Primitive

Chapter One-2

We swim for nearly an hour, then take some time to sunbathe. As brazen as usual, Lydia does so naked on a rock, thinking nothing of exposing her buttocks or her front side to whoever might happen by our glade. I think it’s shameful. I’m even reluctant to stretch out on my towel with my swimsuit on. I don’t trust this isle, as romantic as it might appear. Its foreignness scares me. The birds shriek in the night and day. The air moves strangely through these strange trees, and there are places so dark, even in the daytime I can’t see my way. I find myself shuddering, holding my shoulders in as if that would protect me from these hobgoblins and imps that fly about this mysterious place on the backs of cawing monkeys. Just because I don’t want Lydia making fun of me, I lay for a while in the sun. Not long however. Even with sunscreen, I’m afraid that my skin will burn. I do enjoy the warmth and even the hot rays that would burnish my flesh. For a moment, I feel something tingle between my thighs. The uncomfortable sensations make me start, and then jump up only to find myself gazing into the eyes of a man standing some twenty feet away.

“Sir!” I manage to gasp. My startled cry awakens Lydia who’s been asleep. I’d think she’d immediately grab for some clothes, but she doesn’t bother, she’s that shameless. The man smiles looking pleasantly surprised to find us here.

“You are a beautiful sight,” he says. He is a stocky man, about five-feet ten. Older, perhaps forty, but handsome, and quite primitive for a white man. He wears a pair of tan Bermuda shorts, a baggy tan shirt open down the front, a chain of unusual beads and sandals. His graying hair has grown long, dangling alongside his cheeks. He wears a large straw hat so his face remains in the shadows, but that cannot prevent me from seeing the tattoos on his face. Two dark arrows mark his square jaw line. And three bold lines of black, like fingers, are drawn down the sides of his nose. There is an earring in his ear and rings on each finger of one hand but none on the other. A tiny gold dot on the side of his nostril suggests that he’s pierced there too. I find myself going cold just seeing this peculiar man. He’s difficult to look at.

Lydia has an altogether different response to our intruder. Though she’s not bold enough to stand naked in front of him, she does nothing to cover herself even after the first shock is over. Still sitting on her rock, her breasts bared for his eyes she addresses him. “Who might you be?”

“Llewellyn,” he says, “And you?”

“Lydia Sebring, and that is my sister Camille, the bashful one. Our father is the scientist that has just arrived to study the island.”

“Ah, I see now why there’d be two beauties sunbathing in my jungle. I thought my eyes were deceiving me when I stumbled on you.” His voice is deep-throated and resonant, vibrating in the hollowness of the jungle. It gives me shivers when he speaks.

He looks back at me, but I can’t look into his eyes, even though he waits for me to look at his face. In my peripheral vision, I can see his interest, but I don’t want him interested in me. Lydia pulls her dress over her shoulders and saunters toward him, c*****g her head so it tosses her slick hair half over her eyes, looking sexily mussed.

“And what do you do on the island?” she asks him.

“I’ve lived here for twenty years. I paint.”

“Ah, you’re the man whose work hangs in all the galleries. Father said to watch out for you. I don’t think he trusts you?”

“And why would he not trust me?”

“He says your paintings are savage. My father is not a savage man.”

“He should stay here some years and see how he feels then.”

I watch her work on the man, knowing that he’ll be charmed the way every other man is seeing her. Slut. I hear myself saying that much too often, and I realize it’s wrong to judge her. But she is so beyond me.

“But lest he think I’ll do some evil to his daughters,” Llewellyn continues, “I’d better go.”

“Oh, now wouldn’t that be a delight,” Lydia whispers to me as he strolls away.

“What would be a delight?”

“To have ‘evil’ done to me by that man,” she says. Her eyes are evil, I think. That midnight, jet-black, sleek looking gleam makes me shiver as much as Llewellyn does.

“You should stay away from him,” I tell her. Of course, she won’t listen.

***

After three weeks on the island, Lydia is off with Llewellyn several times. She’s furtive about her visits, leaves me at our bathing pool, which I heartily protest, though she goes anyway. Sneaking along the jungle path she finds his hut somewhere in a remote part of the island and plays with him in bed. I don’t want to hear about her s****l escapades, they disgust me. But I can’t stop her talking late at night, when she plops down on my bed, after I’ve already fallen asleep. She wakes me, my eyes opening, startled to see her staring at me with an infernal gleam I cannot trust. She tells me how they made love.

He’s not a child, Camille,” she purrs like a cat when she speaks softly. “But a man. His body is strong, no flab for an old man, but so firm. He’s tan without a line, like me. He tells me he works in the nude, but I haven’t seen that yet.” She heaves this deep, self-satisfied sigh. “He says he wants a female model. I think he’ll use me. Wouldn’t that be heavenly, to be studied all day by a man of art? To be rendered in color lounging among banana leaves and ferns? Makes me wet between my thighs, thinking of it.”

“Lydia!” I protest. “I don’t want to hear about your s*x with the man.”

“That’s only because you’re so envious.”

“I am not. The last thing I want is a loveless affair with a man who is content to use me and then cast me off when he gets tired of me.”

“Oh, you’re incurable. In search of a husband? Here? In this god-forsaken place? It’ll never happen, Camille. All we can hope for while father broods is to find some sexy men to screw – just for the fun of it.”

“Don’t talk dirty!”

“I love talking dirty to you,” she snickers evilly. While I lie in bed, she leans over me, her two hands on either side of my head, her face bending down to mine. Her lips are much too close to mine. “You’re so easy to upset. You get all in a dither looking stuffy. Your rules are going to make you miserable, little sis. But that’s all right with me, because that means I’ll have the crème de la crème for myself. And let’s face it, on this isle, we can’t really be that choosy.”

“The only man I want is a husband,” I tell her.

“How naïve,” she says backing away smirking. The twist to her lips makes me fear her. But I’ve seen it before so I have no reason to be afraid. Yet, in this sultry savage climate, I’m not sure that she won’t become more crazed than she already is.

Rising, she stands beside my bed and looks down on me.

“You know, he has the largest c**k I’ve even seen, certainly that has ever entered me. His balls are heavy, hanging low. But it’s his forceful way with me that intrigues me the most. When he presses into me, he rides hard and I scream with abandon.” The way her body undulates as she speaks I think she’s back in the moment, remembering so vividly as if she’s re-living the whole scene before my eyes. I don’t want to see it, but I have no choice but to wait until Lydia finishes her testimony. If I look away, she’ll just keep talking, so I focus on her, while making sure that her tale won’t affect me. But despite my efforts, I can feel myself reacting to her sensuously moving body.

She runs her hands over her flesh, down the sticky sides of her satin gown. Her thighs quiver and she moans quietly, her eyes drooping lazily until they close. I’m too shocked to speak. She has me hypnotized the way she moves before me. The slip of a nightgown drops to the floor and she’s naked m**********g before my eyes; though I don’t think she even remembers I’m here the way she looks lost in her sensuous reverie. I watch as she fondles her breasts while a hand remains at her crotch opening the thatch of silken hair to expose the purple insides of her p***y. Her middle fingers moves directly to the hole deep in that cleft. One finger driving into the place becomes two, becomes three, until I realize that she’s using her fingers like a c**k to f**k herself.

I want to scream at her to stop, but I keep silent, curiously honoring the act that is both lewd and lovely. I find my own hand straying to that pulsing spot between my thighs. I’m sticky there and the bud between my labia is like a little rock. But just a few furious strokes, I realize what filthy thing I’ve be lured to and I pluck my hand from underneath the covers. But before I can say a word to my sister, Lydia’s crotch is bucking violently against the fingers she’s stuffed in her cunt. With a breathy gasp and her head falling back in rapture, I can tell she’s c*m.

How soft she is when she reappears in the real world, slightly shocked to see what she’s shown me about herself. With an odd purse of her pinkish lips she darts from the room and I remain awake long after unable to sleep.

***

I am intensely curious about Lydia and her lover, though I try to forget the image of their bodies locked together. Unfortunately, the picture of them keeps returning to my mind. How I hate that.

I’ve taken to spending my days without seeing Lydia at all. I keep to myself, reading the books father finds for me, and exploring the jungle in places I know are safe for me to go. I leave Lydia to her lusts, knowing that it’s not time for mine to bloom. They belong to a man I don’t yet know, and that is just as well. I’m only eighteen, I need to wait for the right time and the right man. Lydia is right, there are few decent men to choose from among those who arrive in our tiny port.

One afternoon, I’m taking a new trail that leads to a more isolated part of the island. Father tells me it’s a safe trail that should require no extra caution. It’s not as if there are dangerous wild animals here. The wildlife is quite tame, and the natives are gentle as lambs. I trek through a thick, dark growth of foliage for nearly a mile and then break out into a clearing. When I hear the sound of voices, I’m afraid, and squat down on the ground just in time to see Lydia standing in the midst of a spray of ferns on the jungle’s edge. She’s naked. Her breasts sway against her chest seducing the man she stares at below her. I’m sure it’s Llewellyn though I can’t see him. I creep closer wanting to see, obsessed with the prospect of seeing these nude people copulating. It would be my first time. When Lydia drops to the ground again, I move closer still, until I can peek through the bushes and catch glimpses of two naked forms writhing like snakes in the grass. I see his ass on top of her, the round globes gleaming in the sun, and his broad back and husky shoulders, even how his mouth with its black arrows descend to her lips. He has claim of her and she looks minuscule underneath his hovering form. Seeing the shaft of his c**k glide in and out of Lydia’s cunt, I can’t take my eyes off of the pair.

I wonder at his hands, how they comb the surfaces of her skin, how hands like that would feel on me ... on my breasts and my ticklish sides and on my hips where such s****l sensations begin. Following his as they move earnestly to caress all of her with an honest passion, I fear I’m jealous of her and the liberties she takes with herself. When he drops down between her thighs and begins to suck at her snatch, I feel mine jolt hard. That tongue laps her s*x like she’s candy, like an ice cream cone on a hot day. The smile behind his efforts makes me realize that s*x is a game of pleasure ... I have to restrain myself from my own and not let my hand stray to play with myself.