Tomboy Island

Alex awoke.

There were many reasons why he did so.

Loud moans.

Two bodies radiating heat near his.

They had not been this close before.

It was hot.

He opened his eyes.

Charlotte was where he had last seen her, using his shoulder as her cushion.

Tess was not where he had last seen her, the polite distance she had kept replaced by a grinding closeness.

It was hot, hotter than it had been during the day.

Alex slowly realized he needed to stroke his cock. However, his hands had found something else to do. The digits of his large hands were pressing into the pillowy meat of the duo’s asses. Tess’ fat ass was pure sin. Charlotte’s round butt was firm, balanced, and nice to knead in its modest way.

Alex inhaled the mist.

It filled his lungs.

It was hot, burning in a way that reflected in the half-lidded eyes of the women.

They wanted to masturbate, it was clear in every loud moan. Their hands instead glided over his toned form, drawing the contours of his muscles. They tasted his skin like it was ambrosia. Their wet cunts rubbed against his legs, leaving sticky trails. They shuddered. Had they cum already?

Alex drew in a deep breath and just… let the man take over.

Rising up, he rolled over. He was on top of Tess. She smelled… pure. Untouched, virtuous, yet eager to surrender, all of them imbued in the scent that reached him through the fog. He bowed down and gave her pointy, pale nipple a lick. She tasted untasted, virtuous, yet eager to surrender.

She was eager to surrender - to him.

The virgin spread her cunt open for the man. On the bed of pink moss, he glided his cock over her pussy lips a few times, making sure they were both lubricated thoroughly. His noble size was swollen to the hardness of rigid steel by the aroma in the air. It suppressed the bothersome concerns for proper courtship and left behind honest lust.

Penetration was slow, wonderfully slow. The dark-haired submissive went from loud moans to a scream of 29 years of justified wait. Sensitive folds were stretched, made to conform to the man’s member. She was trembling and twitching, a sensation so utterly unlike her own fingers building up. He could taste it, the realization of a fragment of her awake mind that she could never go back.

The base of his manhood met her smooth, swollen mons - and she had the climax of her life. Her impossibly red lips were stretched wide open in a scream befitting of a seasoned whore, not of a deflowered virgin. Her hole clung onto him with veneration. It knew that she would taste greater pleasures yet, the wisdom encoded in her genes overpowering that of her mind many times over.

Instinct drove the man. Instinct made him take her waist, the only part of her torso that wasn’t thick or wide, and hold it tight. Thrust by thrust, he accelerated, fucking her clamping cunt. Soon the impact of each thrust made her scream turn into a choppy, erotic sound, underlined by the smacking of hips against rippling thighs.

He was pounding her into the moss. She looked good surrounded by pink, this pale, dark-haired, grey-eyed submissive. Writhing underneath him, she managed to remember a single word, sitting at the base of her fantasies. “Master! Master!”

“Master,” the other woman mewled in desperate mimicry.

He saw it fit to glance at her. Chasing her own pleasure, she knelt next to them, disciplined enough to watch and yet not disciplined enough to keep her fingers out of her own cunt. She was drooling. Her pink lips looked delicious. Hard, he grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her in.

She tasted of sin. This harlot was not a virgin, far from it. She loved sex. That, in and of itself, was praisable, but her lack of modesty before meeting her chosen man was not. The man kept on kissing her, dominating her tongue with his, and swat her pert ass in admonishment. She may have been used before, but he would remake her before the night was over.

Pulling the brunette slut over the raven-haired slave, the man and Master had them worship one another in his presence. What else were they to do but please each other for his entertainment? What better use for many women than to have them love him in harmony?

While the experienced tongue of the slut circled the clit of the slave, the man kept on pounding. His cock, aching for release, did not wait for permission. Permission was his to claim, just like this cunt was. Another day, another place, another night, he would claim the womb as well. For today, he was only going to mark it.

Cumming in the depths of her tight cunt, the man felt a release that was at once the greatest he had ever felt and yet too little to satisfy. Spurt for spurt, his enormous load pumped into the slave’s depths. Her body knew its purpose and the heat of his seed in her cunt made her overflowing honey explode into a true cascade. The slut lapped it all up, groaning and mewling all the while.

She wanted more.

She did not know her place.

The man grabbed the brunette slut by the throat and pinned her under him in the moss. The bedding was soft, the grip of his hand was not, and she was practically squirting because of that alone. Light green eyes had rolled up, perfectly visible despite the veil of the night and fog. Her entire body was an open book to him, highlighted like marked text.

He bowed down to her ear and growled the only words his instincts cared for, “I own you down to your breath.”

The slut nodded eagerly, showing her redeemable side. He slammed into her a moment later. Tight, that she was, too tight for him to ram his entire length into him in one motion. He forced himself in and she spasmed in delight at the pain. She screamed as soon as he let her take in air.

“Master! Master! Master!” the brunette screamed, her veneration now genuine. Her legs wrapped around his waist. His large body kept her frame pinned down. She was so slender, he could see his cock create a soft bulge where it hammered in and out of her. She curled up her ass to let him pound her even deeper.

The cocksleeve knew the way to making herself pleasing to him.

Besides them, Tess quivered and spasmed, the pleasure of her first time still echoing within her. She watched and rubbed her agape cunt, missing the presence of her Master. She would go missing him for a little bit longer.

The man kept using the cocksleeve as she wished to be used. Her body writhed in the confines he gave her. Never had she been this limited by a man before, never more put into her place, and never had she been made to cum this hard. This was more than a hook-up, this was what men and women were supposed to do - this was mating.

There was just as little need to measure his endurance the second time around. By the time his cock began to spasm, the cocksleeve was already ecstatic in all senses of the word. Eyes rolled up, drooling all over herself, she reacted to his seed spilling inside her with a silent scream and the digging of her heels into his lower back.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to be bred.

“Not yet,” the Master declared.

He pulled out when her legs allowed him to. For all the strength he had, she could still immobilize him if she knew how. For all the strength of the instinct, the vessel containing it was not yet crafted to its demands. The cock, so hard a moment ago, deflated quickly. The man collapsed into the moss between the two spasming women.

And he dreamt.