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Stanley walked along the beach in the wake of the storm, seeing what the higher waves had washed up on the shore. This small island where he had been marooned for over six months now wasn't that far off from the normal shipping lanes and a storm frequently meant that any number of smaller items could be found upon the shore, borne upon the waves inside a box that had floated hence, that he might make some use of its contents. He had even accumulated a certain amount of gold and silver coin this way, though their use to him here was merely a novelty, though he kept it against the day he would be rescued, unlikely as that now seemed to be. He hadn't seen sight of a sail of any kind for weeks on end, and those he had seen hadn't paid his signal fires the least bit of attention. Now that the rainy season was upon these waters, his chance of rescue was even less likely. Perhaps when the dry season returned, he might hope for rescue once again.
The normally pristine sand was now foul with seaweed and detritus of various kinds, it was amazing, the transformation a single storm could bring. Three days before, this stretch of sand had been an ivory white in tone, the rocky bank at one end jet-black, the waters vainly striking at it petulantly, foaming in its fury as its imperious passage was blocked by the rocks' impudent, ugly face. Now the white was blotted with large clumps of green-black seaweed and less identifiable things, none of it looking like it belonged on this world, let alone having come from the briny waters of the ocean.
One small chest was his find this round, a personal chest of a sailor perhaps, but it contained a valuable item for him; a small knife that he could use for the point of a spear, better than the broken stick he had been using to spear fish with, the rest of its contents were of no value here.
He emptied the chest, keeping the knife but discarding the rest (he could use the chest itself), and continued his search and then a long, pale line of something caught his eye among a blob of seaweed. A man? No, it was too small for that. He got closer and finally realized that it was a boy, no more than seven years old, who lay insensible on the sands and seaweed just beyond the waterline, his cotton clothing sodden and ripped in several places. He had been dressed in a white shirt and pants fit for this warm climate, which may have been clean and white once, but now was grayish and stained. Any shoes he had had on were lost to the waves. The boy's hair was blond in tone and his skin was fair though rather burned by the sun's rays.
Stanley checked the boy over and confirmed the lad wasn't drowned, only exhausted from his long battle keeping his head above water in the tempest, and perhaps had struggled ashore before collapsing during the night to fall sound asleep as the waves continued to rage nearby.
The boy needed help, and Stanley didn't hesitate, he bent over, his large muscled frame now well-browned by the sun from the prior dry season (he wore only a pair of what used to be knickerbockers, but now were only knee-length shorts torn and ragged above his knees). His handsome, sun-ravaged face was furrowed as he bore the boy back to his shack. He wanted to be charitable, but this island was small and the margin between life and starvation was slim. A helpless child was not a burden he could really afford to support for long. But what else was he to do?
He got the boy to his shack and laid the lad down on his sleeping mat, just a worn blanket atop a pile of palm leaves he had to replace every few weeks as they grew brittle and unsuitable. His first plan was to wash the boy's body clean of the salt water from the ocean. He had a small jug of water handy he could use and the spring of water that supported the trees on the island and its small amount of wildlife. He took the clothing off the boy, the shirt and pants and the underpants, and set them aside; they were all thick with salt from the seawater and needed washing. The boy could be naked for a day, and he would need rest in any event. He then took a bit of rag that had been part of what was left of his own shirt and began to wash the boy's body. Sea salt left unwashed can cause rashes on delicate skin such as his. The boy moaned and stirred but did not awake as he washed, and when he was done, he covered the lad with the covering he used himself on cooler nights and gathered up the clothes and took them to the spring.
He weighted down the clothes with rocks and left the water to do its work, refilled his cistern and returned to his shack. As he did, the boy sat up and looked at him, fearful.
"Good morning," he said to the child. He wasn't even sure the boy spoke English.
"Good morning," the boy said in return. "Who are you?"
Stanley smiled, his first smile in weeks. "My name is Stanley Russell and this is my home, such as it is. I found you on the beach and brought you here. Your clothes are being washed free of the salt water not far from here. We two are alone on this island, and I have been here for six months." That should cover most of the boy's questions.
"Oh," the boy digested this. "I'm Toby Cross, I was on a ship that caught fire during the storm, and blew up. I barely escaped by hanging onto a piece of wood. Are we...shipwrecked here?"
"Yes, I am afraid so. Are you thirsty or hungry?"
The boy was weak but recovered rapidly, he had not been injured in the explosion, only exhausted from the sleepless night clinging to the driftwood in the waves. He ate well of the boiled meat of a seagull Stanley had captured and drank the broth. Fish and bird meat was the bulk of Stanley's food source, his island store of coconuts and taro roots and such was limited, the island was small enough that, if not for rocky outcroppings, he could have circled the shores on foot in twenty minutes, and he rationed his harvesting of such things carefully.
He fetched the lad his clothing but it was wet and had to be hung up to drip dry. "You will have dry clothing by morning," he explained. "We should sleep soon, the night is cool and I have little covering to offer."
"We should sleep together," the boy offered willingly. "If we press our bodies together, we will be warmer."
Stanley felt his cock jerk at that. He had been alone on this island for six months and without a woman for over a year. The life of a sailor did not lend itself to frequent dating. "I...think that would be a good idea, at least for tonight," he said carefully. "We can make you a bed of your own in the morning."
Toby nodded as if that were of little importance. "Our ship carried a lot of goods, we should check the shores again to see if more has washed ashore."
Stanley smiled at that. "You're thinking like a castaway. We'll do that."
When the sun went down, he had to depend on moonlight and starlight, which inside his shack was poor. He lived with the sun which at this latitude was at least dependable. As the shadows grew and the light dimmed, he started to take off his trousers, then hesitated. Should he be unclothed with the boy's nude body pressed against his?
Damn it, he and the boy would be together in this small one-room shack for who knows how long! He couldn't stay covered in this same single piece of clothing he had forever, he had to wash it and go naked every so often himself!
With determination, he unbuttoned the top few buttons and let the trousers fall over his slim hips to the floor. He had scavenged his underwear for cloth for other purposes long ago, he was now buck-naked and Toby looked at his manhood openly.
"You have a very nice dong!" Toby exclaimed. "I haven't seen one that big before!"
Stanley was embarrassed and shrugged. "I guess so." His cock was still mostly soft, but hung down like a dark banana and he turned around toward the bed. "Let's lie down and sleep now. We shall want to arise at dawn to make the most of the daylight."
He got into his bed which was roomy enough for him but with the boy in it would be barely enough, so he scooted over to lie nearly against the wall he had built of a framework of bamboo and palm leaves, then coated with mud to make a solid wall when it dried. Toby lay down next to him and sidled up against him and they ended up in a spoon-like position, Toby's back against his chest and coiled into his curved body as they lay side-by-side. Toby was still weak from his ordeal and fell asleep, but Stanley lay sleepless for some time with the warm bundle lying so close to him.
He did sleep, only to have disturbing dreams, with this boy starring in them in various ways, close ways...intimate ways. He dreamed of himself making love to the boy, madly, passionately, ecstatically, he was happy in the dreams, he was content, he was joyous and free and...
He woke up, panting and sweating. He was lying on his back and his cock was hard as a rock. He felt it pulsing, jerking back and forth like a live thing. He felt the covers move, and he turned his head and in the dim light of the moon shining in the shack indirectly saw that Toby was sitting upright, looking at him.
"Are you all right?" Toby asked. "You were moaning."
"Yes, I...I had a nightmare," Stanley lied. "I am sorry I woke you with my moans."
"It was not your moans that woke me," Toby replied. He reached down under the covers and gripped Stanley's hard tool. "I woke up to this."
Stanley gasped and his body rose up unbidden, pushing his middle upwards into the soft, warm hand that had his cock in thrall. "I...I do not wish to force you to do anything!" he gasped out.
"I am not forced to do this," Toby said softly. "I am grateful to you and you are kind and gentle and warm and I wish to be with you. I know I can not do all that you need to do here, but I can do this." Toby's hand gripped Stanley's prong tighter and he began to pump on the shaft up and down firmly.
Stanley moaned, "Mmmmmmmmmmmm!" and his cock gushed a strong stream of precome in gratitude. He had been very worked up from his wet dream, the first he had had in some time, and his sperm backlog was telling on him, he groaned and writhed under the boy's firm handling of his pecker in the dim moonlight under the covers.
Toby grew bolder at Stanley's acceptance of his attentions and he threw the covers away to reveal the man's strong, lithe, muscled form, the moonlight and sweat causing every arc of his musculature to shine out in glowing relief. The dong's precome formed a glittering rivulet where it clung to the side of the shaft to where it impacted Toby's hand gripping the cockskin near the base and Toby's mouth watered at the juicy sight of this liquid affirmation of passion. He licked his young lips and went in for the feast.
His young, pink tongue first lapped at the fluid foam that lay on his hand to scoop up the cooling cock-nectar and he swallowed that and then he ran his tongue up the shaft to scavenge the runner of ambrosia lying there up to the source at the urethra, and Stanley, feeling the soft flesh of the tongue plying on his cockskin, groaned louder. "Huhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Reaching the glans, Toby lapped around the flare of the morel-mushroom-shaped head and more precome gushed out which he quickly retrieved as his bounty for his effort. He swallowed and then, working up his saliva, he rose to just above the head of the nine-inch prong and slid his mouth down the shaft, sluicing his mouth's foamy slobber over it as he went, and the lips made it down about three inches on the first dip downwards, the drool dribbled down the shaft further, Toby had produced so much and laved it on his dong. Toby milked upwards and the flare felt the skin pulled over it and reacted with flames of ecstasy throughout Stanley's body. "Guhhh-uhhhh-uhhhhh-huhhhhhhhhh!" Stanley gasped out. "Ohhhh, ohhhh, that's good, so good, ahhhhhh, ahhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh!"
Toby went back down the shaft and this time the slobber-laden prong went easily down his throat and he was able to gobble down almost six inches of the imperial scepter of Stanley's masculine honor. "Hohhhh, ohhhhhhh, o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!" he stammered out.
Toby settled for this depth and began to move up and down faster, working and milking the hunky stud lying supine before him, the savior of his life, the source of his future, the benefactor of his fortune. He knew well the thin blade of survival they would have to live upon now and determined to be not only useful to this man, but desirable and worthy of protection, and this was how he could do this. That did not diminish the fact that he also found Stanley to be a large, handsome, muscled dream-come-true for this ardent man-lover that he was even at his tender age.
After Toby had worked the dong for a few minutes and had Stanley in full rut, he paused, let go, and said, "Can you fuck me now, please?"
Stanley was surprised at this, more than he should have been, perhaps. "Are you comfortable with that?"
"You will not be my first. If you are not rough with me, I will be fine."
"I would never be rough with anyone in my own bed," Stanley promised and he moved to let Toby lay in the middle of his bedding and then got on top of the grinning, eager boy, steering his enraged manhood toward the waiting, willing tuckerhole. His glans kissed the sphincter and he said, "Are you sure you want this, lad?"
Toby had his legs locked on Stanley's buttocks and his arms around Stanley's neck, and he pulled on Toby's butt with his legs and pushed the man's hips forward so that the glans penetrated his anus and went inside with only slight resistance. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Does this answer your question?"
"Indisputably," Stanley agreed and pushed in deeper. "Mmmmmmmmmm!" he sighed as he dove into the soft, warm interior.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Toby grunted as he was filled with the hard, throbbing pecker. "That feels so good, really good. A lot better than the first mate back on the ship. He was a little too rough for my taste. You're nice."
"I'm glad to hear that." Stanley had paused with about four inches of his prick inside the boy's ass, he pushed again to bury another three inches. "Mmmmmmmmmmmm!" he sighed again. "I've buried most of my pud in you now, lad, how are you feeling?"
"It feels great!" Toby purred in contentment. "I love how firm and warm you feel inside me. You aren't hurting me at all."
"Then I guess I can go ahead and do this," Stanley said and he pulled out his prod and then pushed back in, moving in a continuous but deliberate motion of his hips. "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!"
"Ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhh!" Toby gasped at both the outward and inward movement. "Again, do it again!" he urged when Stanley paused after that one brief action.
Stanley repeated the out-and-in motion, this time faster, the total action taking only a few seconds. "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhh!"
"Uhhhhhhhhh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h! Again, again, do it again!"
Stanley began to move now without pausing, and though he kept his movements slow, he did not stop. Toby moaned and clung to him as if he were that piece of debris that had saved him over the tempestuous storm and borne him upon the waves, and he enjoyed, relished the lingering and joyous feel of having another person in his bed, in his arms, in his embrace, and Toby did not insist upon him moving any faster; the boy seemed to realize the need Stanley had to stretch out this, his first loving He settled for this prolonged, sensuous, stolid pace, and the two slowly together built their foundation for their relationship and their agreement for their companionship and cooperation in the future, that each would give their all and take as they needed from each other without hindrance.
But there is a time at which the higher emotions must give way to the baser passions, for the satyr of lust can overwhelm the nymph of love despite her desire to take things at a slower and more romantic pace. So it was with Stanley, as his cock began to surge with his need and his hormones began to insist upon release, his motions slowly began to speed up and his desire surged more the faster he moved. "Hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh!" he grunted as his hips began to thrust deeper and harder into the soft, yielding buttocks of the boy holding to him still.
"Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah!" Toby responded as he was rocked back and forth by the lusty thrusts, but he didn't complain and held on tighter as his young face began to darken with the building blush of rapture.
"Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh!" Stanley rasped as he stopped with the smooth motions of his hips and began to stab at the soft tuckerhole in which his love pole was buried and pulsed.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!" Toby groaned and writhed under him. "Ohhhh, ohhhhh, Stanley, harder now, faster, harder and faster, harder and faster!"
Stanley shifted his hold to lift the buttocks upwards and he began to give the young boy under him the ride of his life, he flung his hips at the boy and rammed the ass at a speed that would make rabbits turn green with envy. Toby moaned out at the hammering "U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-UH!"
"Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh!" Stanley's own grunts were so fast that they ran together into one long staccato sound. "HUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUH!" his machine-gun groans increased in volume as his joy rose in him and he approached orgasm.
"UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH!" Toby matched his volume with his own higher tones of joy and the pair, man and boy, hit their climaxes together in one symphonic harmony of joy.
'HUHHHHH-HUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Stanley sang out in his rapture as he blasted his come-load into the soft, yielding bowels.
"UHHHHHH-UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Toby rang out in his own dulcet voice as he thrashed as his young ass filled with the hot creamy load which filled him to the brink then overflowed to burst outward in a set of bursts in a flower-like spray in all directions around Stanley's fast-plugging cock, and Stanley continued to perform as a human pile-driver until the last dregs of his orgasm had finished with him and he was drained totally dry of joy and Toby lay under him as an exhausted creature much like the small thing Stanley had lain upon the bed so recently having been borne by the waves into his care.
Stanley lay partially on the boy and partially upon his arms which he kept folded on either side, as he puffed and heaved and breathed desperately, his hot breath blowing into the insensible and gasping mouth of the boy under him. Recovered, he thrust himself to the side nearest the wall and lay on his side, all he could fit there, and panted a while longer, looking at the boy breathing next to him.
Overcome with tenderness for this slight figure, he rose up and deposited a soft kiss upon Toby's lips, and Toby opened his eyes and smiled and his arms came up and he returned the second kiss Stanley gave him with energy of his own. They had bonded in this moment with a bond stronger than any matrimonial ceremony or adoption paper could supply, they would work as one in the days and weeks ahead to survive and thrive in this small island until rescue could arrive.
Stanley had kept a careful calendar before Toby's arrival but was lax about it afterward, he felt no real need to track the days when the weather was only wet and dry and the sun's revolutions in the sky never varied by more than a few degrees of latitude above. He felt at times like his very life had changed and in a way it had, for he was now more than a man, he was half of a couple, his future secure, and he slid along serenely borne upon the waves of time without a care or worry beyond the love he had for the young lad who shared his bed and his love.
THE END
Comments, Complaints or Suggestions?
Send E-mail to Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM.
NOW ON SALE!
USE THE "CLICK TO LOOK INSIDE"
FOR MORE FREE STUFF!
(The Story You Just Read is Available in The "My Imaginary Friend" book)