allow her some privacy,
venturing off on my own and exploring various other parts of
the cemetery.  Spiked, black fences surrounded the graveyard
almost as if it was a ghostly prison.  The smell of old stone
filled the dry air, weeds covering the graves of the dead.
   On the far side there were several tombstones, some
toppled, some crumbling from age.  There were people buried
here - families - dating back as far as 200 years.  It was
disheartening to see memorials for several 1800's era children
who did not make it past their first or second birthday.  It
made me appreciate modern day medicine and science even more.
Just the thought of losing Kaden or Piper - either of my 
children back home in Norway - at such an early age made my 
stomach painfully churn.  I would not be able to handle it.
   I glanced back toward Lindsay and sighed in exasperation.
It may have been a hot and humid day at 85 degrees, but
Lindsay still wore a knitted blue scarf - which belonged to
her father - loosely around her neck.  Lindsay truly believed
that the restless spirits here would leave her alone as long
as she had one of her father's favorite possessions with her.
She even claimed it would ward them off.  The scarf rippled
and billowed in the light breeze as I watched her lips move.
She was openly talking to her father.
   No harm could come ever come to Donald again.  The life
that dwelled within him was gone and he was safe from the
perils of the world.  A heart that used to beat with love
was now still, yet his memory would never be forgotten.
   "You okay, honey?" I asked Lindsay once I returned to her
side, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her forehead.
   "He likes you," Lindsay simply said, smiling somewhat.
"Daddy likes you, Jeremy.  He told me so."
   Smiling myself, I dropped down to one knee beside Lindsay.
"Tell your father I appreciate that, honey."  I kissed her on
the forehead again.  "Do you think maybe your dad would like
to talk to me?  I want to tell him how much I love you, how
special you are to me.  And I would like his approval for our
life and marriage.  Do you think I could maybe meet him?"
   Lindsay turned and glanced at the quiet earth beneath us
for a few seconds, then focused upon me with a full, happy
expression.  "Daddy says he would be honored to meet you!"
   When we left the cemetery a good four hours later,
Donald's tombstone and its surrounding area popped with
vibrant colors thanks to Lindsay's special touch.  She
decorated it with a wide assortment of bouquets and flower
arrangements, put up a pair of sun-catchers, wind chimes and 
a beautiful wreath.  She also left a memorial rock at the 
base of his marker, with an engraved inscription.
   "If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane,
I'd walk right up to Heaven and bring you home again."
   This was the first time that Lindsay had visited her
father since just before her wedding with Trish this past
December.  He was forever a delicate subject with her, so it
should not come as any great surprise that Lindsay was a bit
emotional once we left the cemetery.  She promised her father
that she would be back to visit him again sometime soon.
   But best of all, I got that stamp of approval from him.
According to Lindsay, her father gave us his total blessing.
   I promise to love and take care of your amazing daughter,
Donald, for as long as I shall live... and then beyond.  And
with all of the many, wonderful things I have heard about 
you over the past two years (and everything I will hear in 
the future), I look forward to shaking your hand one day.

                           * * *

   Lindsay and I returned to our hotel room after visiting
the cemetery and took a much-needed shower, then ventured
back out and drove up to her family home in [City Name].
Lindsay's mother (Leslie) and her three sisters were waiting
for us.  After two hours of spirited and fun conversation, I
offered to treat everyone to an early dinner at a restaurant
of their choosing.  Ahhhhh, they were indeed women after my
very own heart - they opted for _Red Lobster_.  Fresh seafood
was my absolute favorite.  It was healthy, and delicious!
   In the morning - on Wednesday - Lindsay and I debated what
our itinerary should be for the day.  Tomorrow morning, we
would board our family jetliner at the Dayton International
Airport and fly back home to Norway.  We wanted to go out and
spend our last day here together, and have a good time.
   Not only did we experience a great deal of fun, but I got
the added bonus of continually gawking at Lindsay in a
little, two-piece bikini swimsuit for the great bulk of the
afternoon.  She and I went to _The Beach Waterpark_, which
was located in Mason, Ohio, for swimming and sun.  Wave pools,
slides, a lazy river, zip lines... this waterpark had it all.
The staff was friendly and attentive, and the food was decent.
   It was a family friendly atmosphere, yet the beautiful and
vivacious Lindsay gathered a lot of attention as she paraded
about and flaunted her immaculate figure in an American flag
inspired swimsuit.  Red, white and blue fabric featured the
stars and stripes in a bikini top with white string lines.
The side-tied, matching thong bikini bottom definitely made
her stand out from all of the other women at the park.  I
even caught several guys eyeing her on multiple occasions.
Who could resist the sight of Lindsay in a little bikini?
She was gorgeous, and not afraid to let others know it.
   I was content to relax and spend the evening at our hotel,
but Lindsay knew how much I enjoyed professional sports, and
the local baseball team, the Reds, were in town playing host
to the Detroit Tigers.  Lindsay suggested that we buy tickets
and walk down to _Great American Ballpark_ to catch the game.
   I had never actually been to this stadium, which opened in
2003, before.  All of my memories of the Reds and baseball in
Cincinnati were from old, dilapidated Riverfront Stadium,
which was demolished a decade ago and no longer existed.  I
used to go there several times a year when I was a kid and
cheer on childhood heroes such as Eric Davis and Barry Larkin.
   The new ballpark, though, was definitely an experience
that I will never forget.  Lindsay and I were able to get
tickets directly behind home plate; we could even see
ourselves on the big, video scoreboard at several points
throughout the night.  The fire from the riverboat smoke
stacks with every strikeout and the fireworks after every
home run was a spectacle in and of itself.  The food was
good too; I came close to gorging (Lindsay's term) on hot
dogs and chili fries, but enjoyed a barbequed pork sandwich
from _Mr. Reds Smokehouse_ more than anything else.
   The game went into extra innings, but ended on the highest
of notes at 1:20am local time as Todd Frazier of the Reds hit
a grand slam home run in the bottom of the 13th to send his
team to an 8-4 victory.  Lindsay, who was dressed up in full
baseball garb yet knew barely anything about the sport, let
alone the players involved, said that she had a wonderful
time and we would definitely have to come back here to watch
another game during a future visit to Cincinnati.  Trish was
an avid sports fan, Lindsay reminded me, and she would
absolutely love it here.
   By the time it was 7:00am, Lindsay and I had already
checked out of our hotel and were actually having breakfast
with her mother and three sisters at their family home.  It was 
a sad, tearful goodbye, yet all of the ladies reiterated how 
happy they were for us as a married couple that Lindsay was 
finally pregnant and was well on her way to motherhood.
Considering the quiet lust for Alison that was raging inside of 
me (and getting stronger), it was good to get away from her.
   At 10:00am, our plane took off from the airport in Dayton.
Eight hours from now - which would be midnight in Norway - we
would touch down in Oslo.  This time, I came prepared.  I had
been up the whole night and, after the exhausting events of
yesterday (first the visit to the waterpark, then the baseball
game afterward) I had plans of sleeping for most, if not all,
of the flight.  I even took a sleeping pill and went straight
to the master bedroom in our _flying hotel_ of an aircraft.
Flying and I rarely seemed to agree with each other, so this
was my way of trying to eliminate the hassle of it altogether.
   Oddly enough, my plan worked to near perfection.

                           * * *

   Our family jetliner touched down at Gardermoen Airport in
Oslo, Norway at 12:33am Friday morning.  Lindsay and I left
our private flight crew to deal with the plane, and we were on
the road and driving back to our home in Sandvika by 12:45am.
   Although I enjoyed the little excursion with Lindsay to the
United States and at times wished it lasted longer, I was
given a vivid reminder of what I had here in Norway once we
stepped out of the vehicle in front of our family's estate.
Lindsay and I were literally met with a welcome wagon.  Even
at such a late hour, Kristanna came rushing over and hugged
me fiercely at the earliest opportunity.  Pamela soon joined
her, making it a triple hug, and both ladies were emotional
as they spoke about how much they had missed me this week,
and how happy they were that I was home.  Meanwhile, Lindsay
was getting bombarded with hugs and kisses from Trish.
   Things became even better once Devon and Scarlett entered
the picture, carrying Kaden and Piper, respectively, in their
attentive arms.  It was definitely well past the bed-time of
my 11-month-old and 7-month-old pair of children, yet that did
not deter me from showering them with kisses and affection as
well.  They were tired and fussy, and obviously not in the
best of moods, but I was overjoyed to see them regardless.
   Kristanna and Pamela continued to hug and love on me even
as I took Kaden and Piper into each arm and cradled them to
my shoulders.  When they finally relented, Kristanna and
Pamela turned their attention toward Lindsay.  At the same
time, I had a nice, little reunion with Trish, followed by
Devon and Scarlett.  Indeed, I led quite the charmed life.
But someone very important, I quickly noticed, was missing...
   "Where is Amy?"
   "Sleeping," Kristanna told me in response.  "She has not
been feeling well the past couple of days."
   "Is she okay?" I asked, concerned.
   "Amy is deep into her pregnancy," Pamela reminded me.  "It
is normal for her to have stretches where she feels tired and
sluggish, like now."  Pamela smiled sweetly and added, "Plus,
I think Amy has really missed you this week, Jeremy.  She is
not quite the same without you around."
   "None of us are," Kristanna pouted.
   "We didn't want to wake her up," Trish chimed in.  "All of
us figured that she could see you in the morning."
   "Well, _I_ am going to wake Amy up," I announced to the
group.  "Because I want to see her."

   Moments later, I was alone as I stepped into the sprawling,
luxurious bedroom that I shared with my six wives and one
fiancee.  Upon the mattress was the magnificent and alluring
Amy, who quietly slept away in a black modal maternity robe.
I could not help but to smile; Amy's baby bump seemed even
more pronounced than it was when I last saw her five days ago.
   I knelt down next to Amy and grasped her left hand with my
right.  It seemed a bit swollen, but that was normal for a
woman well more than seven months into her pregnancy.  "Amy?"
I whispered, gently kissing her cheek.  "Baby, you awake?"
   My 32-year-old bride stirred for a brief instant, then her
eyelids fluttered open and she gazed at me.  "Jeremy..." Amy
sighed, her lips forming a tender smile.  "You're home."
   I squeezed her hand a bit tighter and used my opposite to
rub and caress her bulging belly.  "How are you doing?"
   "Better now."  Amy glanced around for a moment, but then
re-focused upon me.  "Where is Lindsay?"
   "She'll be along shortly," I promised.  "Hey... I heard
you haven't been feeling good the past few days.  What's up?"
   Amy glanced toward her baby bump and breathlessly giggled.
"I'm getting fatter?"  She shook her head and added, "Just
feel worn down, exhausted.  Scarlett says it is normal."
She smiled at me again.  "Did you and Lindsay have a good
flight back from America?  How's my old home, Ohio?"
   "I slept for seven of the eight hours during the flight,"
I countered.  "And Ohio doesn't change."  I leaned down and
kissed her on the lips.  "I missed you, Amy."
   "I missed you too, Jeremy," she whispered.  "All of us
missed you and Lindsay so much.  We haven't been apart for an
extended amount of time like that since we first got together."
Amy frowned at me.  "I don't like being away from you."
   "I'm home now."
   "Yes, you are."
   I again squeezed her hand, then kissed her forehead.  "You
are so beautiful to me right now."
   Amy tried to sit up, but winced instead and quickly gave up
on the idea.  "I definitely don't feel beautiful."
   "Why don't I take you to the doctor in the morning?"  Amy
shook her head at me as I insisted, "Come on... the doctor
can check you out and see if something is wrong with you.
You could have a virus, or something."
   "I'm fine, Jeremy," Amy squeaked.  "I feel happy, I feel
cranky, clumsy, emotional, irritable, excited, nauseous,
moody, sore, stuffy, thirsty... I'm a pregnant woman."
   "But can you bend over and touch your toes?"
   "No!" she replied emphatically to my silly question.  It
was a horrible attempt at humor on my part.
   "I want you to go to the doctor in the morning," I told
her, literally putting my foot down.  Amy would never refuse
me when I used this particular tone of voice on her.  It was
the submissive streak in her.  "It is for your own good."
   "Okay," she relented.  "I'll go."
   I nestled up close to Amy upon the bed and settled down
beside her.  "How's my little girl doing in there?" I asked,
again massaging her baby bump.  "Been kickin' this week?"
   "Oh yes," Amy huffed in response.  "Lots."
   I nuzzled my face upon her neck and held it there, taking
in the wondrous, fresh scent of Amy's strawberry perfume.
Remembering past pregnancies with Kristanna and Pamela, I
knew that I would be devoting a lot of time and effort to
Amy - much more than any of the other women in our lives -
during the next several weeks until our daughter was born.  
As her husband and Dani Grace's father-to-be, it would be my
duty to soothe and coddle Amy through the tough times ahead.
I was going to do everything within my power to make certain
that she would feel comfortable, and perfectly at ease, both
before and after our little angel was born.
   "AMY!" Lindsay exclaimed as she entered the bedroom,
hopping up-and-down like a bunny rabbit on steroids, as
Trish followed behind her.  "Amy!"  Lindsay darted over
toward us and climbed over top of me, resting her stomach on
my side, and shared a spirited, emotional embrace with Amy.
   "Hi baby!" Amy greeted her in return, laughing gently, as
they kissed.  "Oh... it's so good to see you!"
   "Hmmmmm, I've missed you!" Lindsay growled, giggling.  The
two ladies kissed yet again as Trish sat down beside me and
clutched my shoulder in a display of affection.
   "You okay?" I asked Trish, reaching out and touching her
stomach.  Of course, Trish, along with Lindsay and Amy, was
pregnant.  All three of them were carrying a child of mine,
although Trish was only six weeks along, and Lindsay five.
Neither of them were anywhere close to showing yet.
   "I'm fine," Trish assured me.  "Perfectly fine."
   "Where are the others?"
   "Krissy and Pamela are putting Kaden and Piper down in
their cribs as we speak," she mused.  "Devon and Scarlett
stopped for a quick snack in the kitchen."  Trish smiled at
me.  "I cannot believe you went to a baseball game.  Do you
know how jealous that makes me?  I used to go and see the
Blue Jays eight, ten times a year when I lived in Toronto."
   "We will definitely put that on the agenda the next time
we are visiting your family in Toronto," I promised her.
   Trish giggled and poked at Lindsay's shoulder.  "Do you
even know a single thing about baseball at all?"
   Lindsay shrugged her shoulders and offered a red-faced
expression to her wife.  "Pitch the ball... hit the ball?"
   "I didn't think so," Trish chortled.
   I quickly got the sense that Lindsay wanted to hug and
kiss on Amy all night long.  Normally I would have no
objections to that, of course, but Amy was not feeling up
to par and I felt as if she needed her rest.
   "Let's allow Amy to go back to sleep," I told Lindsay,
breaking up their love-fest.  "She is feeling a bit ill."
   "Awwwww," Lindsay whined in sympathy.
   "No, I'm not!" Amy fired back at me.  Hmmmmm... that was a 
_pregnant mood swing_ if I ever saw one.  Amy did not seem to
enjoy it that I had essentially instructed Lindsay to back off.
She even raised her voice at me, and became snippy.
   "Go to sleep," I told Amy, my voice firm and authoritative.
Lindsay knew what that tone meant.  She went docile and silent
just like Amy did, each of them falling into their submissive
shell.  "You and I are going to the doctor in the morning."
   Amy meekly nodded her head at me, then turned her face to
the side and closed her eyes.  Still, she and Lindsay shared
a few quick-hitting kisses before they both fell asleep.

                           * * *

   "Okay, what were the categories again?" I asked Pamela, 
who was reclining on the sofa beside me, her legs draped
over and across my lap.  Dressed in a pair of faded denim 
jeans and a snug-fitting tank-top, but having foregone the
use of any shoes or socks, I used this golden opportunity to 
lovingly knead and massage Pamela's pretty, bare feet.
   "There are four categories," Pamela reminded me.  "Smart,
sexy, funny and cute.  But you can only be two things.  Like
Kristanna would be funny and sexy.  Scarlett would be smart
and sexy.  You get it?  Only two things.  So, what am I?"
   "Wait," I said.  "What am I again?"
   "You're smart and cute."
   "Okay," I nodded.  "You're sexy.  Very, very sexy."  I
weighed the three remaining options.  "And cute."
   "No, that's not right!" Pamela insisted, gently flailing
her arms and hands at me.  "Sexy and cute are both in the 
looks column.  Nobody wants to be all in one column."
   "I really would be lying if I did not say that you are all
four, which obviously you are," I mused.  "Especially sexy."
   "You're the best," Pamela grinned, sitting up and lunging
forward, tossing her arms around me for a touching embrace.
   The time may have been 3:27am, but Pamela and I were wide
awake on this Friday morning as we idly hung out and lounged
together on the sofa in the central room of our estate.  It
took some effort, but Pamela and I were finally able to get 
Piper to go back to sleep in her crib about an hour ago.
Since that time, Pamela and I had been reuniting and making
up for the five days we had been apart from each other.
Everyone else was fast asleep in the master bedroom.
   "I almost called you the other night," Pamela murmured,
biting her lower lip as if she was about to say something
forbidden.  "I was so worked up and lonely for you.  I... I
wanted to call you, Jeremy, and have phone sex with you."
   My eyes went wide at those words.  Phone sex?  With Pamela? 
"Oh, you should have called me.  You definitely should have."
   Pamela reclined back on the sofa yet again and giggled at
me.  "I came close, trust me.  But I know what a great time
that you and Lindsay were having during your little vacation.
I thought... I don't know, like maybe... I would intrude, or
something.  That was your time to be alone together."
   "If you EVER want to have phone sex with me again, honey, 
you stop whatever you are doing and make that call," I told
her with a grin.  "I don't care who I am with, or what I am
doing.  You promise me now... you will make that call."
   She slapped my shoulder.  "You sound just like a man!"
Pamela giggled a bit.  It was obvious that she was extremely
relaxed now and at ease, and very happy that I was back in 
her life.  "How many times... did you and Lindsay actually 
fool around during the trip, and have sex?"
   "Just once," I answered, which apparently Pamela did not
believe at first.  So, I elaborated, "On the flight from 
Norway to the United States, we took a shower together and 
wound up back in the bedroom.  But that was it, really.  It
was mostly a nice... platonic, little trip.  We took a few
other showers together, but nothing really happened in them."
   Pamela grinned at me, the expression upon her face full of
wanton mischief.  "So that means you're rested?"
   I chuckled.  "Lindsay and I had sex nearly every single 
day for weeks until official word came that she was pregnant.  
It was nice to take a break, honestly, and just spend time,
be around Lindsay the actual person.  You know?  We had so 
much fun together in Ohio.  I actually feel as if I got to
know her a lot better... her background and stuff."
   Pamela smiled, her effervescent, champagne-brown eyes 
twinkling.  "I bet Lindsay had the time of her life with you."
   "Any crying episodes from Piper this week that I should 
know of?" I asked, referring to our 7-month-old daughter.
   "No, I think her colic is finally gone for good."  
   During the first few months of her life, Piper was a 
_colicky baby_.  A mystery to medical professionals, colic 
is a term that applies to any healthy, well-fed infant who 
excessively cries for more than three hours per day, three 
times per week, for three consecutive weeks.
   Unfortunately, Piper suffered from this early on.  But it
was a common ailment and the pediatrician, after two thorough
examinations, ruled out any cause for concern (such as an
irregular heartbeat or acid reflux, for example).  He told us
to wade through it, and Piper's colic problem would disappear
on its own once she reached four or five months old.  Sure 
enough, Piper had been crying a lot less in recent weeks.
She was back to being a normal baby now.
   Still, it had not been easy to watch my newborn daughter 
cry for hours at a time.  She had been experiencing some sort 
of discomfort somewhere, yet we had no idea what it was.  I 
was simply happy that the problem appeared to be resolved now.
   I tapped Pamela on the chin a few times until she was
looking right at me.  "You, my dear... I've missed you this
week.  I missed all of the girls."
   A smile danced across her face.  "We missed you, too.
And Lindsay.  Trish was going insane without her around.
Krissy and I were watching old videos of you in the voyeur 
room, reminiscing about memories from the island."
   I moved until my lips were just centimeters away from 
Pamela's, our breath mingling in the space between us.  I 
leaned closer, tilting my head to the right, until my lips 
were brushing against hers and I could hear the rapid beat 
of her heart in the space between us.  Suddenly, I wanted 
this woman.  Bad.  "I love you, Pamela.  I love you so much."
   A smile curved up one side of her mouth.  A very sexy,
seductive and amazing smile that soon overtook her face.
"I love you too, Jeremy.  You're everything to me.  You and
Krissy, actually... everything."
   Pamela giggled like a schoolgirl as I reached out and
pawed at one of her breasts through the tank-top she wore.
It was incredibly thin and, since she did not have a bra on
underneath, offered little barrier.
   "What are you trying to get at?"
   "Those titties," I answered, using a word that did not
come out of my mouth all that often.  Still, Pamela chuckled
regardless.  She was definitely comfortable, and at ease.
   But then, Pamela surged into me, her hands tangling in my
hair, crushing the distance between us.  It was hard, it was
fast, it was incredible; almost like a dam bursting.
   Just that quickly, Pamela was kissing me and yanking my
shirt out of the waistband of my trousers.  My head pounding,
desire coursed throughout every vein within my body.  Pamela
got my shirt off and tossed it to the side, and then her hands
were on my skin.  Whatever arousal I previously felt was
nothing compared to the nuclear bomb that her touch ignited.
   Pamela pulled back, though, again biting her lower lip and
smiling shyly at me.  "I've wanted to do that all week!"
   "What?  Kiss me like a crazy woman?"
   Pamela moved back even further, then popped one of her
incredibly large, yet firm breasts out from beneath the fabric
of her tank-top.  With an awe-inspiring 38d-24-37 figure, 
Pamela's breasts were what dreams were made of.
   "Oh wow," I reacted, grasping that breast and squeezing it
firmly.  "Let's get them both out."  I pulled her neckline
down even further, exposing the opposite breast.  Pamela
enjoyed the attention; she laughed as I cupped the warm,
sweet globes, rolling their exquisite flesh within my hands.
   "They don't want to come out!" Pamela exclaimed, making a
reference to how the top was taut and strained against her.
I traced my thumbs over her nipples and she gasped, arching
her back forward and jutting her breasts out even further.
   I took a moment to allow my eyes to focus as the lights
in the room bathed Pamela's skin with a soft gold glow.  I
used a single finger to dab at the corner of her mouth, and
she giggled yet again in response.  "You are beautiful."
   Pamela blushed, pale crimson filling her cheeks and
flushing her chest.  God, I loved this woman so much.
   "Oh my God," I gasped, as Pamela simply pulled her tank-top
up and over her head, disposing of it completely.  She was
beaming at my reaction as I stared slack-jawed at her topless
form.  The 32-year-old cupped her breasts with both hands and
squished them together, then jiggled them about.
   I placed two fingers between the lush, deepened valley of
her cleavage and Pamela trapped them there with her breasts,
as if they were my cock.  She squeezed as hard and as tight
as she could, applying maximum pressure.  She glanced down at
my fingers and chortled, "I want a pearl necklace!"
   "Okay." I said, coming to a realization.  "You need to
give me a blowjob now."
   "Oh really?" Pamela laughed.
   She effortlessly dropped to her knees in front of the sofa
and gave me a military salute.  "Yes sir!"  I watched Pamela
with appreciative eyes beneath me as she began the process.
"Oh, you would have a belt on," she complained, needing a few
extra seconds to unbuckle and then unloop it.  She pulled my
trousers and briefs down and then, my erection, full and 
throbbing as it was, popped out before her very eyes.
   "Well, hello!" she squealed.  Pamela gave the underside of
my shaft two long, sweeping licks with her tongue, then took
its tip into her mouth momentarily.  "I've wanted to do this
all week, too!"  She gripped the base of my cock and then
began to work its upper half into her hot, insatiable mouth.
   "Oh my God, you are amazing," I commented as Pamela stared
up at me with those languorous, round eyes of hers.  She began 
to bob her head back-and-forth at a slow, but steady pace, the
expression upon her face indicating that she was experiencing
just as much, if not more, pleasure than I was at the moment.
   "Those eyes are so pretty," I gasped, which did nothing
but prompt Pamela to focus her gaze on me even more.  "Oh yes
sweetheart, that's it," I said as she withdrew my shaft from
her mouth, only to swipe and dab at my testicles with her 
velvety tongue.  She sucked one into her mouth for a moment,
then trailed her tongue up the full, rigid underside of my
erection and again took it into her hungry, greedy mouth.
   "I love your cock," Pamela murmured.
   "It loves you."
   Pamela began to frig her hand up-and-down the length of
my shaft, her mouth following suit and swallowing more of me
in the process.  I reached down and grabbed my cock, abruptly
pulling it from her mouth, and tilted it upward until its tip
was touching my abdomen.  With my testicles suddenly dangling
before her face, Pamela got the idea and started to lovingly
twirl her tongue in circles all along their sensitive flesh.
   "I know you like being told what to do, even though you
act like you don't."
   Pamela laughed at me.  "Maybe."
   "I didn't say stop.  Keep licking my balls."
   Pamela did as instructed, but when she closed her eyes, I
violently flung my shaft forward and bopped her forehead with
it.  "You big jerk!" my wife squeaked at me, giggling wildly.
I smacked her forehead with my cock again for good measure.
   I stepped back, then got rid of the trousers and briefs
which had been bunched together at my thighs.  I placed my
hands on either side of Pamela and gently pulled her upward
until she was standing before me.  I flicked open the clasp
of her jeans, then slid them down her shapely hips and legs,
and off.  Suddenly, Pamela was wearing nothing but a little
pair of G-string panties.  But they became a distant memory
too as she quickly got rid of them.
   Pamela was an incredible woman, intoxicating, strong and
amazing.  I began kissing her again, her lips, her neck, her
breasts, her abdomen, every square inch of her that I could
never quite get enough of.  And when I dropped to my knees
and kissed Pamela at the joining of her thighs, she gasped
breathlessly and her hands dug into my hair.
   Needing to satisfy my own lust, I stood and hoisted Pamela
into my arms, then took her over to the edge of the sofa and
set her down there.  She eyed me expectedly as I spun her
around and bent her over the arm of the sofa, her legs spread
and feet on the floor, her shoulders and the side of her face
now upon the cushion.  It was a lewd position for her to be 
in, yes, but it was perfect for what I had in mind.
   Pamela grunted and cried out in arousal as I grasped her
hips with both hands and thrusted my cock into her from
behind, one long, smooth glide, then another, another,
another, until I was lost in the amazing world that was
Pamela and she was calling my name in a soft, pleading tone.
Her blonde hair, ore-gold bright and luxurious, whipped and
shimmied about as I pounded myself into her even faster.
   I staked my claim to not only Pamela's body, but her
soul as well, as I slapped her upturned ass with my hands
not once, not twice, but three times.  The strict, but not
too harsh level of discipline only added to the wondrous
sensations for both of us.  Soon, our bodies were bumping
together quite violently, the sound of my pelvis crashing
upon her ass reverberating throughout the spacious room.
   "Oh my God!" Pamela cried out as I spanked her some more,
but then decided to up the ante.  Reaching forward with both
hands, I grasped her long-flowing hair just beneath her neck.
Pamela growled like a wild animal as I pulled back, arching
her neck and head in the process, only to then thrust my cock
in-and-out of her again.
   "Oh my God!" Pamela repeated as I hammered her from behind,
my hands not about to release their grip or the tension on her
hair.  "Oh my God!  I'm so wet!  Oh my God!"  Her body twitched
and convulsed beneath me, her breasts flopping about madly.
   "JEREMY!" she roared out.  "JEREMY, I'M GOING TO... OHHHHH!"
Pamela's magnificent body contracted into me with a massive
spasm.  At the same time, I released her hair and wrapped my
arms around her from behind, pulling her as close as possible.
My legs trembling, my hips bucking, I came inside of Pamela.
I came hard, and with intense emotion.  I nearly passed out.
   I held her there until our hearts slowed and our breathing
evened out.  When I released Pamela, she sort of just wilted
and crumpled onto the sofa as if it was her final act in life.
Quite the contrary; in reality, it was just Pamela absorbing
and processing the aftermath of such a heated sexual encounter.
   Eventually, I helped Pamela sit up on the sofa and handed
her clothes back to her, though I would have preferred to stare
at her beautiful body in all its naked glory for the next 100
years.  "Stay," I whispered.  "Stay with me here tonight.  We
can fall asleep together in the pull-out bed on this sofa."
   Pamela raised those alluring brown eyes to me and smiled.
"There is no other place I'd rather be."

                <<<- End of Chapter 18 ->>>

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"Island Fever 4: Paradise"

(c) 2015  JeremyDCP

- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com

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