

The following work of fiction contains sexual activities between
consenting adults. If you are too young, too uptight, or your
local government is too oppressive, you should stop reading now.



This story is in the public domain. While you are legally free
to do anything you like with it, out of courtesy to the author,
I humbly request that you leave my name and contact information
with this story.


Pearl Beds
By Poison Ivan



By Poison Ivan

_Warning! The following work of fiction contains 
sexual activities between consenting adults. You must be at least 18 
years old to read it._

I have two secrets, and it is killing me.  If I don't tell somebody
soon, I am going to explode.

The first secret is I have fallen in love with Daphne Xu!  I can
not believe I have fallen for her, here on this island, of all places.
It started out all in fun.  Just a bunch of us writers running around
boinking each other, having a fine old time, nothing meaningful,
nothing but good old fashioned stupid fun.

But somewhere along the line, I got derailed.

The other day, when I saw Daphne hand-in-hand with another man, my
fists balled up with fury.  It was not so much that they were going
off to fuck, but that they were _holding hands!_  It was such an
inappropriately intimate gesture!  How dare they!

For an hour, I hunched behind a driftwood log, despondent.  But I
am not the type to sit and sulk.  I began to form a plan in my head, a
plan to win her.  Which brings me to my second secret.

I have a gift.  I have a gift I plan to give to the one I love.  I
hope to use this gift to make her mine.

What is the gift?  It is pearls.  I have a little leather sack full
of pearls.

It is funny.  Thinking back.  When I first found the oysters, I was
just out taking a breather, floating in the sheltered bay on a
makeshift raft.  The raft bobbed in the gentle ocean swells.  I was
feeling contemplative, and I think I felt the very first inkling of my
feelings for her.  Daphne and I had just had a vigorous fuck back in
the forest, a fuck that left us both panting and drenched with sweat.
Afterwards, we lay very close, looking into each other's eyes, and we
kissed each other's fingers.

I lay on the raft, imagining her fingers, long and slender.  Three
pads on each finger: bottom, middle and tip.  Her bottom pad was the
most sensitive.  I lay on the raft, and images of her hands filled my
head.  The first smoky wisps of obsession began to form.

I stared down through the clear water, thinking about Daphne.  And
then I noticed the dark shapes on the bottom of the bay.  Strange
looking black lumps embedded in the silt.

The bay is not deep, and I was curious, so I slipped down into the
warm water.  With strong strokes, I swam down to pick one of the dark
things up.  I brought it back to the surface and took a look.

It was an oyster!

I pried it open and found the first pearl inside.  It was silvery
and nestled in the gooey, slimy oyster flesh.  The pearl was 
egg-shaped and beautiful.  Truly beautiful.  I held it in the sun and saw
the blue and green and violet shimmers.

I set the pearl aside and dove back down, picking up two more
oysters.  The first contained a delicate, rosy-hued sphere.

The second contained a miracle.

The pearl inside was enormous, as big as a cherry tomato.  I rolled
the giant, silvery, teardrop pearl in my palm.  The shimmering
translucence was breathtaking.  And it was so _heavy_.  I couldn't
believe how heavy it was.  It was awesome.  It was probably worth a
fortune.

But here on a stupid island, what would I do with it?

And at that very instant, it hit me.

I was in love!

Yes, I was in love!  Daphne!  She of the gentle hands and soft
belly.  And the lovely warm recess between her smooth legs.

But at the time, so soon after my discovery, it was still an 
ill-formed love.  I did not yet have a plan.  I would simply drift
aimlessly back out into the bay every day, and harvest more oysters.
I had a leather bag with a drawstring where I hoarded my treasure.

People began to notice my trips out into the bay.  "Ivan, what are
you doing out there?" The Bear asked once.

"Nothing!" I said.  "I am doing nothing!"  And I hid the bag behind
my back.

I was afraid of being discovered.  So as to arouse no further
suspicion, I began to return with shucked oysters.  They were an
instant hit with the revelers.  "Way to go, Ivan.  Hawr, hawr!" and a
friendly slap on the back.

I built up quite a collection.  Most of the pearls are small, but
larger ones were not uncommon.  I found a second huge one, this one
wine red and nearly perfectly round.  At night I would sneak the two
beauties out and stare at them in the light of a dying bonfire.

My stash is now quite large, and it is getting hard to keep it
secret.  I keep the pearl bag in my knapsack, but the damn things
rattle when I walk!  People are beginning to stare.  It is finally
time to make my feelings known.

Earlier today, I caught up with Daphne on the trail into the
jungle.  She wore a towel wrapped around her curving hips, and nothing
else.  My eyes smarted with an expectant desire.  "Daphne!" I called.
She turned, and she faced me with her beautiful up-turned breasts.
"Will you come with me?" I asked.  "Tonight?"

She cocked her head to the side and smiled.  "What do you have
planned, Ivan?"  She batted her dark lashes.

I was disappointed.  She did not have a clue.  Was I so opaque?

But I'm a trooper.  We made arrangements to meet later that night.
I went back to the beach and prepared my knapsack with a few things
for the evening.  I sat down on a bleached-out log, alone, and waited.

And here I sit, still waiting.  The sun is setting, orange light
streaking across the waves.  The sky has deepened to an indigo blue.
The first sparkles of stars speckle the sky.

Writers begin to congregate on the beach. Pulp Fan, Tom, DG, Mat,
Bronwen, Kitt, Malinov, Janey ... the early arrivals.  The crowd
quickly swells.  A big fire is started. Woodsmoke is there, and Kim,
Bear, Taria, Adrian.  I think I see Kristen, but perhaps not, it's
hard to see clearly.  Bodies begin to sway in the firelight.  Dark
silhouettes dance and writhe.

Daphne arrives late, with the party in full swing.  I stand up to
greet her.  She looks longingly into the throng.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

She gives me the once-over.  "Aren't you cold?" she says.

"No.  What about you?"

"Maybe a little."

I drape my blanket over her naked shoulders and we walk side by
side down the beach, away from the noisy crowd.  When we are out of
sight, we stop, I take the blanket and spread it on the warm sand, and
she sits.  I gather up some dry palm leaves and driftwood, and I start
a small fire.

The night is warm, still, and moonless.  We lie together and gaze
up at the star-swept sky.  My heart pounds as I feel in my knapsack
for my little leather bag.

I turn up on my side and take in her naked form.  The soft rise of
her breast, the dark bushy pubes.  Her eyes have a far-away look, as
if she was pondering some big, deep question.

I gather up a few tiny pearls, rattle them in my hand, like lucky
dice.  She looks down at my hand. I squirt the pearls out from between
my fingers, and I fill her bellybutton with them, a little pyramid of
smooth, glowing round spheres.  They catch the flickering orange
firelight.

She gets up on her elbows and gazes at the jewels on her belly.
"Ivan," she whispers.

I find the big silver tear-shaped pearl.  I lift it to my mouth and
breathe on it, warming it.  I look into Daphne's liquid eyes, the
flicker of firelight reflecting in them.  I hold the pearl up to where
she can see it.  She holds her breath, staring at the incredible
pearl.  I lower the pearl and press the perfectly smooth surface
against her warm skin.  Daphne exhales loudly.

I roll the pearl around, trying to use my fingers to steer it.  But
the oblong lump seems to move with a will of its own.  It leads my
hand across, rolling over the softness of her belly.  It pauses at the
ridge of her ribcage, and with an extra push, up over the first rib it
goes.  I slide it back and forth in the groove between her ribs, down
around her side until I almost lose it, then back up.  Her lungs take
in air.

Back and forth, up and down, the pearl leads my fingers and hand. I
can see the beating of her heart, just under her left breast, a
visible throbbing against her side.  I hold the pearl on the pulse,
and it rises and falls with the pump of her heart.

I follow the pearl up into the crease at the bottom of her breast,
rolling back and forth underneath.  Then to the centerline of her
body, and up between her breasts, rolling up the hard breastbone.  Her
nipples twitch.  Up the pearl climbs, up the rise of her breast.  I
roll the smooth cool sphere towards her dark nipple, around and around
the perimeter of the areola, and the nipple peaks up.  Goosebumps rise
on her soft skin.

I kiss her, and she kisses back hungrily.  I squeeze her nipples
between my fingers and the pearl nestled in my palm.

She inhales sharply as I break the kiss.  The pearl is travelling
again, and this time I follow it's path down her body, kissing her
soft skin, down the front of her neck, my tongue sliding between her
breasts, down her soft belly, detouring around the pile of pearls in
her bellybutton.  Her stomach muscles jerk and a couple pearls tumble
down and roll away.  The big pearl reaches her dark pubes, and my lips
are only a few inches behind.

Her legs part and I move around to crouch between her knees.  I
smell her, I smell her body.

The pearl is warm and heavy and round and smooth.  I sweep it
across her lower belly, moving from hip bone to hip bone, skimming
along the top of her dark pubic patch.

The shell of her pussy opens up, the soft flesh inside revealed.

I move the big pearl against the opening of her vagina.

"Careful," she whispers.

I swirl the pearl around in her slick.  I coat it until it is
slippery in my fingers.  All slippery and smooth.  Gently as possible,
I ease the smooth sphere away, working it with my fingertips, pressing
into the fold inside the outer lip.  I work the slippery pearl up and
down the fold.

I roll it, shiny wet, up and down, right next to her clitoris.  The
hood pulls back, and her bulb peeks out.

Two pretty pearls, side by side.

I gather up saliva in my mouth.  I purse my lips and press them
over her clitoris.  I slurp it.

She arches and gasps for air.

I move my tongue slowly over her clitoris, lapping with a slow
rhythm.  And I press the big pearl down, down between her lips, roll
it again in her slippery stuff.  "Oh God," she moans, and her thighs
strain apart.

I press firmly, and her pussy yields.  The pearl eases in.  Her
breath comes in shudders.  I suck her clitoris, and she grabs my ears.
I press inward with my thumb, firmly and relentlessly, until it is
completely inside.

I take the second big pearl, and place it behind its brother.  She
pulls my head hard, and I slurp and suck and kiss and lick, and the
second pearl enters her vagina.

She grunts, three times, her belly twitching.  She exhales sharply.
And a long, easy sigh.

I look up from between her legs.

Her face is sweaty and strained.  She sits up and the little pearls
in her navel stream down her belly.  She scoots around a little,
stretching her legs.  She holds her hand between her legs.  "Jesus,
Ivan," she says.

She rolls up on the balls of her feet.  Squatting down, she holds
her hands between her legs and grimaces.  The two big pearls pop out
into her hand, one after the other, the second one clicking against
the first.

She breathes easily and lies back down.  I gather up all the stray
pearls.  I lie down next to her.  She holds the two big pearls in her
palm.

"I can't accept these," she says.

And I know it.  What on Earth was I thinking?

She stands up, and I stand up after her.  She places the two pearls
in my hand and pats my behind.  "Thank you," she says.

I stand and roll the two pearls together in my hand.  There is only
one thing to do.

I hand her back the red one, and she opens her mouth to protest,
but I shush her.  Her eyes squint.  I open the leather sack, turn it
over, and empty the gleaming pearls out into the sand at the water's
edge.

"Don't you hate symbolic gestures?" I say.

She laughs.  "Definitely.  They are the worst."  We use our bare
feet to squish the pearls into the wet sand.  The incoming tide will
soon cover the burial ground.

Which leave us with only the two big beauties.

I roll it around in my hand one last time.  It really is
remarkable.

I wind up and throw the pearl out into the ocean.  It plops into
the water, and it's gone.

Daphne watches for a moment, then laughs.  She takes the red one,
leans back, and heaves it out.  It disappears into the water without a
sound.

We stand for a moment, side by side, looking out into the dark
ocean.  I take her hand, and our fingers twine together.

We turn and walk back towards the orgy.  "So, Daphne," I say, just
making conversation.  "Do you know anything about quadratic residues?"




              

Comments? Good or bad, I'd love to hear them. Email me at
poisoniv1@hotmail.com. Or you can find mor estories like this on
my website, http://bounce.to/poisoniv1.

