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From: Kelvar Varkel <var_kel@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Jake and the Castaway Daughters (Mf M+f MF mg hist oral rape) {Varkel} [6/12]
Date: Mon, 17 Apr 2000 23:10:10 -0400
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Chapter 6: Marie's Success
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<1st attachment, "3jnar06.txt" begin>
Jake and the Castaway Daughters
a Novelette by Varkel
Spring, 2000
CHAPTER 6: Marie's Success
Jake had located a passage around and behind the jagged rocks that
formed the south wall of the cove, leading without difficulty down
to the southern beach. He had walked that beach, very like the
eastern one except for easier surf, as far as the narrowest part
of the channel separating theirs from the adjacent island, about
300 yards wide at low tide. He had pitched a coconut hull into
the choppy water, hoping to determine the presence of any current
that would make swimming it hazardous, but with uncertain results.
Thereafter he made it his practice to patrol this beach, too,
every two or three days.
Returning one afternoon from such a patrol he came upon Marie,
sitting naked in the shade of a palm bole. "What are you doing
here?" he demanded. "What if you run across another snake?"
"I'll scream for you."
"Did Miss Belle send you?"
"No, Jake. No one sent me." She stood up beside him, yawned and
stretched with lifted breasts. "I almost fell asleep waiting for
you."
His eyes were on her tiny pink nipples. She smiled and pinched
one between finger and thumb. "It's about the same size as
yours," she observed.
"As <mine>?" He gaped at her.
"I mean the nipple," she retorted impatiently. "Why do men have
them at all? They don't suckle babies, do they?"
"No. There's an expression: 'Useless as tits on a boar.' In
case you don't know, a boar is a male pig. It applies to men,
too."
"Then why do they have them?"
He grinned. "God's mistake. He didn't notice what was hanging
below. You want to talk about God? They say He made women
second. I claim that tits on a man proves He made women first."
But theology did not presently interest her. She smiled. "<I>
would notice what was hanging below! Why do you wear your
britches when you come down here? No one can see you."
He chuckled. "You want me to take them off?"
"Sure. I want to hold it again."
He shook his head and resumed walking toward the rocks, from this
perspective a barrier extending into the sea with no suggestion of
the hospitable cove behind it. The girl hurried to walk beside
him. Even the smoke from the well-maintained camp fire was
invisible from here, dispersed by the breeze, which suggested a
poor likelihood that passing ships might notice it -- a thought
that he kept to himself.
"Don't you have to pee?" she asked.
He grunted. "Talk about mistakes! It was <my> mistake to let you
hold it before."
"Why do you call it a mistake? It was fun, and I know you liked
it. It feels good when it swells up, doesn't it?"
"Oh, yeah? What do you know about that?"
"Wu Fong told me."
"You've mentioned him before. He was your father's houseboy in
China?"
"Yes."
"Played 'Show Me' with him, did you?"
She looked away, after a moment turning back. "I don't
understand, Jake. You're a man. Isn't a man supposed to put his
thing into a girl's ... What do you call it? The Boston lass
calls it a 'crack.' Is that the right name for it?"
Pleased by the change of subject, however slight, Jake asked,
"Well, what do <you> call it?"
She uttered a word of Chinese.
He shook his head. "You don't know the English for it, do you?"
"We weren't allowed to talk about such things in English. Will
you teach me, Jake?"
"The names of the private parts?" He chuckled. "Imagine this:
Schoolmarm Jake. All right. Just don't tell your sister."
He began a lecture on the subject but immediately ran into
difficulties over the male parts. She insisted on being <shown>.
When he had finally agreed to that and proceeded onward with his
britches draped over one arm, she jumped in front of him and took
the named objects in both her hands at once.
"All right," he said, submitting with a gasp when she grew
vigorous, "but it's only fair I should point out <your> parts!"
Nothing loathe, she laid herself down on the sand before him and
spread her legs so far apart that he heard her hips creak. Her
hands stretched the labia. "Go ahead," she invited. "What's the
part in the middle that tingles?"
He knelt before her. "Is it tingling now?"
"Touch it and let me see."
Tentatively he put a fingertip against the well-formed lump. She
quivered. "I guess it is," he noted dryly.
"What's it called?"
"The clit, or clitoris. Some people say the 'love button.'"
"And below that?"
He took a deep breath, staring at her. "Marie, do you have any
idea what you're doing?"
"I know. What do you call my hole?"
"Pussy, cunt, vagina ... Marie, god damn it ..."
She rose to a sitting position. Her hand caught his painfully
hard manhood. "I know that's where this goes, Jake."
He twisted out of her hand and backed away to his feet. They
stared at each other. She sat on the soft sand with her legs wide
apart, her hand still extended toward the fat penis. "It's really
stiff," she breathed.
He took a very deep breath and let it out. He grasped her hand in
his and pulled her easily to her feet. "Marie, we've got to get
going."
"Where?" Suddenly she pulled herself to him, her breasts against
his chest, her belly depressing his penis so that the glans rested
shockingly in the Y of her thighs. She was only half a head the
shorter.
He took her by the shoulders and set her back at arms' length.
"No!" he declared into her face. "I spoiled one of you. Wasn't
that hateful enough?"
He released her and side-stepped, almost running in his haste
toward the rocks. She turned and stood watching him thoughtfully.
When he was 50 yards away, he stopped long enough to step back
into his britches.
"Now I see," she mused incredulously. "It's not the lack of rum.
He feels <guilty>!"
* * *
When Jake completed his morning swim and splashed out of the surf,
he was re-invigorated, ready to work again on moving rock to the
storm wall, whose lack of progress had been nagging at him. It
must definitely be August by now, he thought, possibly even
September. So far they had experienced no storm at all like the
one that killed Fleeting Star, only one or two rain squalls every
few days, but another was certain to come.
But turning toward his britches where he had left them above the
strand, he found Marie sitting beside them. As he approached she
stared without shame at his genitals. Feeling whimsical, he
stopped just before the pubescent temptress and thrust his hips
forward. "There! Is that what you want?"
She looked up to his face at last. Her eyes were thoughtful.
"Yes, but you won't give it to me."
He chuckled. "That depends on what you want it for."
"You <know> that!"
"It has a lot of uses."
She grunted. "I know of two: one for you and one for me."
"Only two? Did you ever see a cow?"
"Of course. We had one in our garden. She had a calf every
fall."
"Sometimes a woman will play calf."
Her eyes, again at his groin, widened slightly. "Look! It's
getting fatter."
"If you wanted to play calf ..."
She grinned crookedly. "You'd let me use it for that, would you?"
"I was about to say, you might even get some milk."
Instead of the incredulity he expected, her reaction was to rise
on her knees and capture the entire swelling head in her mouth.
He twitched back in automatic reflex but the compression of her
lips, with an ominous touch of teeth and the rasp of tongue, held
him before her.
He raised his eyes to scan the tree line guiltily -- and twitched
again. A hundred yards down the beach Jill, golden hair nearly
white from exposure to the sun, was rounding the curve from the
cove.
"Here comes your little sister," he murmured reluctantly.
Marie's answer was to cup a testicle in either hand. She had
managed somehow to work half the swollen shaft past her lips. He
worried that she might choke.
He sighed deeply. "Marie, you have to quit or Jill will see you."
The girl's shoulders lifted in an expressive shrug. He had to
take her head in both hands and force it away, breaking her
suction with a distinct plop. "God!" he exclaimed with a shiver.
She licked her lips. "Jill would like to watch, you know."
"Probably," he agreed dryly, "then she would insist on taking a
turn."
Marie grinned. "Would you mind that?"
He stepped around her and took up his britches. "You've sucked
cock before, haven't you?"
The girl's eyes were unblinking on his. "And I will again."
"Who was it -- your Chinese houseboy?"
She smiled slowly. "Yours is salty, Jake."
"It just came out of a salty sea."
"But I like it. It's so smooth and so big -- a real mouthful!"
"I can't believe this." He shook his head as he fastened his
waistband. "To think of it in your little mouth!"
She opened her mouth wide, a woman's mouth, and wiggled her long
tongue at him. "Is it so little, Jake?"
Jill ran up to them. She laughed breathlessly as she stuck out
her tongue. "Are we making faces for Jake?"
* * *
Marie lay on her pallet of fronds in the night, gauging the
wakefulness of her sisters. A full moon, its pearly light
slanting through the doorway whose thatched screen had been
removed for the sake of the breeze, illuminated much of the crude
hut's interior. Jill lay on her pallet, spread wide as was her
wont, hand at a hairless groin, mouth agape in deep asleep. She
had openly masturbated without embarrassment after the three of
them settled in for the night. She had begun touching herself
like that on the ship, but Belle had never once admonished her.
In a way that was strange. Though Belle was determined that they
should always be "proper," Marie realized she hadn't heard that
word in some time.
Marie had once awakened to find proper Belle pleasing herself
improperly in the cabin on the ship. The eldest, believing her
two companions to be asleep, carried on under agitated bedclothes
with her groans and grunts for some time, longer than Marie had
ever done herself. But both sisters were awake. Jill had looked
at Marie, just inches away, with wide eyes and a knowing grin.
Marie had always made certain that her sisters were indeed asleep
before she touched herself. At such times it helped to think of
Wu Fong on top of her, filling her up and delivering more pleasure
than she could ever obtain by herself. Now she lay upon her
pallet, dreaming of her lost lover and rubbing herself gently, but
withholding her release. Tonight she wanted more. She wanted the
real thing once again. She looked over at Belle who was curled on
her side with a thumb in her mouth snoring slightly, deeply
asleep.
Tonight Marie would proceed without fear of interruption. All she
need do tonight was convince the man, and she thought now, after
the experience on the beach this morning, she knew how to do it.
She got up quietly, careful not to make the dried leaves in her
pallet rustle louder than the breeze in the roof, and tip-toed out
of the hut.
In the full light of the moon she felt empowered, exuberant, free
of all inhibition. The man would take her despite his guilt about
Belle, because he was, after all, just a man who could not prevent
his manhood from swelling to fill a woman. She strolled naked
down the path to the beach.
* * *
Jake awoke unwillingly to a shove against his shoulder. He
blinked open his eyes and was startled to see a naked girl looming
over him. He recognized her. "Marie?"
"Yes," she replied, standing with her legs apart and hands on her
hips, looking down at him. "What happened to your hammock?"
"The vine rotted and dumped me on my ass," he declaimed wryly. He
raised up on an elbow and looked through her legs to the moonlit
beach and the phosphorescent whitecaps beyond. "What's the
matter? Is something wrong?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"You couldn't sleep? In this paradise?"
Instead of answering she knelt beside him, throwing her shadow
across his midsection. Her hand caught his organ gently,
eliciting a gasp of shock.
"It's wet," she announced.
"You shouldn't be here," he protested, pushing away her hand and
covering himself.
"I'm here now, Jake, and it seems that I'll be here for years to
come."
"Good god!"
"Maybe He's good for both of us. I know how a man gets wet in his
bed, Jake. You need <me>, too."
"But you're just a child," he replied with a plea in his voice.
In the moonlight she did not look the child. Her body was rounded
and shapely. Her waist was not narrow as Belle's but the
undercurve of her belly had its own appeal. Each breast was high
but plump, already larger than his clenched fist. The pretty,
oval face, hovering above him against the stars, was perhaps her
youngest feature. Its small nose and pouting lips made her seem
no more than the twelve, almost thirteen years, she had admitted
possessing. But her eyes, glittering in the shadows, were not
those of a child. Denied the shaft, her hand slipped under his to
caress his testicles. Again he had to gasp.
"Wh-what has happened to you, Marie?"
"What do you mean?"
"When I first saw you, you could hardly speak without blushing
beet red. You were too shy to look me in the eyes. Now you grab
me by the balls. I can't believe you're the same girl."
"You thought I was shy?"
"So did everyone else, I wager. Belle has mentioned it."
He heard a smile in her voice. "They mistook shyness for
excitement."
"Excitement? How can you know about that?" His hand slipped up
the kneeling thigh, so smooth and inviting of a lick. She opened
her legs to him. His fingers thrust forward, probing gently,
parting her lower lips, finding no obstruction. With a sigh she
threw one leg over his belly, hitching herself up onto his chest,
directly before his face. She had pubic hair but only the
beginning of a real bush.
Still unable to believe her nonvirgin state, he protested weakly,
"I don't want to hurt you, Marie."
"You won't," she responded shortly, slipping forward onto her
knees astride his face.
She lowered her body to the man's mouth. He could not escape,
could not resist the offering. Slipping his hands under her
thighs, he deployed his thumbs to part the puffy lips that almost
touched his nose. He began to stroke the girl with his tongue as
he had done for many women in many ports. The delicate odor of
her filled his nose. His manhood hardened painfully.
She had longed for this touch since Wu Fong's departure. She
grasped her plump breasts and squeezed them tightly, mouth
silently agape as the magic thrill suffused her body from that
special place. It came on quickly, the awesome pleasure, and she
squealed as her body shuddered involuntarily.
The man's tongue continued so nicely after that first delirium,
but the girl had something else in mind. She scooted down his
body and took hold of the magnificent penis, positioned it and
then squatted onto it. It felt so huge! In an instant young
Marie became an addict, a slave of the man's fat cock. She lost
control and did not try to regain it. He caught her shoulders and
brought her down to him, where she shuddered in his arms and
stuttered in Chinese, gasping again and again the name of Wu Fong.
Jake, who had masturbated just an hour previously, was ready for a
long, serious encounter. He thrust up into her with rapid,
powerful strokes as she quivered atop him, crying out from time to
time, each squeal weaker than the last until her sweaty body
shuddered and fell limp.
Jake was not done. He slowed his plunging to relish his
encasement in the silken tight heat. His hands roamed over the
soft body, gently pinching the pliant flesh. He kissed her slack
lips and wondered if she were still conscious. And then he felt
his own pleasure announce itself with that peculiar tingle of the
glans. He had to get out of her! his rational mind insisted, but
the beast in him let spew forth uncounted seeds of trouble in
exchange for the brief moment of ecstasy.
He hardly noticed her weight atop him as he lay panting for
breath. Her head sagged beside his. He felt a wet tongue on the
skin of his shoulder. She still clutched his softening manhood
in her belly as if she hated to release it. His hands continued
to fondle her, stroking her back and buttocks. He could feel her
sharp nipples on his chest. Curiosity at her continuing collapse
impelled him to ask, "Are you asleep."
"No," she sighed. "Dead, I think." She added something in
Chinese.
"What does that mean?"
"It means ... that you have sent me to the highest heaven." He
heard mild vexation in her voice. "But it doesn't sound half so
sweet in English."
"Who sent you there before?"
"You know."
"Your Chinese houseboy?"
"Not just a houseboy. He told me I was a goddess."
"He was your first, I take it."
"The one whose cock made me bleed, yes, but not my first man."
"No? Honey, don't you know? The ones before you bleed don't
count."
"Oh, that one counted! But you are the best of all, Jake."
"Because I have the thickest cock?"
"That, too."
He chuckled. "You're a sweetheart, my Marie. But what am I going
to do with you?"
"The same, I hope, only more so." Again she added something in
Chinese.
"Which means?"
"That I am your slave."
"My slave, are you? Then you must tell me the truth, right?"
"If you ask for it."
"When were you born, Marie?"
"In 1835, on the seventeenth of September."
"September! Then you might already be ... 13. 13! Good god,
I've done it again!"
"Done what, Jake?"
He sighed deeply. "What the law strictly condemns. But not the
French law, maybe... 13! That's awfully young for what you are.
Many girls are 14 before they start bleeding. How many times have
you had your monthlies?"
"My what? You mean my curse?"
He chuckled. "I guess that's how it seems, eh?"
"The curse of Eve, as Belle says. Four times, once here."
"Four months! It started before you left China, did it? I'm
curious: was that after your, ah, worshipper made you bleed?"
"Yes, awhile."
"Hmm. I wonder if fucking can bring on the courses early. Can it
hasten a female's growth?"
"I don't know. 'Fucking?'"
"What we just did."
"Oh. <Fucking>!"
"Ah, Marie, that's a very bad word. Don't use it around your
sisters."
"If you say so."
After a moment's thought, he prompted, "Tell me about it."
"Tell you what?"
He smiled, conceiving a rare opportunity. "Everything.
Everything you've done about sex."
She responded deprecatingly, "Oh, I can't remember <every> time!"
"I mean in general, what you did, who you did it with. Who was
the first to rub your clit? Was it Belle?"
She raised her head to look at him. "Never Belle. She's not like
that. It was my father."
"Your father?" Jake responded incredulously, having no daughter
and perplexed at the idea of lewdly touching one.
"After Mother died and I was nine he sent the servants away on
bath night and washed me himself. It was so nice, the touch of
his soapy hands, especially between my legs. When I was ten I
felt the tingle for the first time, and he was so happy. He said
he was proud. After that he would often come to my bed and give
me pleasure as he kissed me. I wanted to touch him, but he always
refused. Belle never knew about it, but Jill did. She saw us
once and climbed into the bed just as I cried out, asking if Daddy
had hurt me with his head between my legs. Daddy never touched
Jill or Belle, just me. I was his favorite."
"Do you miss the feel of a tongue?" Jake asked, remembering her
delicate odor, wanting to taste it again, even with his spunk
oozing from her slit.
"No, I want your fat hardness in me once more," she replied in a
husky voice. "You can lick me another time, when I'm more
relaxed."
Jake took her again, on top, careful with his arms to suspend his
weight above her. The thought of his penis replacing, indeed
surpassing, her father's tongue brought him to a surprisingly
quick climax. He backed away, thinking to spare her the weight of
his hips, but she protested, "You didn't last long enough that
time, Jake."
"But you cried out!" he protested.
"Only once," the young girl sniffed. "I need more."
<1st attachment end>
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