Junior's Dream

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Erotic Flash  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group


Junior’s Dream

 

 

Walters locked his oars, and I pushed us away from the ship. We rowed through thick mists, and I lost sight of the craft only moments later. As the bow ran ashore, we leaped into the shallow and made for the beach. Sand stretched north and south to the vanishing points. The jungle lay before us. I looked to our ship but now saw only the glimmering sea and its line on the horizon. I called out to Walters as he hauled our boat ashore.

“The ship,” I yelled over the breaking surf and pointing out to sea.

“She’s gone—sailed around the island, Captain?”

“After having dropped anchor, and to edges so distant. What of the fog bank?”

“Gone, as well, Captain.”

 I walked to the jungle’s edge, staring up into palmy trees where coconut-shaped fruit clusters hung. One of this fruit fell to the ground. Upon lifting it, I cut it with my knife and suffered lightheadedness from its glistening spume and syrupy odor. This, along with the fruit’s primarily blue color, put me off, and I tossed it aside. The jungle’s flora, a riot of shrubbery and vines, seemed impassable but, at my touch, shrank away or clamped down as with carnivorous plants. I glanced at Walters. He was lost in the sirens call, already stumbling, dry-mouthed to the interiors. Against reason, I followed, at first calling against his continuance but then joining him in the obsession. We were led by her fertility, by the scent of her goddess sex as it lingered in the slow breeze. We had no compass, knew no direction beyond the allure. The sun was a thing lost beyond the jungle canopy. Time stood still or rushed forward, I could not say. But we trudged along as the jungle fell into its position behind us; what seemed at first whispers slowly gained in volume and became the laugher of women, this and splashing as of water.

And then we came upon a lagoon, fed by a waterfall, surrounded by the goddess’s handmaidens, dressed in tunics of gossamer transparency, bare-shouldered, nubile bodied, and with trains of orchids in their hair. The goddess treads water at the center of the lagoon. She rolled to her back, and we watched from our concealment, her immaculate face, the points of her breasts and hips breaking the surface. She turned again and swam to the edges, climbing submerged steps out of the lagoon. The handmaidens flocked to the goddess’s towering frame, reaching up with fabrics to dry her voluptuous breasts, laughing amongst themselves, patting her backside, a fortress of power and muscularity. She tilted her head, and her sun-colored hair brushed the ground. Walters’ eyes fell to her sex, and he started from our hiding place. It took my remaining strength to restrain him.

And then I heard my mother’s intruding voice. “Junior,” she called, “Get up; your ride is here.”

 

End


Submitted: May 26, 2022

© Copyright 2022 Laird. All rights reserved.

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