Misunderstanding

	©2004 “C”

John Royall had tastes for quick money and quick “action,” as he called satisfying his lusts; tastes well suited to his name . He considered himself somewhat of . . . hell, he was without doubt . . .a marvelous, studly man, beloved by all men and any women who even caught a glimpse of his toned body.

His ego was of course not very inflated by his coterie of hangers-on, most of whom had been bested by John in various endeavors from time to time . . . or, when there was an occasional whiff of chicanery on John’s part, as one of these defeated acquaintances put it, “Royally screwed!” 

Despite the continuing possibility of an outright accusation of stacking the odds,  he had a number of girls and guys who thought that the sun rose and set close behind John, so that he could pose his muscular frame against a proper backdrop. John accepted this as his due, never considering that if the sun did indeed rise and set so close to his possibly vulnerable rear, he might very well be burned, sooner or later.

Now at the very height of John Royall’s ephemeral popularity, he had just concluded a deal which did not blatantly stink so much as possess a faint odor of rotten fish, barely discernible to a discriminating district attorney who had long wanted to stop, or at least slow down, Mr Royall’s methods of operation. The DA laid certain plans, which if consummated might have resulted in some very hard labor for Mr Royall for a good many years. However, true to his nature, John Royall had several years before befriended . . . got out of a tight situation involving some peculation . . . a person who was at the time of the imminent presentation to the Grand Jury of the DA’s evidence against Mr Royall a medium grade official in that same DA’s office.

Mr Royall was safely on a foreign flag ship outside the 300-mile limit when the DA obtained his indictment. Mr Royall had booked a first-class passage to a country with no extradition treaty with the US, oddly enough.  He had rightly figured that the DA might have been able to have him arrested if he had flown, or gone by rail to Canada or Mexico; a comfortable trip on a passenger-freighter with only eleven other passengers was John Royall’s solution to that little problem.

The ship, although mostly intended for the transportation of cargo to certain ports and thence on a round of foreign ports, had rather luxurious accommodations for twelve passengers. John had been very “lucky” to have acquired an outside stateroom on what seemed to be short notice. Well, perhaps “luck” is not the word that the narrator intended. Very little of what happened to Mr Royall occurred because of fickle luck; in the case of the stateroom on a specific ship bound for a country from which the most zealous DA could not extradite him, a careful application of a considerable amount of those funds which Mr Royall had accumulated over some years of Royall entrepreneurship made his climb up the accommodation ladder a few miles outside the 300-mile line reasonably easy. Of course, the specially chartered flight on the seaplane had cost bundle, too, not to mention tips to the sailors who had ferried him from plane to ship, to the captain and purser as well, so John Royall was thinking hard about what new enterprise he might initiate at his destination. 

At dinner that evening he was distracted from his cogitations about his future wealth and how to obtain it by a gorgeous young lady, apparently traveling alone in one of the other three singles staterooms. She was slightly withdrawn, but with his innate gift of gab, his never having kissed the Blarney Stone by no means dulled his tales of mighty deals and fun on various (mythical) beaches and other charming locations, with (mythical) highly placed companions, John soon had her attending his every word in wide-eyed fascination. 

Her name was Mirren Laidlaw and she was red haired, freckled down to what was visible of her cleavage, broad shouldered, well-endowed above and slim hipped below, and a fascinating conversationalist if and when John allowed her an edgewise word. She became even more fascinating to John after their second week of purely platonic  acquaintance . . . and despite his usual “slam bam, thank you ma’am” relations with female acquaintances, particularly after two weeks, he had not made the first move to test her virginity . . . when he discovered after an apparently casual slip she made about her place of residence that she and her sisters owned an entire island!

“Now, Mirren, really, an entire island? I had not known that any unclaimed island existed in this ocean.”

“Oh, Johnny. . . “ so far had Mirren come to like the man “. . . it’s not in the Atlantic, silly, it’s in the Pacific.”
“Really? Where?” asked the shark in John, surfacing after some time cruising well away from a prospective meal . . . er, sucker. Drat these similes!

“Oh, you’ll have to fly with me to Hawaii to get there, Johnny. Want to?” No thought crossed John Royall’s mind that this was an odd, a very odd proposition. Regrettably, after two weeks, and with that predatory shark surfacing, another part of John Royall surfaced as wel and his previously suppressed sex drive drove most other thoughts from his mind. Now he was wondering if he could obtain admittance to Cabin 3-A before the ship docked at its interim destination. 

John had planned to stay with the ship until it reached the ultimate safety of that non-treaty country, but with a sudden onset of carefully disguised excitement, like a shark smelling blood in the water, he decided that it would be well worth his while, if she meant what she said, to accompany Miss Laidlaw to this remote island where only she and her sisters lived. So she had vouchsafed when John casually questioned her about servants, natives and so forth.

“Oh, no, John, you don’t understand. The servants come over daily from the next island, about three miles away. There are a few other people who stay on the island, but they are at the other end and we don’t see them until the festival every three months.”

“Festival?”

“I’ll tell you all about it . . . John, have you decided to fly out to Hawaii with me? One of my sisters is here, in this port we’re coming to, and we were going to fly back together. Will you join us?”

Sister? Shit! went rapidly through John’s mind, but he smiled and said, “We-ell, I had some business I wanted to look into at the next port, but I can put that off until I return. Oh, and how long did you intend to stay in Hawaii?”

He had remembered that Hawaii was one of the United States. If there was a warrant out for him already . . . .
Mirren grinned and said smugly, “We have our own plane, Sister can fly and we’ll never leave the airport, so there’s no customs or immigration to worry about.”

“Uh . . .” Two thoughts crossed John’s mind. These people must be filthy rich if they have an airplane, one of ‘em’s a pilot and she can fly across a considerable stretch of the Pacific — no customs, no leaving the airport, Christ! I’m damn’ near home free.

Another and more important thought was not to cross John Royall’s mind until a good deal later.

“Uh, how are we going to fly, the three of us?” He wondered if Mirren expected him to pay her sister’s and her fares?

“No problem, Johnny, It’s a Dutch airline, Sue’s comped, she can travel free, my fare is paid, so all you have to do is pay your way and we’ll be there in two days!”

That suite John ell, and that was what occurred. Sue was a lovely dark haired girl, with boobs about the size of Mirren’s, the same slim hips and jaunty attitude. She did make one sotto voce remark to Mirren which John heard.

“New recruit?”

“Yeah, probably. Can’t bitch, can you . . .” and John overheard no more. After a few minutes trying to puzzle out that snippet of conversation, he concluded that they weren’t talking about him. 

Surely enough, Sue Burroughs (the name difference was because she was married, explained Mirren, and lately divorced) was comped to a seat, Mirren had her ticket and John at the last minute was able to substitute for another fellow who had become ill very conveniently indeed, considering he had John’s money in his pocket and absolutely no curiosity.

“So, Sue,” asked John when the seat belts were loosened, “you were an airline pilot?”

“Second Pilot on Northwest out of Seattle until I was reminded of the island. I had a messy divorce, she . . . my ex, that is to say . . . was a real bit . . . bastard.”

John thought that with the dull acoustics in the cabin and the sudden slight turbulence he had probably misunderstood Sue, and let her confusing statement go as it was. Mirren was blushing, though, and he wondered why.

The landing on Kauai was uneventful, the plane of which Sue was pilot was thoroughly checked out and the three boarded with no interference from anyone except a mechanic who handed Sue a maintenance log to recheck and acknowledge. The weather was gorgeous for the flight to Mama Island, as Mirren informed John their sisterly hideaway was named.

“There it is, Johnny, home sweet home!” exclaimed Mirren after six hours of drone-filled boredom. John had been to the tiny toilet twice but that was more from utter absence of anything else whatever to do than need, but now he felt the need.

“Strap in, folks,” sang Sue from just in front of them. The plane descended rapidly and swung in a wide bank over the loveliest beach and curling wavelets that John had ever seen. The actual landing was so soft he did not realise that they were really down until Sue revved the engine to turn the plane into the wind. No one was waiting for them.

“Come along, John, the basha is over this way, past the bamboo and cane.” John, carrying three suitcases, did not move as fast as the two girls. He appreciated the sight of their two butts as they wriggled along the narrow path between tall bamboo and other tropical plants.

The “basha” was a wide open, level floored, peaked roofed construction with sketchy shoulder-high walls dividing off several “rooms.” 

Mirren, very excited, John believed, at being home, showed him a room well away from the others. “You sleep here tonight, Johnny. You’ll meet the rest after the Festival. We’ll eat in about an hour. Don’t refuse anything, it’s native food, but it’d be bad, very bad, manners to not eat at least a taste of everything. okay?”

John was inured to “foreign” food and made no objection. He found that despite the shoulder=high divisions, he was well covered as he took a much desired shower from an overhead tank which deluged him with cool water when he pulled too hard on a cord attached to the valve which controlled the flow. Wet but content and becoming randier by the minute, John dressed himself in singlet, jockeys and pale blue shorts. He had a little trouble adjusting his half erect penis, but he thought of money and his incipient boner partially subsided.

Dinner was, as far as John could identify anything on his plate, there were a meat resembling pork, some sliced dark meat that tasted slightly salty but was extremely good, a vegetable like a leek but without the onion taste and with a green portion that was excellent with the dark meat slices. To his astonishment there was a light wine . . . a beverage that he had thought did not keep well in the tropics . . . .

“What is this wine, Mirren?” he asked, his curiosity aroused.

“It’s a fruit wine, Johnny, Astar makes it fresh every three days.”

“Astar?”

“Another sister, Johnny. Do you like your dinner?” John was quite full and a pleasantly lethargic feeling was creeping over him.

“Yesh, ver’ mush, Mir . . . ren.” His head lolled and his eyes closed.  Sue and Mirren grinned at each other. 
@

John Royall awoke with no particular idea where he was . . . he had done that quite a few times  . . . but never before from overindulgence . . . and kept his eyes closed until he could sort out the situation. All he smelled was what he identified as frangi-pangi and some other tropical flower scent, although the frangi-pangi was dominant.

He decided that nothing was about to attack him, so he opened his eyes and sat up, swinging his legs sideways over the bedside, to find himself confronted by a nude Mirren and a nude Sue. Both were stunning, although John preferred girls with their pubes shaved and kept bare. Both had large, firm breasts, as he had suspected, no bras needed to keep them jutting roundly from the girls’ chests. 

His slow, incomplete erection testified to the fact that he appreciated being awakened to see such  loveliness. The flaccidity and shortness of his member did not appear to bother him, the self-proclaimed, pluperfect stud, at all.

“Janny, you have arrived at the place where you wanted to make love with us. First, you must move yourself over to the other area, where you and the other three aspirants will fish and be prepared for the Festival.”

John slowly rose from the bed, his mind wondering what was happening in a dull, uncaring way, while his body seemed to obey unspoken orders. He had no idea that he was nude, but walked slowly and very sleepily over to the distant basha.	

There he found three other people, just naked men, he supposed, not exciting or titillating as far as he was concerned. They did not make any particular impression on his mind, which soon forgot that he had ever been anywhere but “here.” The basha was home, the food was decent as far as he was concerned and the others were, if not scintillating in their conversation, neither was Jo...  Hm-m. My name isn’t that, is it? It’s. . . Jan . . . that’s it. 

Jan and the others; Cleo, Reb and Maury occupied their days by fishing and scratching their shrinking genitals. Jan noticed one day after what he did not really know was four weeks that he had a very shot, sensitive something hanging down a very short way from his crotch, maybe an inch, inch and a half in front of his anus. It felt odd but as he stroked it out of curiosity day after day it began to make him feel sexy and very much inclined to hug Cleo, just at Maury and Reb were hugging and kissing each other’s breasts.

Cleo made the first move, rubbing against Jan and embracing her with an arm over her shoulders.

“Like that, Jan-nie?”

“Yeah, do it some more.” Jan felt his nipple harden and she liked the sensation.

”Kiss me, huh?”

Jan kissed Cleo tentatively at first, then more enthusiastically.

“Cli-e-o. Touch me, touch me, it feels so good. 

“Ow! No, don’t touch, it’s too sensitive!”

Jan looked down at Cleo’s crotch, then at his own and saw that each had a vee of hair on the lowest part of their bellies as well as between their legs, jut as Mirren and Sue. 

“What . . . what has happened to us, Cleo?”

Before an answer was forthcoming, a call from the far side of the open space came to their ears. 

“Hey, you four. Come on over and play volleyball!”

For the first time on the four weeks she’d been on the island, Jan realised that there were more than four of them there.	

The four girls ran across the open space, their breasts jouncing. Maury ran with her hands on her breasts to keep them still, but as they arrived at the volleyball court, Mirren, Sue, Astar and Kellie handed them bandeaux and helped them tie them around their breasts as makeshift sports bras.

The four playes introduced themselves, for not all of the new people had been recruited by the same duo.

Later, after the game when they were all sweaty, Mirren said, “C’mon, babes, let’s take a swim in the ocean!” and they raced for the cool looking water. There was a shower basha with large drums of water overhead, room for two at a time only and the water was cold but refreshing. Jan was last into the shower

Mirren and Jan showered together, and Mirren said, coyly,

“Still interested, Jan?”

To her surprise, Jan was very interested, but . . . puzzled.

“Uh, yes, Mirren, maybe more than I was . . . I don’t remember when it was . . . when I met you, I guess.“

”So . . . let’s go to my basha and lie down, then.”

“Uh, Mirren, you’re a very pretty girl, and I would like to make love to you very much, but . . . I don’t know how?” This from a former “Mister Stud?”

“Ah, no, you wouldn’t. There’s a first time for everything and I get a virgin, don’t I?”

“Mirren . . . will it . . . hurt?”

“No, silly sweets. Come on, lie down and we’ll talk it through, okay?”

Jan and Mirren, having discarded the bandeaux before going swimming, were of course nude. Mirren puled Jan to her and they kissed, more and more enthusiastically as Jan relaxed and let Mirren play with her. Mirren kissed and fondled her breasts, kissed her neck and made a hickey to Jan’s joy, while Jan fumbled a little but managed to stroke Mirren‘s breasts, back and butt.

“Now, Jan-nie. You know how tender you are between your legs?”

“Ye-es, sweet Mirren, very.”

“We-ell, it’s okay if we lick each other there, you’ll see.”

Jan was not going to be second fiddle any longer, so she moved herself down between Mirren’s legs, pushed her way quickly but reasonably gently between her thighs and found that Mirren was sporting a three inch protuberance between her legs, The soft hair did not interfere with Jan’s suddenly eager lips and tongue, which engulfed the little, rigid rod of skin and expanded sacs. It had a cap on the end, just like a tiny penis, a cap which Jan busily sucked until Mirren, whose voice seemed to come from Jan’s own crotch, said,

“Easy does it, gal, it’s tender, remember?”

Jan understood what Mirren meant a moment later as Mirren’s tongue and lips went to work on her “clipen,” as she learned to call the combination penis and clitoris. Not only was it tender, it was very, very ticklish and Jan soon discovered that she was spurting copiously into an eager mouth.

“God, Jan, you taste good.”

Jan was too busy just then to reply, but in a  moment, swallowing, she managed,

“Mirren, you’re as tasty as can be, sweets!”

* * *  

Some time after their first lovemaking, Jan and Mirren were talking on the dining basha porch, where the girls usually had drinks or snacks.. Jan was still in a questioning mood.
\
“Mirren, love, how did a bunch of guys ever turn into this wonderful combination of man and woman? And where does the money come from to support this place?”
“Jan, I’ve never questioned ‘how,’ I just know that I was on a cruise and the . . . I can’t remember, ut someone . . . I think, brought me here and left me with Sue and some natives. I . . . that’s odd, I absolutely cannot remember what the hell happened, but I don’t really care, do you?”

Jan considered for a minute of two, the frown on her brow slowly dissipating as her thought clarified.

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t either. Gimme a kiss.” They made long, slow love right there on the porch, but the other six were busy, too, so . . .