Frank Anvic - Swap island

"They-they think we're dead," said Jim, a look of surprise on his face.

"Missing, Jim," Pete said, not without kindness.

"Heavens? What must our friends think? Our folks? Oh, I hope my mother doesn't have heart failure when she hears that news."

"That news is from Tijuana, Jim," Pete explained. "The L.A. stations probably won't even mention us. Relax. Your mother'll be okay." Before Jim could reply, Darlene came back with the two girls. The rain had already started up again and the wind was rising in pitch.

"Golly, it's cozy in here," said Olive, shaking out her hair. She wore a light parka that didn't hide her considerable breastworks, and shorts that revealed her fine young legs.

"Yeah, really groovy and all," echoed Cathy, who was dressed in a sweatshirt of her father's and a pair of jeans cut off above the knees.

Again, Pete felt that tightening in his scrotum, as he looked at Olive Baker. Right now he didn't care if the storm lasted for a week. He wanted to part those legs of Olive's and put his log between them until the come ran down them like a river of milk.

The breakfast and radio broadcasts about their predicament seemed to bring everyone in the adobe together for awhile. At least the tensions were not apparent after they had all eaten together and cleaned up afterwards. Late in the morning, the girls went back to their cabin while Pete, Jim, Bunny, and Darlene played cards and drank tepid beer. The more Pete drank, the more difficult it became for him to concentrate on the gin rummy game. He kept thinking of Jim's daughter, Olive.

Later, when everyone in the foursome was fairly drunk, Pete got up, swaying slightly. "I'm going to check out the boat," he announced.

"Good," said Bunny. "I'm beat. Think I'll take a nap." She gave him a look that told him to stay close to her.

"Me too," said Darlene. "I'm shot."

Pete grumphed and picked up a fresh bottle of beer and opened it. He drank a swallow and lurched out of the adobe. Jim watched him with undisguised hatred and Bunny made note of this. Darlene went over to her side of the adobe, too drunk to care about anything, and curled up in a sleeping bag.

Pete knew what he was going to do. But he was not so drunk that he wasn't wary. He wondered how he would separate Olive from his daughter. That would be the difficult part.

He wanted the girl so much now that he couldn't bear the thought that he might not be able to have her. But something inside him rose up, a feeling of confidence, a surge of self-assurance, and Pete knew that he would not fail in his mission. His manhood was hard in his trousers as he walked to the girls' adobe.

His eyes lit up when he walked in the open door. There would be no problem. No problem at all. Cathy, his daughter, was asleep, and as he looked at Olive, he put his finger over his lips in a gesture of silence.

He motioned for Olive to follow him outside. The girl got up, still wearing the sweatshirt and shorts and deck shoes. When they were a safe distance away from the adobe, Pete spoke to the daughter of his accountant.

"Let her sleep, Olive. You want to come with me. I-I want to check the boat out."

"Sure, Mr. Lonsdale," Olive said eagerly. The sight of Cathy sleeping had made her feel frustrated. She had wanted to crawl in the sleeping bag with Cathy, but had known how that would have looked if anyone had come by-and Mr. Lonsdale had. Curious, she followed him, her heart beating slightly faster than normal. She wondered why he wanted her to go along. She shrugged. Perhaps he had come to get both girls but had decided to let his daughter sleep. It was as good an explanation as any.

Pete sobered somewhat on the stroll to the Sea Stud . Watching that bouncing ass of Olive's was enough to make him sort out his thoughts of what he was going to do. He wondered why the more ass he got the more he wanted. But he had always been that way. When he fucked a woman he wanted her again and again. And after leaving that woman's presence he was horny to fuck another one. "The more you get, the more you want," summed it up for Pete. And walking to the boat with Olive made the truism more pertinent than it ever had been.

Olive exuded sensuality. Pete had noticed it before but circumstances had prevented him from pursuing her further. She was like many young girls who blossom early and by the time they're in their early teens, they're openly inviting older men to fuck them… He could picture those plump baby fat thighs of hers just waiting for his big cock to slither over them into her young cunt. Peter got a hard-on just thinking about what he'd like to do to Olive what he now fully intended doing to her.

For her part, Olive was not completely unaware of the effect she was having on Pete. He had telegraphed something to her back in the adobe when he had put his finger over his lips to make sure she didn't wake Cathy. She didn't know the extent of Pete's desires for her, not yet anyway, but she did know that her female charms had hit a responsive chord in the older man. Just knowing this gave her a feeling of extreme self-confidence. She was curious about why they were going to the boat, however. And although she knew that Pete admired her body, she didn't dream that he would go any further with her, much as she might enjoy this. It just never entered her mind. Like many young girls she underestimated the aspirations of some men, the boldness of experienced, mature lovers. Certainly she underestimated Pete Lonsdale. At first, but not for long.

At the Sea Stud , Pete helped Olive aboard. No sooner had his feet hit the deck than the storm hit again, the rain slashing at their bodies like ice picks flung by a wind of at least 50 knots. Blackness descended as the brunt of the storm enveloped the Sea Stud and its two solitary occupants.

"Quick! Inside the cabin!" Pete ordered, guiding Olive across the slippery rain-washed decks.

She needed no urging, and, dripping wet, she half-tumbled into the shelter of the cabin. The Sea Stud rocked on its sandy perch as the tide rose. lifting it up on a smoother plateau of sea.

"From the looks of it this time, we'll be here quite awhile," Pete told Olive. His eyes glistened in the darkness of the cabin. "Let's go below or we'll be wetter'n a couple of hens."

Olive laughed, enjoying the excitement. Below, Pete turned on a low intensity lamp and the bunks seemed to invite them both to the coziness of slumber. The rain drummed against the decks and the hull as the wind howled and Pete looked at the crumpled bunk where he had fucked Olive's mother the day before. It reeked with the musk of love and he could think of no more appropriate place to take Olive.

He went to the liquor cabinet, unlocked it and selected a bottle of Jack Daniels. "How about something to warm you up, Olive?" he asked. "Later we can have some coffee."

"Sure-I-I guess so, Mr. Lonsdale," she said.

"Call me Pete," he husked, twisting the top off the fresh fifth of Daniels.

Olive laughed low and shook her wet hair out so that it would dry. She sat on a lower bunk and Pete looked down at her plump legs sticking out from under the sweatshirt. For sixteen years old she was built like a brick shithouse, he mused. He poured her a stiff double shot and handed it to her.

"Just sip it, Olive," he said, "It'll warm your bones. I'll get you some water to wash it down. But if you sip it, it won't burn."

He poured himself a double shot and got a glass of water for Olive from the nearby tap.

She sipped the whiskey and smiled up at Pete. "It tastes good. And it does make me warm."

"Good."

Pete sat down on the bunk next to her. He clinked his glass against hers in a toast and they both sipped their whiskey. The warmth seemed to clear Pete's mind and he wasn't nearly as drunk as he had been when he was drinking the beer. Olive's eyes moistened from the whiskey but she seemed able to handle it all right. Pete was very close to her and she realized then that they could do anything they wanted to-that they were stranded and safe from the others in their party.