New Society, New Rules
Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, BiSexual, Incest, Mother, Son, First, Slow,
Desc: Erotic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When a family and their servant are stranded on a deserted island, their lives and future depend on survival skills and discarding the society rules they grew up with. (This story has a lot more sex than "some sex" so I labeled it "much sex." But it's not a stroke story so it has plenty of plot and character development, which includes non-sex scenes. Also, the "slow" story code doesn't mean it's boring. It means there's story buildup before the sex begins.)
Our family jet bounced and swayed as it plowed through thunderous black clouds thirty-five thousand feet above the Pacific Ocean. A light flashed outside the window. Then another. And another. Engrossed in my game, I ignored it until I flung the iPad aside to grab the armrests. The seatbelt held me down like strong hands tugging on a kite caught in a gust of wind.
When my breathing resumed, I looked for the iPad. Where the hell was it? There wasn't a row of seats right in front of me like on a commercial jet. We didn't live like ordinary people. Screw it. I'd find it later.
The change in altitude made it a little less bumpy. A little. We had been flying for hours and my parents, sitting together up front, had not once bothered to visit me since leaving Los Angeles. Okay, maybe some of it was my fault. I had carried on about Maria coming with us.
I leaned to the side to peer down the jet's cabin. If Maria's seat hadn't been reclined I wouldn't have seen her. I guess she had been sleeping. Now she was upright, even if her seat wasn't, leaning over to peek through the window.
Maria was new. I hadn't gotten to know her yet, not even learning her last name. I didn't want to know her. Why was she there? My mother had said she was hired to help. Help who? Do what? She ran errands and other stuff, but we had a slew of servants to do that, not that any of them were accompanying us on this family vacation. I had my suspicions. A boy my age didn't need a nanny, but since my parents didn't have time for me, one came in handy. For them. Not me. Maybe when I turned sixteen in a month and had a driver's license it would eliminate the need for her.
Now without something to do, I drummed my fingers on my thighs. I looked around again. No iPad. At least Maria was nearer my age. Maybe her job was to keep me company. There weren't many children at the places we vacationed. I'm sure that was the case with the South Pacific resort catering to the super rich we were heading for. I glanced up. The seatbelt sign was still on, but it was much smoother now. What the hell. She wasn't that far away.
I flicked the buckle open and eased out of the seat. The jet rocked and bounced and shuddered as I walked on unsteady legs to a table in one of the conversation areas on my left. I grabbed it, bracing myself before taking a few more steps. The jet tilted to the right and I staggered, almost running to keep my balance, until crashing into the wall. I pushed off the wall and lurched for the closest seat and draped both arms over the back, hugging it to my chest with all my strength as the vibration spread throughout my body. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
I looked around the cabin. There's something eerie about a commercial jet designed to squeeze in over 100 people that was modified for the comfort of a few. There were tables, large leather seats, and even beds that folded up when not in use. So there was a lot of empty space. About to slide into the seat I was clutching, I realized Maria wasn't far. I bolted for the seat next to hers and plopped down with only a few bruises. She jumped and let out a little squeal, but my attention was on fastening my seatbelt. Only then did I look at her.
"Are you afraid?" I asked.
"Don't you fly a lot?"
"This is my first time on a plane. I—"
The jet dropped and tilted. Maria's fingers turned white as they gripped the armrests. Her eyes clamped shut and her lips moved. Praying?
I placed a hand atop hers and patted it. "Don't worry, it's just bad weather. I'm surprised we haven't climbed above it. It must be big."
She looked at my hand now holding hers, but didn't pull hers away. "You must think I'm acting like a baby."
"Not at all. How old are you anyway?"
"And you've never been on a plane?"
The jet bounced and rattled. Her body fell back and sprang back up. Her eyes were shut tight. I squeezed her hand and waited for her to look at me.
"Don't worry," I said, "it's a big jet."
"How come you have such a big plane for only us?"
"Well, my parents like to fly in style. Anyway, a smaller plane wouldn't have enough fuel to take us to—"
"We don't have enough fuel?" This time her whole body tensed and she rocked back and forth.
"We have plenty of fuel. That's why we have such a large jet. It's made for traveling long distances."
I pressed the button on her armrest and the seatback smacked into her. She looked over her shoulder and then at me.
"You won't bounce around so much now," I said.
A weak smile started, but a flash of lightening caused her to spin around to look out the window. When she turned back to me, she was pale. I patted her hand again. But when the window lit up with several more bright flashes and the jet rocked so much that I was thrown left and then right, my fingers tightened around hers.
The cockpit door flung open. The co-pilot dropped to a knee with his hand flat on the wall, yelling, "Got electrical problems. Radio's out. No navigation. Everyone stay in your seats. I never saw a storm like—"
My seatbelt dug into my belly. I gasped. Maria screamed. The co-pilot flew into the air like a launched rocket. I'll never forget the thud his head made slamming into the ceiling or the impossible way his neck bent. He crashed to the floor, his lifeless body rolling back and forth.
"Bobby, are you all right?" It was my mother screaming.
I watched the cockpit door slam into the wall and then the co-pilot's leg several times before I was able to reply. "Mom, I'm okay. Why don't we climb out of this storm?"
My father was the one to answer. "Stay in your seat. Mike's the best at this. He'll get us out of it."
That's when the jet nosedived and everyone in the cabin screamed. We were going to die. Maria bawled with her hands covering her face. I looked past her to stare out the window. All I saw was the smoky grayness of clouds, and then we were through it. What I saw was terrifying — the blue sea. Would I feel pain when my body was crushed?
The ocean got closer. Still closer. And then, with a whine, the jet leveled out. We would make it. Mike was a great pilot. But when I saw the white caps of the waves I knew it was over. I'd never get my driver's license.
The jet bounced once, twice, three times, again and again as my body tried to break free of the seatbelt and the back of my head slammed against the seat. I bit my lip. It bled. And then everything was still as the aircraft rocked gently on the lapping waves.
Mike jumped over his fallen co-pilot as he stormed into the cabin. "Quick, we gotta get out." He was already pulling the inflatable orange boat out.
The captain unlatched the door and yanked it open. The warm air filled the cabin with a damp, salty smell. He held the boat outside the opening and I heard a whoosh when he pulled the tab to inflate it.
"C'mon, c'mon," he screamed, motioning with his hand while holding the rope attached to the boat with his other one. Lying at his feet were two oars.
The first to move was my father. He stood in front of my mother, holding her shoulders, shaking her, yelling at her to get up. All the while, Mike hollered for us to get out of the jet. "It's gonna sink. Damn it, it's gonna sink."
Then my father did something I never thought I would see. He slapped my mother's face. He did it a second time. She grabbed his arm to stop the third one. He hauled her out of the seat and flung her towards the door. With Mom crouched next to Mike, Dad glared at me so I snapped out of my daze and unbuckled my seatbelt.
I looked at Maria. Faint whimpering came from behind her hands still pressed to her face. I unlatched her seatbelt and pulled her out of her seat as I stood up. It was like leading a mindless puppet to the door.
Mike, with his hands under Mom's armpits, swung her legs through the opening. I looked past him at my father in the boat with outstretched arms. Mom was lowered and soon curled up in the fetal position lying on her side.
When Mike grabbed Maria's leg, she kicked him and backed up into me. I instinctively wrapped my arms around her. Even with everything going on, I realized my hands were cupping her breasts. But in an instant, Mike yanked her leg and pulled her free of my grasp. He lowered her to the boat as he had my mother. I soon joined her and knelt next to Mom, brushing the hair off her face and asking her if she was all right. She didn't answer or even look at me.
Mike handed the oars down to Dad and then turned on his hands and knees with his butt towards us, lowering his right leg, letting it dangle in the air. Dad reached for it, but the jet pitched. Mike fell out. Everything would have been fine if his face hadn't smashed into the hard metal. He fell into Dad's waiting arms, knocking Dad onto his back with Mike on top. All I saw was a bloody mess where his face had been.
The jet made a creaking sound and rolled, lifting the wing on our side towards the sky. Dad pushed Mike off him.
"Bobby, get an oar. We have to get away from it."
I did as I was told and soon the ends of the oars slapped the water as Dad and I pulled with all our strengths. It took a few moments for the boat to really move, but soon the space between us and the jet increased. With our backs in the direction we were going, both Dad and I stopped rowing when the huge mass of aluminum slipped into the sea. We held onto the sides of the boat while the ripples moved under us, but then everything was calm. The huge mega-million dollar aircraft was swallowed by the sea without a trace that it had ever been there.
I realized my feet were resting on my mother's back so I moved them. Dad looked around and then pointed up at the sky.
"Seagulls. Over there. See them?"
I did see something flying in the distance. They looked a long way off.
"It must be land," Dad said. I was amazed at how calm he sounded. "We'll row that way."
"Dad, what about Mike?"
He looked at our captain and then pressed two fingers on his neck under the jawbone. He adjusted the location of his fingers several times and then shook his head.
"He's gone. We better bury him at sea."
I didn't move so Dad tried to hoist the body over the side, but when the boat rocked I helped. With a little splash, our captain sank into the ocean. I stared at his fading body until it was gone. Dad was saying something so I turned towards him, just in time to see him make the sign of the cross.
"Grab your oar," he said. "I don't know how far it is and we don't have food or water. And we don't want to be out here in the dark. We better get going."
"Where are we going?"
"Over there." He thrust his thumb over his shoulder.
"I mean, where is that?"
"I guess we'll find out when we get there."