Shipwrecked on Lust Island

Melissa Wilson was 18 when her father helped get her a full-time job. He was a friend of Brad Masters, owner of an advertising agency. Melissa started as an office assistant but quickly worked her way up until she was made the front-desk receptionist. Her bright green eyes, natural smile and friendly personality were a perfect fit for a job that required her to meet and greet the people who came into the office.

After six months on her new job, Melissa found herself summoned to Masters’ office. At first she was worried she had done something wrong but the boss quickly put her at ease.

“Melissa, you’ve been a great hire and a wonderful asset to the office,” he said. “It’s about time you had a vacation.”

“Well, um, thanks, but I don’t really know if I’ve saved enough to afford a trip,” Melissa said.

“I thought you might say that,” Masters said with a smile. “I’ve talked this over with your folks and they’re fine with it. I have a sailboat in Hawaii. We thought you’d like to join us for a few days sailing around the Pacific. My wife and I and Rachel and her fiancé are going.”

Rachel was one of the company’s account agents and had befriended Melissa from Day One. Melissa had never been to Hawaii and she was pleasantly surprised by her boss’ offer.

“Sure, Mr. Masters,” Melissa said. “Wow, thanks. That sounds like a great time.”

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Two weeks later, Melissa found herself on the Masters’ 60-foot sailboat, “The Ad One.” The group of five had flown on Masters’ G-5 to Honolulu, spent a few days there and then had boarded the yacht. The ship was captained by John with Jason as first mate. John was a former Naval officer in his late 30s while Jason was a Samoan native in his mid 20s with the physique of a body builder.

Masters was in his mid 40s and his wife Lorraine was a “trophy wife” – mid 20s with reddish brown hair, model good looks and a body that could rate consideration for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. In the first days at sea, Melissa noticed that John and Jason couldn’t keep their eyes off Lorraine when she was sun bathing in her immodest bikinis.

Rachel, Melissa’s friend, had thick blonde hair she wore in a short and sassy bob cut. She was 5-foot-6 with an athletic build (she had played volleyball in college). Her fiance’ Dave was in his mid 20s with dark hair, a goatee and several tattoos.

The 19-year-old Melissa was the youngest person on board but despite the age difference everyone had helped make her feel at ease. She didn’t feel like a child nor did she look like one. She was 5-foot-8 and 125 pounds with a body that could best be described as “lithe.” She wasn’t aware, but when she sunbathed in her bikini (which covered considerably more skin than Lorraine’s) the captain and first mate watched her as closely as they did the boss’ wife.

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The third day at sea, as they were about to turn back to Hawaii, storm clouds gathered. In just minutes, the waves grew to 15 feet, the sky turned black and lightning flashed across the sky. The captain ordered the passengers below to the dining area and ordered everyone to strap in to the swiveling captain’s chairs that surrounded the table. Melissa’s heart was racing as she saw the concern in her boss’ eyes.

Masters told everyone, “Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse; this is a stable ship and the captain knows what he’s doing.” Melissa, though, detected a hint of doubt in his voice.

For the next 30 minutes, the boat was tossed and the cabin became a seat on a world-class rollercoaster. Both Rachel and Lorraine succumbed to seasickness and vomited on the floor.

Suddenly there was a crash/boom flash of light and Melissa could feel the hair on her arms and the back of her neck tingle. The lights flickered and went out. Moments later, the first mate came into the cabin with a flashlight.

“Mr. Masters, sir, we had a lightning strike just off the bow; all the electronics are fried. The helm’s not responding and we can’t restart the engine.”

And with that, he returned topside.

The good news was that the storm had calmed and along with it the waves. Now, the ship was merely rolling instead of pitching from stem to stern. The captain next appeared in the cabin, also armed with a flashlight.

“Sir, we’re adrift. It’s too dangerous to rig the sails and the engine won’t restart,” captain John reported. “Before we lost power, the radar showed a good-sized island off to port; that’s the direction the wind and waves are pushing us. Hopefully we can hold up there.”

Melissa and her four companions sat in the darkness, wondering what would happen next. They soon got their answer.

As “The Ad One” lurched through the water, pushed by the wind and the waves, it neared the island the captain had mentioned. Unfortunately for the ship and its human cargo, the island was protected by a coral reef about half a mile off shore.

Suddenly, the bow of the boat met the reef. It was like a car wreck at 40 mph. If not for being strapped in, those in the cabin would have gone flying.

Melissa and the other two women screamed and the men grunted at the force of impact. The next sounds they heard came from the front of the boat; impaled on the sharp coral reef and driven by the wind and the waves, The Ad One was ripping itself apart. Ocean water started rushing into the cabin.

The captain appeared at the head of the stairway. “Everybody on deck, get your life jackets on,” he yelled over the noise made by the ship’s demise. “We’re breaking up. We need to get to the island,”

Melissa’s heart was pounding and she felt as though she was hyper ventilating. She felt Masters helping her put on her life jacket and then she was climbing the stairway. The first mate was at the top of the stairs. He flipped on a switch on her lifejacket that activated a battery powered strobe light. He handed her a rope as he lined up her four companions. “OK, everybody in the water; hold the rope and let the current carry you to the beach. We’ll be right behind you.”

The deck of the ship was tilted forward as the ocean slowly claimed its victim. Water had nearly reached mid ship. Melissa could feel the warm Pacific on her feet. Masters led the way, stepping into the water with his four companions following. About 10 minutes later, they could feel the submerged sand of the island’s beach beneath their feet and they stumbled onto the safety and stability of land.

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A week later, the castaways were making the best of it. The captain and first mate had managed to grab some supplies but the island also had plenty of fruit and fresh water. The men constructed lean to shelters with palm fronds. A fish hook and line in a survival kit allowed them to catch fish. Survival wasn’t the issue. Rescue was another story. The lightning strike had prevented sending an SOS. They had to hope that search parties would find their way to their island.

They had escaped with just the clothes on their backs. The captain and first mate were wearing t-shirts and cargo shorts. Brad and Dave were wearing baggy swim suits and wife-beater t-shirts. Melissa had been wearing a blue jean skirt that came about to mid-thigh with a blouse. Lorraine had been wearing one of her revealing bikinis with a gauzy cover up. Rachel was wearing shorts and a halter. From their first day, the men had abandoned their shirts and had offered them to the women as additional clothing.

Melissa quickly realized that her bra was chafing her in the heat of the jungle sun. The second day on the island, she slipped away from the others, removed it and hid it under the life jacket she was using as pillow. She didn’t think the others would notice but all four men could tell that her full breasts were free inside her blouse.

To gather fruit, water and firewood, the captain emphasized that no one would forage on their own. On their eighth day of being shipwrecked, the captain and Melissa were looking for edible fruit. After about 30 minutes of searching, Melissa realized she had become separated from the captain. She stopped and turned around and could see the back of his head about 20 yards away. He had stopped and seemed to be hiding behind a large bush.

Melissa backtracked and came to the captain’s side. She was about to ask him what was going on when he turned and put a finger to his lips. His turn also exposed the fact that his other hand was stroking his hard cock.

Melissa’s hand went to her mouth to stifle a gasp as her eyes took in his 7-inch rod and its helmet-like cap. Then she heard muffled voices and she peeked through the bush.

She gasped again. There in a small clearing of grass was Dave and Rachel – naked. Dave was pounding away in the missionary position with Rachel’s feet hooked around his back. Melissa could hear Rachel but her voice sounded different. It was strained with lust.

“NNNGAAAHHHH, baby, gawd, I’ve needed this,” she said. “FUCK yessssss. Gawd, I’ve missed having that cock of yours inside my pussy. This is soooooo FUCKING HOT doing it out here … like wild animals. Pound my pussy with that hard dick. MMMMMMM.”

Melissa was a bit shocked to hear Rachel, who had always acted like such a “good girl,” use such language. Melissa had never heard another woman talk like that.

“Yeahhhhh, oooooh,” the captain whispered as he watched the sexy scene. He spit on his hand and returned it to his cock. Melissa glanced down at the rod of flesh. She was embarrassed to be close to someone pleasuring himself and she started to step away. The captain’s free hand grabbed her hair.

“Don’t move, girl,” he growled. “And keep quiet. We don’t want to disturb your friends.”

When she looked back she saw that the two lovers had changed positions. Dave was on his back and Rachel was riding his cock, facing his feet. Her breasts were bouncing, her nipples rock hard. With her legs spread to straddle her lover, her glistening pink gash was exposed to the two people hiding in the bushes.

Melissa heard the captain groan. He had pulled Melissa to his side and had his arm around her shoulders. She could hear two squishy sounds – one, more faint, coming from the clearing as Dave pounded his cock into Rachel and the other louder as the captain stroked his throbbing erection.

Dave’s strained voice soon came from the clearing. “YEAAAAH, yeaaaahhhh, ride that hard dick,” he growled. “AAAAHHHH, your pussy is squeezing meeeeee. AGGhhhhh …. I’m gonna shoot.”

Rachel slammed down against Dave’s groin, driving his cock as deep as it would go. As his jizz spurted out of his cock, Rachel ground against his hips. His cock cream was flowing as she rocked back on her heels and lifted her pussy off his rod. Her hands stroked the slippery stalk as the last spurts of fuck juice splattered against her stomach and breasts.

Melissa realized she was staring, in a trance. She was having trouble breathing and there was a strange tingling traveling from her breasts, around her torso and between her legs. She had never seen anything like what she had just witnessed.

The conclusion to the live porn show gave the captain the final stimulus he needed. Melissa, pinned against his side, could feel his body go rigid. She looked down and saw his cock twitching in his hand, the white seed spewing out. His jizz spattered against the leaves of the bushes in front of them.

The captain grabbed Melissa’s hand and they backed away from their hiding place. “C’mere,” he whispered, firmly gripping her hand. “And keep quiet.”

They walked briskly for a few hundred yards; Melissa struggling to keep pace with the captain’s long strides. When they reached a large tree, the captain stopped and turned to face Melissa. Her eyes widened when she saw that his cock was still exposed and still erect.

He placed his hand under Melissa’s chin and tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “Jackin’ off was good but I still got a load of jizz in my balls. I need a woman’s mouth on my dick.”

For a moment, Melissa’s brain short circuited. She struggled to comprehend the words she had heard. She was unable to speak. She’d never put her mouth on a man’s cock. Despite the uncertain stirrings of sexual desire she had experienced watching Rachel and Dave, taking a man’s … thing … in her mouth qualified as a depraved act.

“Whhhaaaat? I can’t do that. I’ve NEVER done that. Please, let me go. Please.”

Part of Melissa thought it was a dream, a nightmare, something that would be over when she woke up. She closed her eyes tight … the storm, the ship wreck, the island, the captain demanding she suck his … thing … she was trying to make it all just a dream.

But it was real. The captain placed his strong hands on Melissa’s shoulders as he would place them on a ship’s wheel. He squeezed to let her know his strength and started pushing her down.

“Get on your knees,” he said. “And … suck … my … COCK!”

Melissa’s knees buckled and she found herself kneeling in front of captain John’s prick. It was about seven inches in length capped by a round knob that was purplish/reddish in color. The glans was glistening and swollen, giving a distinct mushroom shape to the end of his rod. The shaft was twitching in anticipation of what was to happen; a white pearl of cum from the recent ejaculation was clinging just below the piss hole.

The captain’s left hand gathered a handful of Melissa’s curly brown hair at the back of her head. His other hand fisted his rod at its base. His left hand slowly moved Melissa’s face toward its destination.

Melissa realized that she was breathing fast, her braless breasts were rising and falling, her nipples were erect and scraping against the material of her blouse. The unfamiliar tingling between her legs was getting stronger.