Roland DeForrest: The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey

“We don’t even know for certain they’re alive,” she wailed.

“No, we don’t,” he replied gravely. “All we can do is hang on and pray.”

“Dammit,” she cried, “I’ve been doing just that for weeks and weeks.” She clung to him like a life raft in the open sea. “I’m sorry,” she groaned, trying to stifle her sobs. “It just gets worse, doesn’t it? The time gets heavier. The tension becomes unbearable. I can’t even find joy in my dancing anymore, always remembering why we’re here. And that we can’t do anything to help them.”

He kissed her pert nose, which, above all of her astounding physical attributes, reminded him of her young sister’s. Her soft, pliant breasts mashed into his bare chest and he fought the desire that rose like an express elevator inside his chest. She wrapped her long arms around him, her breath quickening, and returned his kisses with increasing passion. His bird of paradise poked insistently into her creamy belly, struggling to be free of the confining cutoffs. Deftly her hands slid down his front and she unbuttoned his shorts. At once his stiff bird fluttered out and into her warm palm. Almost absently she began pumping on it, and his fingers sought out the moist folds of her pussy. Probing deeply, he brought a gasp from her and she opened her thighs wider, granting him freer access to her buried treasures.

He was just about to ease into her when a female voice called out from the living room, “Hello, hello, anyone home?”

“Honey!” he croaked in surprise and bounded from the waterbed, leaving Barbro riding the resulting waves by herself. He trotted into the large green and white main room full of white wicker furniture, and pulled up in joyous disbelief.

Coming to him with open arms, his sister, dressed in baggy white sailors fatigues, glanced at his free-flying bird and stopped short, a smile tweaking her mouth. “My, my, my,” she teased. “Caught you in the act, eh?”

Behind her, Kolina, also attired in the strange naval attire, whirled to look out the open front doors, a becoming blush coloring her magical face. Embarrassed, he stuffed his fast-dwindling pecker back into his cutoff’s and rushed to embrace Honey, sweeping her into his arms. “How’d you get away? What happened? Was there any trouble?” he asked in quick succession, his heart overflowing with love and relief.

“Kolina!” squealed Barbro behind him, as she dashed into the room, tugging on his short bathrobe. “My darling sister, you’re free!” The two sisters ran into each other’s arms, shouts of joy and tears of unmitigated happiness flowing freely.

The unexpected reunion of the two sets of siblings was a confusing jumble of hurried explanations and expressions of love and devotion. Even Dirk found himself teary-eyed, overwhelmed to be in the warm circle of his dear sister’s love once more. Gradually the incredible story of their escape from Galapagos and their subsequent rescue by the Ecuadorian fishermen surfaced to the point of comprehension. Honey and Kolina had been picked up off the fishing boat by an obliging U.S. Navy supply ship-hence their sailors’ garb-and brought to within helicopter distance of Kauai. They had landed on the beach only moments before, and now danced excitedly around the living room, congratulating themselves on their luck and thankfully praising the powers that be for their miraculous escape. Again and again he kissed his sister, not wanting to let her out of his arms.

When the three women finally retired to the bathroom to shower and change into more appropriate attire, Dirk broke out a special bottle of chilled Lafitte Rothschild champagne, vintage 1928, that he had been saving for just this occasion. Four glasses were poured and ready as the trio of lovelies returned, dressed in brightly flowered, flowing Hawaiian gowns. Ceremoniously he handed them each a full tulip glass and raised his in a toast. “To happy reunions and happy endings,” he intoned solemnly, and sipped, his eyes wandering from happy face to happy face. He felt blessed to be surrounded by such unbelievably beautiful ladies; each was as lovely as the next, and each glowed with a special energy befitting the moment. But the magical Kolina was the one who caught and held his eye. Almost shyly he studied her exquisite beauty, mesmerized all the more by her intoxicating loveliness.

The bottle of champagne was finished quickly and he popped the cork on another. The high-spirited chatterings and exclamations continued, joined by the Rolling Stones blaring out of the top-of-the-line stereo system. Still more vintage champagne was consumed, along with some sensational home-grown Hawaiian grass, which flourished in a bushy plot beside the secluded, slate-roofed house, and line after line of Dirk’s top-grade coke.

By the time the sun sank behind the palms, the quartet were as high as kites on a windy March day and they had joined forces to prepare a giant feast of celebration. The freezer was raided for pheasant and squab, the vegetable garden provided greens and yams, the fruit trees were stripped of bananas and mangoes, nectarines and papayas. As Dirk concocted a huge fruit salad, Honey baked the birds and vegetables in the microwave oven, and the two sisters created a fresh strawberry pie topped with mounds of whipped cream.

The candlelit feast turned out to be as delectable as the company, and they stuffed themselves, laughing, chattering, singing, and drinking more bottles of Rothschild’s champagne. Dirk brought out one of his cameras and began recording the joyous event for posterity. The women’s flushed, relaxed, and breathtakingly lovely faces were a photographer’s fantasy come true, not to mention their alluring bodies, so modestly draped in Honey’s colorful gowns. He longed for them to disrobe so he could really get down to his true forte of nude shots, but he did not press it, knowing that all good things work out according to their own timing. Besides, he was getting off on the trio’s interreactions, the sisterly way in which all three related to each other, full of love and respect and good-natured kidding, as though they had grown up together. Barbro could not stop touching her younger sister as she hung on her every word and often burst into tears of unadulterated joy.

As night deepened, stars forming a bright canopy overhead, they trailed outside in the balmy air full of sweet tropical fragrances of gardenia and jasmine. The gentle waves on the beach at their doorstep whispered good tidings and Honey was the first to doff her gown, running like a flash of pale moonlight into the water, laughingly calling the others to join her. Dirk watched in stupefied delight as the Swedish sisters eagerly stripped off their long dresses and, giggling, bounced to the waves, their high, proud breasts jiggling like Jell-O. He did not need a second invitation and immediately dropped his shorts, blissfully unaware that his bird of paradise had taken wing and was jutting out from his groin. Only when he dove into the warm water did he notice the drag of his hard rudder. Groaning at the unexpected tug, he flopped over on his back.

Laughing hysterically at the sight of his stiff periscope, the ladies splashed and frolicked in the waves, their luscious bodies glistening and sparkling in the dim light reflected from the beach house. He floated near Kolina, and playfully she made a grab for his partially submerged bird. Her fingertips just grazed it before she shrieked with uncontrollable laughter and swam away. He dove under the surface and came up, latching on to her smooth legs, wrestling her to him.

The touch of her fair skin on his sent him into a state of righteous enjoyment. Willingly she allowed him to explore her body beneath the water. His hands were all over her, not able to get enough as she was constantly wiggling free. He clamped his arms around her waist and dragged her close, digging his stiff peter into her thigh. She chortled and wrapped her legs around his hips, her mouth seeking his. For a delicious long moment they kissed, her tongue raking the inside of his mouth. He grabbed two handfuls of her ass and ground his hips against hers. The head of his panting bird poked like a homing pigeon into her open nest, and she writhed on his lap.