Vacation Gone Wrong

by

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Heterosexual, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, Wife Watching, Humiliation, Gang Bang, Group Sex, White Couple, Black Male, Oral Sex, Cream Pie, Double Penetration, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Anna and her husband go to an island curious about whether they would be good Peace Corps Volunteers. Her husband tries to humor some of the local boys with a magic trick; not knowing how superstitious they are. Anna is forced to make ammends for his transgressions with her body.

I originally wrote this story with a different idea and forgot to change the title.

When I posted this story, I had been getting such low scores, I was hesitant to finish it; thinking I would post part of it and see what kind of comments I got. Although the scores were still very low, a surprising number of people emailed me and asked me to finish it. This is the continuation of that story.

VACATION GONE WRONG (It was Forced Landing)

Anna Maria Munson couldn't help but feel excited as the plane circled the island. She felt like Jessica Lange, circling the desolate but fascinating home of King Kong.

The island was basically a jungle with a mountain range along one side; the ridge of a volcano. It had huge ridges and ravines running down from the top to the ocean on the steepest ridges going down to the water. On the side facing the main portion of the island, the side of the volcano had been blown off and the crater had long black streaks of lava; hardened over the centuries and starting to erode enough to have jungle growth along the sides. The main part of the crater was filled with tall banyans, and other tall trees.

Faza town, on the North Coast of Pate Island, is known by the name of Ampaza dates back to the 14th century. It was nestled into the base of the high ridges of the crater and sprawled along the flatter base of the bottom of the crater. It was a semi clearing among densely populated jungle.

Anna shivered as the small plane hit ground and coasted to a stop. So far, it had been a wild dream. The sudden slowing of the plane brought her to reality. She could feel the heat and smell the ocean. She could almost taste the salt.

There were no stewardesses to thank them for flying when they landed. There was no tunnel to guide them to an air-conditioned terminal. A tall, dark black man in camouflage pants; with the ends tucked into his high, black laced boots stood there with his arms stretched above his head. His green khaki shirt had no sleeves. His gun-metal Uzi was slung over his shoulder.

Anna was the last one out. Her husband, Ken, the pilot turned after he had gotten out and the two of them helped her step out of the plane. It was a couple feet down. Anna put her hands on the two men's' shoulders and jumped the short distance to the tarmac.

Marcel, the 6'-6" monster to her right put his left hand under her right arm pit. Ken, her husband was on her left. He took her left hand in his, with his right hand under her left armpit. As she jumped down, her husband helped soften the jump. Marcel, who had his left hand under her armpit, shifted his right hand from hers to her breast as she landed.

"Was this an accident?" she wondered, slightly embarrassed. He could have slipped. She looked up into his eyes, searching for some sign. He looked her straight in the eye and winked. There was no doubt in her mind he had done it on purpose.

"Welcome to the island, Miss Anna." Marcel said as he smiled. Ken, her husband seemed oblivious to the slip of his hand. He was relieved to have the flight over and too excited about being there to notice the faux pas his guide had made.

Anna looked from Marcel to her husband, looking for signs of whether her husband had seen what happened and what; if anything he would do about it. He hadn't seemed to notice.

In one respect, it may have been for the better. Her husband would have been no match for the much bigger, ferociously muscled savage with a gun over his shoulder. They needed him for a guide. Anna decided not to make an issue of it. If she had, maybe it could have ruined their whole trip.

They were there to relax; sort of. They had enjoyed exploring different islands throughout the world. They had explored many different regions over the years. This year, they had come to the chain of islands along the borders of Kenya, Tanzania and Somalia. Pate Island was an area surrounded in myth and mystery.

Now that her husband was eligible to retire, he wanted to try something different. He had talked her into the possibility of taking a year sabbatical to work for the Peace Corps in Kenya. It would be killing two birds with one bullet. Not only would they be doing something to contribute to society, they would also be furthering their own careers in the area of Social Anthropology. Anna had spent hundreds of hours researching the background of the area and its cultural history.

She found that Pate Island is the largest island in the Lamu Archipelago, which lies between the towns of Lamu and Kiunga, close to the border with Somalia. From the 7th century, Pate Island was an early site of Arabic colonization. It long vied as a Swahili port with Lamu and with Takwa on Manda Island and came to prominence around the 14th century, but was subjugated by Lamu in the 19th century.

Faza town, on the North coast, known by the name of Ampaza by the Portuguese dates back at least to the 14th century. In 1587 Faza was destroyed by the Portuguese as the local Sheikh had supported Mirale Bay, a notorious privateer who had earlier played a key role in ousting the Portuguese from Muscat. The Portuguese arrived from Goa with some 650 men on their punitive expedition, and unleashed their fury on Faza. Everybody they could find was killed, including the local Sheikh. The Portuguese preserved his head in a barrel of salt for display in India.

After 4 days of looting they invited Fazas arch-rivals from Pate town to take away anything that they liked from Faza. Faza was later resettled. The Portuguese in Faza constructed a chapel there. However, nothing remains of it. In the 18th century Faza again fell into decline due to the rise of Pate

Pate Town is situated on the South-West coast of the island. The town of Pate was founded by refugees from Oman in the 8th century and re-founded by members of the Nabahani family, also from Oman, in 1204. In the 14th century Pate was so powerful that it had conquered most of the coastal towns of East Africa.

The 18th century was known as the "Golden Age of Pate", when the town was at its height of powers and also prospered in fine arts. Builders constructed some of the finest houses on the East Africa coast, with extensive elaborate plaster works. Goldsmiths made intricate jewelry, fine cloths (including silks) were made by Pate's weavers and carpenters produced fine wooden furniture. The use and production of the musical instrument known as Siwa were most famous.

They were here to spend a few weeks vacationing in the islands and try to decide if they would actually take the next whole year off and spend it with the native people. Anna wanted to study their languages, dialects and customs. Her husband, Ken wanted to document as much as he could for a book.

"Anna, honey, why don't you have Marcel take you and the luggage to our hotel. I will need to check some things on this plane before I tie it down. He can come back for me later." Her husband said as he took the bags out of the six-seater and placed them on the tarmac.

"That's okay, Ken, I can wait for you." Anna said; uncomfortable with the possibility of being alone with Marcel with the way he had handled her when she got out of the plane.

"No; you need to check in with the hotel people; get our stuff stored, and make sure everything is okay." He wasn't looking at her, but he was pretty firm with his instructions.

Anna practically threw the bags into the back of the Hummer. It was a military surplus vehicle with no top. She threw the bags over the side; not caring how they landed or if anything broke. She was more angry than scared. She didn't think Marcel would dare do any more than he already had. They would be driving down the main road to the hotel and stopping at the main office.

Marcel went around to the passenger side to help her in. Anna was wearing a short, green wrap-around sundress, high-heeled cord sandals, a large straw hat and Dolce Gabanna sunglasses.

The floor of the hummer was about waist high for her. It would be awkward for her to stretch out in that dress and try to step up to get in. She had almost no choice but to accept Marcel's help. She didn't quite know what to do or how he was going to help.

Before she had a chance to react, Marcel put his left hand around her back and his right hand under her legs, like a husband carries his wife over the threshold. He picked her up. With his height, she was easily level with the opening on the passenger side. There was no door; just the opening.

It happened pretty fast. Anna had no time to protest or resist. In fact she was powerless to do anything. When he picked her up, about all she could do was hold her dress down in a presentable manner. She tried desperately to keep the bottom of her dress pulled up against her. It was a pretty short dress anyway, so there wasn't much room for it to ride up and keep any modesty.

Marcel was close enough to just put her on the seat, but he didn't. He picked her up and watched her struggle with her modesty. He had his right arm against the bare skin along the underside of her thighs.

"These Hummers are pretty high off the ground. They also have a lift kit that makes them a little higher." He said with a grin. Marcel could feel her creamy smooth legs under the dress. He shifted his grip. He slid his hand off of her left leg and slid his hand between her legs.

She felt him shift his left hand from behind her back. He slid it around her side to cup her left breast. Anna's mind was screaming: 'Put me down you cocksucker!" It was silent of course; she didn't want her husband to be in a position of having to do something if he knew.

.... There is more of this story ...

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