Chapter 1: Paid Vacation

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, DomSub, Group Sex, Orgy, Harem, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Paid Vacation - A group of beautiful, bi-sexual women spend six weeks on a tropical island in the South Pacific with one very lucky man. The girls develop intimate relationships with each other, but some set their carnal sights on their male host. A very long and detailed novel about not only life, love and happiness, but also loss, depression and despair.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Finally, the time was at hand - the girls were arriving today! This past week was devoted to getting everything on the island ready for the six young ladies who would spend the upcoming six weeks here with me. I worked 20 hours per day getting the mansion ready, installing all of the wiring and video equipment, and finally stocking the supplies for the six women and yours truly with plenty left over to spare for emergencies. The supply boat would only come once a week, so if there was a massive storm or unforeseen disaster, we could potentially be stranded. With the reserves in place, however, we would not be stranded without an ample amount of food and other necessities to easily tide us through. Thus, everything on the island was set to go.

Soon, it would be time to take the big boat to the mainland and pick the ladies up at the airport. I could hardly wait!

With their detailed biographies and several photographs archived on my computer server, I decided to take one final look at the collection of women before departing. They had been screened and interviewed extensively for what would happen over the upcoming six weeks. I did my best to get a nice variety of different looks and personalities. At the same time, though, my goal was for the girls to be compatible with not only me, but each other as well. Their individual profiles were a definite sight to behold on the computer.

All six of these women were chosen with the highest regard to physical appearance, brains and temperament. A great deal of time and money had been invested into this. A whole year of preparations were at stake, beginning with the thousands of flyers sent to health clubs and universities all across North America offering six weeks of relaxation and fun on the tropical island that I called home, and a cool, whopping payment of $100,000 (USD) at the end. One of these six women would receive something even more lucrative - $500,000 (USD).

The inquiries flooded in and then the applications. Going over them resulted in three-fourths being promptly rejected, but then it got much tougher. Requests for additional information, including photographs, were sent out and as a result, some of the applicants replied. The list was pared once again and then from there, the finalists were chosen subject to comprehensive background searches and, more importantly, one-on-one video conference interviews. From those 20 finalists, the super six were eventually chosen. Perhaps not surprisingly, those decisions certainly rank as some of the hardest that I have ever had to make in my life.

Who were these ladies? They ranged in age from 18 to 30, and all of them were bi-sexual or, at the very least, overly curious concerning other women. It was a requirement for acceptance. Obviously, it turned a lot of potentials away, but those were the only type of ladies that I was interested in bringing to the island. As for who each of them were...

A glorious, sexy melange of Spanish and Asian heritage, Camille was a buxom and charming 25-year-old who worked as a title processor for a real estate agency in the San Diego area. Camille had an incredible body, no doubt, but also the outgoing nature and friendly demeanor to match. Long, coal-black hair and dark, piercing eyes only added to her sensuous appeal. The luscious Latina still lived at home with her parents, but looked at these upcoming six weeks on the island as a way to really branch out in life and explore new possibilities. I was happy to afford her the chance.

The dancing queen of Baltimore, Pamela had made quite a nice living for herself in the fast-paced, frenzied world of adult entertainment. More specifically, Pamela (age 30) was a stripper. She certainly did not fit its usual stereotype, however. Pamela was perhaps the smartest, most intellectual person I had ever come across in my life. She was a proud, card-carrying member of Mensa and ranked very high on the Dean's List at the Maryland university which she attended. Pamela was using her earnings as an exotic dancer to make it through college, with the goal of one day becoming a teacher.

Age 30 as well, Amy was employed as both a waitress and bartender at a Cincinnati restaurant. A red-headed ravisher who was much more than just a pretty face (and fantastic body), the first thing people invariably noticed about Amy was her astonishing beauty. And why not? It was difficult to miss. A creamy-skinned seductress with emerald green eyes and all-natural 36d-25-36 measurements that were nicely packed onto her 5-foot-6 frame, Amy was the type of woman who got noticed everywhere she went simply because of her physical characteristics alone. An extremely flirtatious and aggressive individual, Amy welcomed (and craved) all of the lustful attention that was continually heaped upon her.

But like everyone else, Amy had her share of shortcomings. She had been through a failed marriage and seemed to take immense pride in exuding a bad girl persona. In fact, Amy cheated on her ex-husband with four different guys in their first year of marriage, and then even more in the third (and final). She seemed very gratified with those affairs, too.

Still, I got the feeling from our telephone conversations that Amy was a good and sincere person. She had made some very misguided and wayward decisions in her life - no doubt - but there was something about Amy which drew me to her, and piqued my interest. I believed if she were to find the right man, Amy would finally settle down and turn out to be the ideal, picture-perfect (and faithful) wife. Could that elusive right man ultimately turn out to be yours truly?

A true, quintessential All-American girl, Devon was apple pie, soft blue eyes and warm summer nights on the front porch swing. The 27-year-old had a spellbinding face and shiny, long blonde hair, a taut, shapely figure, flawless skin and an upbeat, lively attitude. With all of these positive attributes, as well as a personable and gregarious nature, how could anyone not find a lady such as Devon appealing?

In fact, I got the impression during our initial telephone discussion - and nothing had changed my mind since - that Devon was a true, bona-fide princess. Her squealy voice and infectious personality had warmed my heart, and made me feel good inside. Also during those same conversations, I came to the conclusion that there was a good, genuine quality about Devon. What exactly was genuine, I was not sure of at this point in time. But I had six whole weeks to find out...

Trish was a marvelous, captivating young lady with lush brown eyes, long, yellow-blonde hair and the type of bright, pearly-white smile often seen in toothpaste advertisements. Trish's natural beauty was all-encompassing - from the toes on her feet all the way up through a 5-foot-4 frame of toned, busty flesh, to the very crown of her pretty head.

Trish was the only woman of the group who did not reside in the United States. She was a born-and-bred Canadian who had spent all of her life in and around Toronto. Trish was a physical fitness enthusiast who found work as an instructor at a health club in her hometown. This 30-year-old was full of the sweetness and sunshine that made everyone around her feel as if they had just met a new friend. Trish was the type of woman that good things always seemed to happen to, simply because she was such a warm-hearted, friendly person.

Trish's dream in life, aside from getting married and having a family, was to own a fitness center. Perhaps the money that I was paying her for spending these six weeks here would help make that dream a reality for her? Or maybe I would assist in helping Trish's ultimate dream come true? That being, of course, the aspiration of one day finding a husband and having children with him. Could that man be me?

Last but certainly not least was Lindsay, a deliriously beautiful 18-year-old who just graduated from high school three days ago. Lindsay was a total vision of loveliness who seemed entirely too sweet and innocent to get involved in a naughty project such as the one that I was presenting. Nevertheless, I gladly welcomed Lindsay, along with her very ripe and nubile 34c-22-32 figure, into my midst.

With long-flowing blonde hair, blue eyes and the face of a cosmetics model, Lindsay was the embodiment of everything that a cheerleader should be. She was the captain of the squad while attending high school in Ohio and, I am certain, brought a great deal of team spirit to the mix. I would also wager that Lindsay had invoked a lot of vivid fantasies and desires for others while shaking that little cheerleader ass of hers, too. She definitely would have for me! Oh ... just the mere idea really seems to get me going.

All six of these women were bi-sexual, beautiful and very unique, but in their own special way. My upcoming sabbatical with them promised some fireworks as the group of charming ladies began to compete for the grand payout of $500,000.

The catch, however, was that none of them knew what the criteria for winning the big prize was. I was not about to clue them in, either. All they knew and all they would be told was that six weeks from now, one of them would receive a cashier's check for $500,000. The remaining five would also receive a cashier's check, but for $100,000. The process for choosing who got the big payout would remain a mystery until the end. I felt as if this was really the only way to go.


A brief 30 minutes after I had arrived at the airport on the mainland, the jetliner approached and touched down. I watched it taxi to the terminal building and stop 50 feet short. A few moments later, the plane rolled forward until it reached the gate. There were about 200 passengers aboard, but six of them belonged to me. My body started to tingle as droves of travelers began filing out into the airport gate. All of the hard work, the preparations, the countless hours and restless nights over the past year for this one, exact moment ... I could not believe that it was finally here!

It was quite easy to pick out which of the passengers were guests of mine. All I had to do was pay attention to the twitching of my cock - it had an excellent memory of all of the photographs and profiles saved on the computer server back on the island. Fortunately for me, I had on a pair of casual, loose-fitting shorts!

As the travelers exited the airline, I held up a sign to let the six girls know that I was here to greet them. In two minutes, the whole group was standing around me in a semi-circle. They were even more beautiful in person!

"Welcome ladies," I announced to them. "My name is Jeremy and I shall be your host for the next six weeks. We'll have your luggage taken to the boat and then we shall then head for our island paradise retreat. Are there any questions?"

"How about we stop and get something to eat, eh? I do not know about everyone else, but I'm absolutely STARVING! All there was to eat on the plane was little snack boxes."

My mind flashed through the several photographs/profiles and tried to put a name with the face. "Sure ... Trish, isn't it?" Yes, Trish ... I said to myself. I actually came to that conclusion not because I had placed her name with any of her photographs (or even the video conferences we once shared), but because of the ripe Canadian flavor in Trish's voice (the eh gave it away). "There is plenty of food and refreshments on the big boat," I added, my focus locked onto the beautiful, breathtaking blonde from Toronto. "You will have all you can eat there, and I promise it will be much more appetizing than your typical airline box snack."

Several of the girls laughed as Trish rubbed her flat, toned stomach with a hopeful expression on her enchanting face. She must have really been hungry, I told myself.

Wanting to soothe those pains, I quickly headed for the exit to the terminal building and the group followed in tow. I could tell that the ladies had already developed some friendships as they got to know one another on the long airline flight here from Miami, Florida. They were bound to find each other - since all of them were instructed to wear black wristbands around their right elbow. Not only that, but their seats were all grouped together on the airline as well. It had been my plan for them to develop friendships on the flight. Now, I realized that it worked. So far, at least, things had fallen into place. I could not have been more happier because of this, too...

All of the ladies and yours truly hopped into the private bus that I had previously arranged for, and we were promptly whisked across town to the marina. Once their luggage was stowed away, the group boarded the big boat with me - a 72 foot, high-speed Teknicraft Catamaran Excursion Cruiser - and we immediately set sail for our destination. Since the capacity for this vessel - aptly dubbed by myself as the Pussywillow Express (for obvious, clear-cut reasons!) - was 172 passengers, there was an ample amount of room for everyone to kick back, relax and feel comfortable.

During the cruise, a couple of the ladies had gathered in the lower cabin, where they relaxed while lightly snacking and sipping some refreshments (the hungry Trish included, of course). The remaining ladies were all assembled on the top deck of the boat, getting an early start with their suntans. The respective conversations between both groups had become quite friendly and animated; everyone was having a wonderful time. That made me feel even better. Needless to say, I was aiming for a very peaceful co-existence for the seven (and eventually nine) of us over the course of the next six weeks. That was a very tall order, indeed, but it was my goal.

Past the barrier reef, the waves became larger and some of the ladies squealed with delight at the roller coaster ride, while others held on tight, looking scared and pale. The one who seemed to be having the most difficulty during the choppy water phase of our voyage, unfortunately, was Lindsay. But a big bowl of vanilla ice cream (topped with sprinkles and chocolate syrup), as well as healthy words of support from Trish and Devon, seemed to help settle and soothe Lindsay's jaggled nerves. Still, the girl was having problems and would probably be happier than anyone else once we finally reached landfall. Clearly, Lindsay had never been on a long ocean cruise - four hours - like this before.

Add all of those thousands of miles Lindsay spent flying in the air earlier today to the bumpy boat ride, and I believe that it would be safe to assume that she was feeling a bit nauseated right now. I felt very concerned, naturally, and promised her that we would reach our island destination soon.

As luck would have it, Lindsay actually dozed off for a good 20 or 30 minutes near the end of our cruise. What a sweet and touching sight it was to see her seated on a side bench, her head resting and using Trish's willing shoulder as a pillow, as she caught a quick and much-deserved nap. Trish, of course, just sat idly by and did not dare move a muscle. She did not want to disturb and/or rouse Lindsay at all.

I cannot stress just how innocent and defenseless, with her mouth slightly ajar, the 18-year-old from Cincinnati looked right now as she used Trish's shoulder as her own, personal stanchion. I was not the only one who felt this way, either, as both Pamela and Devon snapped photographs of the touching scene with their respective cell phones. Trish even got them to take a video of it with her own wireless device.

It quickly became apparent that this was going to be my first, true memory of the upcoming six weeks. Lindsay looked like a Heaven-sent angel, just slumbering away there! Hopefully, there would be several more memories to follow.


With layers of clouds trickled here-and-there, the sky surrounding the setting sun on this breezy June evening was a brilliant, tropical shade of orange as the catamaran made its final approach toward the island. All six of the ladies (the groggy Lindsay included) were gathered together upon the top deck of the boat, so they could take in the wondrous, untamed beauty of the island. The general consensus among them was a sense of sheer awe.

I have held steadfast in the belief since day one that anyone would be hard-pressed to find a more beautiful, picturesque location in the entire world than the private island which I had considered home for the past 16 years.

Located 130 miles away from the coastal city of Lima, Peru (South America), the island was literally a virgin territory. With the exception of the large mansion, outdoor recreation complex, horse stables and access roads which encircled it, the island was basically the same as God had created it. That, of course, was the way it should be.

The few people who visited my little corner of paradise over the past 16 years fell in love with the dramatic views, the tropical fusion of stars at night and the chance to be alone with the elements. Here one found palm-fringed blue lagoons, a lush rain forest, hidden gardens, cascading waterfalls and a wild river running between two canyons. And those beautiful beaches - gold, red, black and green sands - were caressed by an endless, peaceful surf.

The putt-putt golf course, located in the recreation area next to the mansion, had an intricate (and very unique) design which appealed to even novice players. Alternative forms of outdoor entertainment included horseback riding in the forest, scuba diving off the coast, or taking the Jeep for the day and paving one's own course through the wilderness. This island was, without question, a true paradise.

The rustling in my shorts reminded me to keep my mind on the task at hand, or run the definite risk of foundering on the barrier reef. I quickly steered the large boat into the opening of the reef left by the fresh water pouring into the ocean at that spot, and docked at the pier.

"Ladies, we have arrived. There are also food and drinks at the mansion. Please leave your luggage here on the boat. We can come back later and pick the bags up with the Jeep. No use carrying the luggage all the way to the mansion."

They all seemed in agreement. After I secured the boat, the girls jumped out and we headed up the narrow path to the main house some 2,000 feet away. The last 100 were steps which had been laid with slabs of volcanic rock. The estate, a Mediterranean-style villa, greeted us with its wide-open design which allowed the sea breezes to easily pass through and carry the scent of flowers and the fresh, tropical air.

At the front entry, several of my lovely female guests turned their attention toward the center peak of the home. This was where, at a two- and three-story height, etched glass front doors and windows depicted the sea at the bottom and birds in the sky at the top. Outside colors, I should mention, were peach and aqua, which (in my opinion) enhanced the serenity and tranquil ambiance that prevailed here. But the outside of the estate, although beautiful, did not even begin to tell the story about what awaited indoors.

Stepping inside, the ladies were immediately stunned by the eye-catching assortment of interesting and entertaining details. To help create and maintain a sense of warmth in a residence this large, there was an abundance of visual stimuli. Everywhere there was something to see, something going on, something intriguing.

Inside the front room was a circular wet bar sculpted with a rich, blue granite countertop. Several panels of beveled mirror wrapped around the bar and reflected the creamy-toned marble floor outlined in sheer, black granite.

Beyond the bar was the rear wall of glass doors which opened to a reflection pond. In the center of the pond were two volcano-like apparatus structures which erupted with fire under the control of the home's automation system. The automated computer system included 30 miles of wiring which controlled all of the home's lighting, climate settings, music and security. At the touch of many LCD panels located throughout, music by way of CD/MP3 or satellite station could be played in any zone of the estate.

Views from inside the front doorway also included the tropical forest and the infinity-edge swimming pool which seemingly emptied out into the Pacific in the distance. Additionally, the backyard included waterfalls, pools and rock fountains surrounded by lush, abundant landscaping.

Ahead and off to the left of the bar area was an informal eating nook that was nestled in a corner beside the glass windows and doors for maximum views of the outdoors. To preserve these views from nearby areas, the nook featured an all-glass table with acrylic chairs. Solid furniture would have obstructed the view and distracted from the openness.

Adjacent from the nook was the kitchen. A chef's dream, this kitchen contained two of each major appliance, and a trio of dishwashers. One of them was a huge machine that featured a conveyer belt for the cleaning and drying of the dishes. Cabinetry was maple with black granite countertops and backsplashes to contrast the light colors of the walls. The design of the ceiling mimicked the shape of the island and breakfast bar cabinetry. In the dining room, the dark wicker chairs and wooden table (large enough to comfortably seat 15) made an elegant statement without being too flashy.

The living room was seen from the dining room through an archway. There, the fireplace of French marble rose more than 20 feet and was framed by sweeping panels of mirrors. Glass doors revealed the awesome view of the pools and rock fountains against the backdrop of the lush forest.

Needless to say, the ladies were captivated as I took them on the whirlwind tour. Trish made the comment that she believed houses like this only existed in the movies, while Lindsay said that this was definitely nothing like the Ohio residence she had grown up on during all of her 18 years.

Before reaching the master suite, one would have to pass through the anteroom where the glass wall was showcased. Weighing a full two tons, the nine-foot-wide curving wall was 3,000 feet of 1/4-inch plate glass layered and secured into place. Over 1,000 fiber optic strands were inserted when the glass was installed. Those fiber optic strands produced dazzling, brilliant beams of light of 56 different patterns.

The ceiling here was also a work of art, consisting of four fiberglass sections forming a dome that was painted to resemble the evening sky and then illuminated with fiber optic lights to twinkle like bright stars. A medallion on the floor also reflected the changing colors of light.

The opposite wing of the mansion included a hobby room, shower room, ten guest suites with washrooms, the home office and an OmniMAX movie theater. The walk, 200 feet in length from one wing to the other, was entertaining.

One of my favorite features was the wall of electronic art located just before arriving at the huge office. Three abstractly-configured, etched glass frames contained flat screen studio monitors for digital art. Thousands of digital photographs were stored in computers that drove the screens. The automation system could randomly sequence the pictures, or change them after a sensor detected someone passing by. Either way, the digital art was unique and provided an interesting and ever-changing variety of images.

Beyond the hobby room was a spiral staircase that led to a rooftop garden overlooking the main pool and tennis court. An elevator descended to the below-ground recreation room, which included two pool tables, plus a wide variety of slot and pinball machines with bubblers, arcade games and neon lights above. I even had a PlayStation 3, X-Box 360 and a trio of Falcon Northwest Mach V computer systems with Internet access available. The bright colors of the carpet throughout added to the overall sense of fun that I wanted the recreation room to portray to others.

After doubling back to the main entrance, I turned and smiled at the lovely collection of ladies. "This is as much your home for the upcoming six weeks as it is mine. I want you to explore and dabble in everything that there is to do here. The only place that is strictly off-limits to you, without getting permission first, is my own bedroom. No one is allowed in there without knocking first. Please, now ... can everyone agree with that?" Nods all around...

"There is so much that I want to do here!" Trish squealed, obviously full of excitement. "I want to try the recreation room where all those games and pool tables are. But I also want to go swimming in that beautiful pool outside. I want to play putt-putt golf and watch movies in that theater! I wanna go to the beach, too! Think how awesome it must be!" Indeed, Trish was literally bubbling over with enthusiasm.

"I could go for in a good dip in the pool," Pamela mused. "It felt so humid and dry outside."

I smiled at her. "Another thing all of you will like is that each guest suite comes with its own personal climate conditioning system. Just type whatever temperature you want on the wall panel, and you're set. It ranges from 50 to 85 degrees Fahrenheit. The change is almost instantaneous. It is the best climate conditioning system money can buy."

"50?" Devon gushed. "I don't think we want it THAT low."

"My brother, Eduardo, keeps his house around 60 degrees in the summer," Camille complained. "I'm always cold there. He does it because of his allergies. Whenever I visit him, I sit outside more often than not. I'm basically forced to. It feels like a constant arctic freeze inside his house."

"I would sit outside if I were you, too," Trish offered. "Isn't the weather in San Diego gorgeous year-round, eh? I would doubt there is even a need for an air conditioner."

"I bet there is plenty more to see in this mansion," Amy said, looking my way. "You didn't show us everything..."

I shook my head at her. "No, I didn't. But I will in due time. Feel free to branch out and explore on your own. You may go anywhere except my private suite. As I think about it, Louisa's room is off-limits, too. But I see no reason why you would want to go into her suite. She is our cook and housekeeper, and is 76 years of age."

Pamela glanced about in all different directions. "The guy who owns the strip club where I work has a mansion sort of like this. I say SORT OF because this place is so much better. He throws holiday parties for us there every year. I must say that this house is a hundred times bigger, too."

"And a million times more impressive, I'd wager," Trish chimed in. Excellent, I told myself. Clearly, all of my esteemed guests were in love with the house and everything that it had to offer. Especially Trish. I felt relieved. Indeed, everything seemed to be falling into place.

"Where can a girl get something to drink around here?" Amy asked, obviously referring to alcohol.

I pointed toward the circular wet bar located on the other side of the front room. "You will find plenty of whatever you need behind the counter there. It is well stocked-up."

Amy smiled in delight, then sashayed off toward the bar. Camille followed her. Swish swish, wiggle wiggle ... it sure was a sight to admire the lush, rounded backsides of Amy and Camille as they made their way over to the bar. I found myself temporarily mesmerized by the wondrous view.

"I'm too young to drink," Lindsay pouted, looking at me. Oh dear Lord, I said inwardly, Lindsay was a complete and total doll. She looked incredibly sexy with that tiny pout on her beautiful, unblemished face as well. Lindsay was too young to drink? Oh ... poor baby. I felt like wrapping my arms around that little body of hers and telling her that everything would be all right. What a sweetheart!...

"It's okay," Trish said, slipping an arm around Lindsay's shoulder. "You don't need any of that nasty stuff anyway."

Lindsay offered a very shy, somewhat embarrassed smile the very instant Trish wrapped that arm around her shoulder. The 18-year-old's humble and innocent nature seemed out of place amongst her older and more seasoned counterparts here (none more so than me, to be perfectly honest).

One of my early priorities would be to get Lindsay to open up to us over the coming days and weeks. Being a sheltered girl from Ohio, with devout religious beliefs, who also just graduated from high school three days ago, everything here may have been too much for Lindsay to digest all at once. The situation was not helped by the fact that she was also away from her family for the first time ever in her life.

Perhaps I was wrong - it has happened many times before, of course - but I got the sense that Lindsay seemed somewhat intimidated by all of the things that were happening around her thus far. With her humble upbringing thus far in life, one could definitely understand why. Over time, I hoped to help bring Lindsay out of that apparent life-long shell. The others would have to play an important role in that, too.

"Alcohol is bad for you," Trish added, slowly guiding Lindsay away. "Trust me, sweetheart. You don't ever need to get started on alcohol. All it does is lead to bad things down the road." Lindsay nodded her head as Trish chirped, "Let's go into the kitchen and see if we can find something decent for you to drink, like some orange juice. My own personal favorite is Kool-Aid." Trish glanced at me for a moment before telling Lindsay, "Jeremy promised me a few weeks back, when I was talking to him on webcam, that he would have plenty of Kool-Aid on hand for me."

"I do not think you will be disappointed," I assured her. "You'll find enough Kool-Aid in there to last you for the rest of your life. Literally speaking, of course."

"There is nothing wrong with getting started on alcohol," Amy commented, taking a sip of wine. Thankfully, she seemed pleased with its taste. That gave me yet another sense of relief, too. Obviously, I wanted everything on the island to be perfect. The only way that would be possible is if all of the ladies were happy and content with what was offered here. What kind of host would I be otherwise?

Camille nodded her head, seemingly in agreement with Amy about the prospects of drinking alcohol. With Trish and Lindsay now safely out of earshot, Amy promptly continued, "It does not lead to bad things down the road, either. Like anything else, that only happens when the alcohol becomes an addiction that spirals out of control. Just don't let that happen to you, though, and there will be no problems." Amy grinned and added in a most devious tone of voice, "I do not know about the rest of you, but me personally, I would LOVE to get Lindsay totally drunk someday very soon!"

Although I could not tell if Amy was serious with what she had just said or was merely joking around, I narrowed my eyes in displeasure at her regardless. Needless to say, I did not like or approve of that particular comment.

"Lindsay is too young and impressionable to be forced or coerced into anything," Pamela surmised, looking at Amy with a disapproving glare. "I hope you were kidding with what you just said, Amy. If Lindsay wants to try alcohol, let her do it on her own terms. She does not need someone to get her drunk, no matter if it would be a thrill to you or not. What a harsh thing to say about such an innocent girl."

Good, I said to myself. There was at least one person here - Pamela - who felt the same, exact way I did. Even better, someone else took objection to Amy's words as well.

"Lindsay is a baby compared to the rest of us," Devon chimed in. "We are all ages 25 to 30. She is 18. Not only that, but the girl seems so incredibly shy and apprehensive about everything here. I just think that it is plain wrong to talk about her that way, Amy. Just plain wrong. Come to think of it, three of us are 30, and I am 27. There is a 9 plus year age difference between Lindsay and four of the five other girls she is with now. That must be awkward for her. I know it would be awkward for me at that age."

"If I got Lindsay drunk, it would help loosen her up."

Pamela tilted her head and shot Amy quite the evil eye. "Stop it! It is wrong to even think something like that."

Amy snickered at the reaction she was getting from Pamela and Devon. She added fuel to the fire by chortling, "You know my motto in life? Screw milk ... vodka does a body good! Given the chance, Lindsay would think the same, exact way. We need to loosen her up, break her in - so to speak."

Devon frowned and shook her head at Amy. "You better be glad that Trish is in the kitchen right now with Lindsay. If Trish heard you say these things, Amy, she would be most unhappy. Trish really likes Lindsay, you know."

"And has nothing but Lindsay's best interests in mind," Pamela nodded, her arms folded across her front. "I can guarantee you that Trish does not have a selfish thought at all when it comes to Lindsay. Not one selfish thought."

"Oh ... settle down!" Amy squealed, flicking her wrist toward Pamela and Devon. "I was only kidding..."

"Really?" Devon asked, obviously skeptical.

"Trish wants a piece of Lindsay's ass just like the rest of us," Camille quipped. "All Trish cares about is getting her clutches into that little, teen ass."

"Not true!" Devon angrily huffed, upset with those words. "Trish really, truly does care about Lindsay. Didn't you see how she treated her on the boat ride from Peru?"

Camille did not concur. "What I saw was Trish's eyes ravaging Lindsay's body at every single opportunity."

"You did not!" Devon shot back.

Amy let loose with an evil snicker. "Trish is really no different than the rest of us. She wants to stick her nose as far up Lindsay's ass as it will go. That is probably what she is working toward right now in the kitchen by being so nice and friendly toward her. Come on ... admit it."

"Amy!" Devon gasped, taken off-guard.

Camille licked her lips and clearly agreed with Amy's wicked mindset. "Now THAT sounds like a good idea!"

Amy smiled. "I bet Trish is wanting to strap one on, and take that little 100 pound body - or however much Lindsay weighs - and split her like a wishbone. Snap her in half! Snap her in half, put her back together, then do it again! And again, and again, and again!"

Pamela frowned and shook her head. "All this crude talk and thinking; I thought I left the strip club behind me. This was supposedly a vacation for me, not more of the same." She sighed and added, "Maybe it is true that you can leave the strip club, but the strip club never truly leaves you. A friend of mine told me that years ago."

Amy's green eyes flashed with mischief. "Hmmmmm ... how about Lindsay as a stripper? I would definitely pay for a lap dance from her. I'd even pay to lick her little pussy. Or maybe I'd make her pay me..."

"You are one sick and twisted freak, Amy."

"I know," she told Devon, laughing. "And I love it!"

"I don't want to hear any more of this!" Pamela declared, obviously becoming quite upset.

Since it seemed as if this discussion had the potential to turn into a heated argument, I decided to put an end to it before things got that far. "Settle down, ladies. I am sure that all of you are a bit irritable and cranky after all those airline miles today, but there is absolutely no need for raising your voice. Take a step back and relax. There are plenty of drinks behind the counter where Amy and Camille are. In the walk-in cooler, in the kitchen, you will find a wide variety of orange juice, soda products, milk and punch. Everything here is for all of you to enjoy. Why not get something to drink and settle down ... relax?"

"Alcohol and I simply do not mix any more," Devon told us. "I could go for a tall glass of orange juice, though." With that, Devon turned and then made her way into the kitchen.

"I could go for a tall glass of Lindsay," Amy mumbled, although I could make out what she said. She finished off her glass of expensive wine and mused, "Or just a shot..."

I simply looked at Amy and shook my head. She was clearly a very out-spoken and blunt - almost gruff - type of person. Amy needed to use a lot more tact when choosing her words. What if Trish, who seemed overly protective of Lindsay thus far, had heard all of these naughty things Amy was saying? Well trained in kickboxing, the athletic Trish may very well take it upon herself to boot Amy into next week. The last thing I wanted was any sort of altercation between the girls.

Moving onto better subjects, I should mention that Louisa, the elderly housekeeper, had set up a large table with baskets of fruit in the dining room with a wide selection of snacks, including a variety of smoked fish, breads and cheeses.

"Soon," I told the ladies, "we'll get your suitcases, then your room assignments. I see that most of you have already made friends, so if you find someone you want to share a room with, let me know. If not, you'll room with someone of my choosing for now, but you can always pick someone else later. Your comfort is my number-one priority."

The ladies ate and drank, chatted and got acquainted. About an hour later, when everyone seemed to have settled down and found a room-mate, I asked for two volunteers to help me with getting the luggage. Devon and Camille were quick to offer their services, so I took them to the main carport and the three of us hopped into the Jeep. Driving to the dock was much longer in distance than walking to it, but the amount of time was basically the same.

In a few minutes, Devon, Camille and I had the luggage loaded into the trailer that was attached to the Jeep, and we were on our way back up to the mansion. Once there, all of the girls pulled their suitcases off of the trailer and quickly headed for their respective rooms. Before they left, however, I reminded them that the big reception party was at 9:00pm tonight. Everyone had to attend. It was to happen two hours later than our standard time for dinner of 7:00pm each night. Once I made those two points perfectly clear to them, I decided to head off toward my own suite.


To the right of the anteroom was the master bedroom. My own personal haven, the domed ceiling detail above the bed incorporated 100 fiber optic stars which twinkled in the dark. The illusion was that a seven foot opening had been carved through the roof to reveal the evening sky. It had fooled the vast majority of those who had been here at night. They wondered why there was such a big hole in the roof. My youngest niece once asked if a meteorite had struck here!

With a single touch of the automated system, an eight foot wide screen slowly dropped from the ceiling directly in front of the bed. At the same time, the lights dimmed, any music playing ceased, and the bedroom was suddenly transformed into a nighttime theater. One had a choice of high-definition television or DVD playback for the big screen.

Across from the bed was a sitting area that was stepped up from the rest of the room. This large space included a desk on one side next to a window with a full view of the outdoors and, on the opposite side, a morning kitchen with a small refrigerator, sink, counter space and bar.

The master bath was to the left side of the anteroom. A whirlpool spa was positioned here to maximize the view of the scenic south beach in the distance. Sunk into a black granite surface, the tub offered side-by-side seating to enjoy the outdoor scenery or a DVD movie on the flat panel screen in the wall beside the bath. The ceiling overhead featured a painted tropical sky with its orange hue dabbed with wispy clouds. The floor was heated to alleviate any cold chills after stepping out of the spa.

But my destination at this moment in time was completely sealed from all other areas of the mansion. Its entrance was behind an ordinary wall panel within my private suite that gave no indication that it was hiding anything.

To access it, I had to punch in a detailed security code on the suite's LCD panel. Once doing so, the computer asked for voice verification. Then, after saying my name out loud, the wall opened and suddenly, the secret room was revealed.

Inside, I flipped a metal switch and the wall slid back to its former place. There were a large spread of television monitors, each of which surveyed different places both in and around the mansion. I had hidden cameras - large and small alike - scattered everywhere on the island. There was literally no place that one of my cameras would not pick up.

With all activities being recorded and archived into the computer (the lone exception being the housekeeper's private quarters), I could also re-live anything which took place over the next six weeks with just a couple of keystrokes. The cameras were linked to motion detectors (also hidden) and when activated, the screens instantly came to life.

Yes - I had built myself quite the voyeur room. With the help of a Hewlett Packard AlphaServer GS1280 (series 64) computer system and a large satellite dish next to the garden on the roof, I could see any part of the island at any time. That included, of course, my lovely female guests in their private moments. Over the next six weeks, this voyeur room would obviously be a favorite spot of mine.

For now, I decided to focus all of my attention onto the second guest suite - which Pamela and Amy were occupying. Pamela was seated at the circular table, casually reading a fashion magazine, while Amy was up and about, chatting away. Curious, I decided to turn the room's hidden microphone on. It was time for me to do some (innocent) eavesdropping. Hopefully, their debate about Lindsay and alcohol was over.

"I cannot believe that I have been up since three o'clock this morning," Amy commented, glancing at her wristwatch for a brief instant. "I tried to get some sleep on the flight from Cincinnati to Miami, but I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I could not fall asleep. I don't like airplanes."

Pamela smirked. "I know exactly what you mean. What time did your flight leave Cincinnati this morning?"

"5:30," Amy replied. "Five-freaking-thirty. Still, even at such an unholy hour, the airport was buzzing. It was busy. The plane touched down in Miami around 8:10 and then I boarded the connector to Lima at 8:45 just in time. I was worried about my luggage, but everything turned out okay. I worried the whole flight if my bags made it onto the plane. I can be obsessive-compulsive when it comes to my stuff."

"I slept on the flight from Baltimore to Miami myself," Pamela told her. "It left around 5:50 and landed at 8:25. It was the only sleep that I've had in awhile. Believe it or not, but I worked last night until four in the morning. I worked from five until four o'clock... 11 hours."

"You're a stripper, right?" Amy asked, to which Pamela nodded her head in affirmative. "Wow. You must be tired. Even with that little nap from Baltimore to Miami, you must be exhausted. Work 11 hours straight and then get on a plane. I could never do that and survive. I suppose that you are going to get a long, good night's rest tonight ... just like I know I will."

"I hate working Sunday nights," Pamela pouted. "I should have stayed home. Sunday is buy one lap dance get one free night ... I do twice the work I normally do, but make much less money. But I wanted to get one more night of work in before I left. I also wanted to say goodbye to my friends. They wanted to say goodbye to me, too."

"Do you actually like being a stripper?"

Pamela pursed her lips together and shrugged her shoulders. "Ehhhhh ... it has its ups and downs. The money is great and I get to set my own schedule, work my own hours. I have been working at the club for over 11 years, so I have seniority over all of the other girls. They all call me the mother hen of the place." Pamela took a deep breath and sighed. "When I started working there at age 19, though, I surely never thought that I would still be dancing at 30. It has been a really, really long ride; I have seen everything ... heard everything imaginable, over the years."

"Have any plans for when you decide to quit?"

"I am going to college, have been for awhile actually, and when I finally graduate I want to become a schoolteacher," Pamela answered. "I have loved working with and being around children all of my life. Unfortunately, though, I think the past 11 years working as an exotic dancer will come back to haunt me. No school would ever hire a former stripper ... but I am going to get that degree anyway. I promised myself. I also promised my sister and the rest of my family. Once I get my degree, no matter what, I will quit dancing for good."

"I never went to college myself," Amy offered. "At the moment, I am a Hooters girl." Pamela seemed intrigued by those words as Amy went on, "Yep ... I have been working for Hooters for the past two years as a bartender and waitress. I enjoy it. It's a good, fun atmosphere. I basically flirt with everyone that I come into contact with, and they flirt with me back. Management actually encourages it. It is in our employee handbook, believe it or not."

Pamela grinned leisurely. "I bet you look real good in a little Hooters top and those orange shorts ... don't you?"

Amy smiled as well, but chose not to respond directly. "You know, I think our jobs are very similar in certain ways. You a stripper, me a Hooters girl. Very similar."

"Oh? How so? Aside from the constant flirtation?"

"I think you, like me, would have to remember names and faces, and what everyone says. Customers, you know. I have so many regulars who come in and tell me their problems when I am working behind the bar ... whether it be life, dating, marriage, money, whatever. If I can remember their name and face, and whatever they say to me, I can pick right up with the conversation the next time they come in. A couple of days, a week ... sometimes even a month later. You would be amazed at the tips some of my customers leave for me when I am bartending. It is because I am so responsive to them."

"Oh yeah," Pamela agreed. "I remember everyone that I've given lap dances to. If I remember them and say something like, you were here a month ago and I danced for you three times, it makes them feel special. Everyone likes being remembered. It typically translates into more money and tipping for me as well. That is a big part of what I do. I make it a point to remember everyone that I dance for. I never, EVER forget a face. I would lose money if I did."

"Exactly," Amy declared. "That is why I say our jobs are similar in certain ways. The better our memories, the more money we make. I get a lot of tips from simply listening to others, lending a sympathetic ear. People like to talk about their problems. It makes them feel better. I am more than willing to stop and talk with a customer for five, maybe ten minutes - even if the restaurant is incredibly busy."

"Do you like that part of your job?"

"Yeah, I do," Amy answered. "I am really outgoing and will talk about anything with anyone. I don't mind listening to people talk about their problems. I like it, really, because I'm good at giving advice." She giggled and added, "Maybe one day I can have my own newspaper column. Doctor Amy ... the best source of advice for all of Cincinnati!"

"What do you think of this place thus far?" Pamela asked.

"The island is so beautiful!" Amy gushed. "I cannot wait to explore and find all the hidden places. Think we'll get to do that? How about we ask at dinner tonight? Want to?"

Pamela smiled softly and replied, "Sure, we can do that."

"Boy, I want to take a shower!" Amy exclaimed. "That long airline flight, from Cincinnati to Miami, then all the way to South America ... I need a shower, real bad. Want to take one? I saw a bunch of towels in the closet. There's some other stuff in there, too. Like some colored sheets, or something. Have any idea what they are?"

"Those are to dress in, like the natives," Pamela mused. "They are called pereos." Wow, I said inwardly. Pamela was sharp. I was surprised that Pamela knew what a pereo was - considering that she was a life-long resident of Maryland. Then again, I told myself, Pamela was a member of Mensa. That was, of course, the organization for those people with ridiculously high IQ ratings. Her mind, she once told me in a previous telephone discussion, was like a sponge. Pamela wanted to soak up all of the information about everything that she possibly could. Clearly, this woman was not your stereotypical exotic dancer. Not at all.

"Oh, neat," Amy responded. "Natives wear pereos? Maybe we should dress up in them? What do you think?"

Pamela thumbed through a few more pages of the magazine before setting it down on the table. "Maybe we can, later. First, we have to figure out how to put them on."

"Everything about this place - the island, the concept, Jeremy and all of the other girls - everything seems like a complete fairy tale to me. I ... I cannot believe that I am actually here, right now. I just cannot believe it. I ... I don't think I ever want to leave!"

"What do you mean?" Pamela wondered.

"This is what I have always dreamed of," Amy explained. "I've always wanted to go to someplace like Hawaii or the Bahamas. This island, from the little of it I've seen thus far, can stand up to either of those places. I have always wondered what it would be like in a multi-million dollar mansion. All of the other girls here are so beautiful, and so nice. Then there is Jeremy. I ... I'm just so excited! It's like all of my dreams are coming true at once!"

I should point out that this particular side of Amy was quite appealing to me. Unlike earlier, when she made the comments about wanting to get Lindsay drunk, Amy did not seem cold and abrasive at all. In fact, she seemed very likable.

Then again, I said to myself, the personality profiler on my computer predicted that Amy would be prone to extreme mood changes. Those mood changes, the program surmised, would not necessarily have to be triggered by a certain event, either. But most troubling of all, the software suggested - judging by her responses on the long questionnaire - Amy may very well suffer from Cyclothymic Personality Disorder. That, I am afraid, will be touched upon later in the story.

"Speaking of Jeremy," Pamela said, looking over at her new friend, "do you have any idea how one of us is going to get paid $500,000? The information packet I got said we were all going to be paid $100,000 each, except one. That one gets $500,000. Have any ideas on how we get that big money?"

Amy giggled and replied, "It will probably be the girl who gives him the best fuck." She laughed again, while Pamela looked at her with a surprised expression. It was obvious that Pamela did not expect Amy to use such brash language.

"What?" Amy snickered. "It's the truth. The packet made it very clear that we were going to be used as sex objects this summer." I frowned at those words, not agreeing with them in the slightest, as Amy kept talking, "The $500,000 prize will probably go to the girl who fucks him the best. In fact, I guarantee it. What else could it be?"

Pamela shook her head and laughed in mock disgust. "I do say, you're terrible, Amy!" She paused and added, "But then again, you may be correct. You probably are."

"No..." I moaned at those words, momentarily hurt by them. That was not going to be the case at all!

"I could use a half-million," Amy remarked. "All I know is that I am going to do EVERYTHING that Jeremy tells me. Obey, obey, obey. If Jeremy tells me to jump, I'll ask how high. If he tells me to suck, I'll take him balls-deep in my mouth." Those words created a sudden reaction within my body as Amy concluded, "Hopefully, I'll get that money."

"If I get the 500-K ... then great," Pamela told her. "But if I don't, I'll gladly take the $100,000 instead. I could use it toward tuition, and a new car. I really need one."

Amy made a face. "You're a stripper, girl. You probably made $200,000 last year alone. You need a new car?"

The 30-year-old laughed. "I've held onto the Pamelamobile for too long. It's time to finally let go. The Pamelamobile is actually a BMW. I have been looking into buying a brand new Lotus Elise. I think that they look really neat."

"I have a 1999 Saturn SL2," Amy said. "I would like to buy a new car myself, I guess. I am kind of partial to the 2014 Chevrolet Camaro. I like them. I could never afford one until coming to this island. You know, one decked out with lots and lots of goodies. But getting back to what I was saying, when we get the chance, let's ask Jeremy how we get the big money. He probably won't tell us, but maybe we can sneak it out of him. You know ... trick him."

Pamela shrugged her shoulders and countered, "Jeremy does not seem to be the type of person who can easily be tricked. I could be wrong, but I do not think so."

"I used to be able to trick and fool my ex-husband all of the time," Amy confided. "Until he finally smartened up."

"You were married?"

"Yes," Amy nodded. "His name was Eddie. He was black." Amy waited to see if Pamela would have any type of reaction to that little tidbit of information - positive, negative or neutral. What she got was no reaction. Pamela just sat there, waiting for Amy to talk more about her ex-husband.

"We were only married for three years," Amy finally added. "It was really all a big mistake. I never loved him enough."

"Then why did you marry him?" Pamela wondered. "Me ... IF I ever get married, I will be 100 percent, totally in love. I would never get married unless I felt that way. The same would have to apply for my husband-to-be and how he felt about me. Nothing less than 100 percent totally in love."

"I married him because the sex was great at first," Amy answered. "You know what they say - once you go black, you never go back. But even that grew old after awhile."

"I have never been with a black man, so I would not know," Pamela countered, leisurely twirling several strands of her long, free-flowing blonde hair between two fingers. "I have nothing against them, mind you. If the right man came along and it just so happened to be that he was black, I would not hesitate about being in a relationship with him."

Amy shook her head. "I cheated on Eddie with four guys in the first year of marriage." Pamela's eyelids skyrocketed as Amy went on, "I worked for a financial group back then in an office building. All four of the guys I cheated on Eddie with that first year, I knew from work. One was my boss."

"Nice way to get a raise, I suppose."

"No," Amy told her, defiant. "It wasn't about money or pay or anything. It was about the sex. I became addicted to my boss. I had to be with him every single day. I had to have his cock in my mouth or my pussy every single day. I could not live without it. His cock in my ass, too..."

Pamela burst into laughter. "Alrighty, then!" She must have been thinking the same thing I was - Amy was quite the promiscuous hellcat. She had clearly led quite the life thus far. After a couple of seconds, Pamela was able to quell her laughter and settle down. "What did your husband say after he found out about your ... addiction?"

Amy pouted. "Eddie kicked me out once he found out. I went to live on my own for awhile. Had to get an extra job at a supermarket, and worked there at night. I needed to make ends meet. But Eddie took me back after a few months. I was totally faithful to him for a year."

"Only a year?"

"Yeah," Amy frowned. "First it was this guy I met at the movie theater. We kind of ... got into his van ... and found a dark corner of the parking lot. That was only after I had given him a hand-job in the movie theater." Pamela looked intrigued. "Then it was my boss again. And his wife."

"HIS WIFE?" Pamela exclaimed.

"Both of them were much older than me," Amy fidgeted. "They were into some pretty kinky stuff, and it excited me. I cannot tell you how many three-somes I had with them. I remember times I would lie to Eddie and say I was going to visit my mom and dad, just so I could spend a couple of hours with Master Jack and Mistress Kim. They ... they did things to me that I did not even know were possible! I learned so many things from them ... so many things."

"What happened when Eddie found out this time?"

"He kicked me out again, and then divorced me," Amy sulked. "I went back to the supermarket. I had quit there when Eddie took me back the first time. Then my boss got into trouble with his boss, and was fired. I was let go from the financial group, too. I guess the company wanted to wash its hands of any sex scandal or whatever. It would have been bad for business. I then got my job at Hooters. My new boss there actually LIKED it that I was fired for basically being a nymphomaniac. So, because I could work however many hours I wanted, and made good tips, I quit the supermarket again. I make enough money as a waitress and bartender to survive on my own. I do not live the life of luxury, but I get by pretty much okay. I work really hard and am super-nice to all of the customers. That way, all of the tips keep piling in."

"Do you do anything with your new boss at Hooters since you said that he knows about your past transgressions? Maybe you go into his office, and he bends you over the desk for a good five or ten minutes?"

"Surprisingly, no. He seems to be happily married and committed to his wife. Trust me, I've tried."

Pamela smirked. "Master Jack and Mistress Kim? You're into that bondage stuff, huh? I have a friend like you."

Amy nodded. "I'm into it both ways. I can be dominant or submissive. Either way, I feel comfortable." She sighed and shook her head. "When I cheated on Eddie, I was a lot younger. I was a different person in those days. I ... I ... none of that should have ever happened."

"You regret the way things turned out, huh?"

Amy took a deep breath. "I look back on it now and feel guilty because I lied to him, and cheated on him, for such a long time. But truth be told, I should have never married Eddie in the first place. It was a mistake. I did not love him enough. Nor was I ready to settle down like that." Amy rubbed her eyes with two fists and sighed. "What about you, Pam? Have you ever been married? Or come close?"

"Pamela," she corrected her. "Please ... Pamela, not Pam. No to both. Never been married, never been close."

"Do you want to get married?"

The blonde nodded her head. "Oh yes. I just have yet to find the right man. If I get married, though, there will be no turning back. It will be forever. Trust me on that."

"It must be difficult to maintain a relationship with the type of job that you have," Amy remarked, sounding tentative. She did not want to step on any toes with her comments.

Pamela laughed. "Being a stripper? It can be, yes. It is one of the reasons why I haven't been on a date in eight months. I find it difficult to trust guys because of what I am forced to go through each and every night that I work. I am continually exposed to the lesser, vulgar side of men. It has tended to grow and wear on me after all these years. Honestly, I find it incredibly difficult to trust any man. It is so sad what this job has done to me."

"I never thought about being a stripper," Amy mused. "But I bet you that if I was a stripper, I'd be one of the girls who actually enjoyed it. And I would be good at it. At least ... I think I would be good at it."

"It's not too early to get started," Pamela advised her. "You are the same age as me, and I am still going strong." She paused briefly, then continued, "Master Jack and Mistress Kim? Do you still see them? Still get together?"

Amy frowned and even seemed to hold back tears for an instant or two. "Mistress really started to get jealous, I think. Master was spending a lot of time with me. I mean, I would be underneath his desk each morning before he was even in the office. I'd spend my entire lunch breaks with him. Mistress told me one day that I was nothing more an object to them, a plaything and sex toy, and I had run my course. I was to leave and never come back. This was after we had lost our jobs for getting caught. I tried talking to Master, but he said he didn't want to risk his marriage for a piece of pussy that he knew would cheat on him eventually anyway."

Pamela was taken aback. "That's ... harsh."

"Yeah," Amy murmured. "Thing is, though, I'd have never cheated on him. It would have been one-on-one all the way if I had my say. I never felt so strongly for someone as I did him. And the crazy thing? He is 68 years old now. I'm 30."

"I dated a guy who was 54 when I was 19," Pamela offered. "It didn't last long, though."

"Older men can be the most amazing lovers," Amy swooned. "I dated a 55-year-old when I was only 17."

Pamela placed both hands on the small, circular table in front of her, then stood up. "Well ... I need a shower."

"I was going to take one, but you take yours first," Amy told her. "I'll stay out here and unpack my suitcases."

"Are you sure?" Pamela confirmed. "I almost forgot that you wanted to take a shower, too."

"Go ahead," Amy insisted. "I still have a lot more work to do with my suitcases. Go ahead ... and take your time." Amy nodded her head and added a bright smile for emphasis. "I will stay busy out here, trust me. So much to do!"

Pamela made a motion to grab a pair of towels from the nearby bed, but Amy stepped forward and offered her a kiss on the cheek instead. Pamela hesitated for a moment, then tilted her head and looked at Amy. "What was that for?"

"I'm just glad that we are room-mates, and friends." Indeed, the Amy that I was witnessing right now seemed worlds different than the one who made all those crude remarks concerning Lindsay a short time ago. I liked her.

Pamela smiled. "I'm glad we're friends too, Amy." She grabbed her towels, then smiled again. "I have an idea."

"What?"

"Let's both take a shower together."

Amy's green eyes swelled with interest. "Really?"

"Why not?" Pamela asked, already beginning to unbutton her blouse. It was silky-white and made of sheer lace, and showed her bra straps through its ultra-thin fabric. This woman was loaded! A chance of seeing those bare breasts of hers made my cock instantly spring alive.

"Yeah ... why not," Amy agreed. "You and me are gonna be room-mates all summer long."

Pamela simply slipped her blouse from her shoulders, then opened her jeans. This woman was obviously a stripper. She had absolutely no qualms about getting naked in front of Amy. "This will happen eventually anyway. Might as well get acquainted sooner than later, you know."

"Good point. Wait for me!" Amy slipped her t-shirt over her head, and pulled her shorts down.

Pamela was now in her sexy bra and tiny G-string, but not for long. She reached back and unhooked her bra, which allowed her large, overflowing breasts to spill out into open view. Now I definitely had an erection. She was gorgeous!

Once the bra joined her blouse and jeans on the floor, Pamela hooked her thumbs into the G-string and guided it down her shapely hips and thighs. She lifted each leg gracefully to step out of her G-string, then stood up at full height, completely nude, her immaculate blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and across her luscious breasts. Pamela swept it back with a quick motion of her right hand.

"Wow, you're beautiful," Amy said, full of awe.

"Thank you," Pamela smiled in response.

"I wish there were more bi girls who looked like you." Next, Amy returned her attention to undressing before looking at her room-mate once again. "Would you unhook my bra?"

Pamela stepped around to Amy's back and undid all four hooks, allowing the red-head's fabulous breasts to pour out. Amy immediately rubbed them and complained, "I hate wearing bras. They're so tight. Look at the impression that stupid thing left on my skin." Amy continued to massage her own breasts, before giving Pamela another lustful glance while stepping out of her little bikini panties.

"I wonder if Jeremy will like the way we look?" Pamela speculated. "Hopefully he will."

"If Jeremy is a real man, he will," Amy replied.

Both ladies giggled as the 30-year-old grabbed some towels and followed Pamela toward the entrance to their personal washroom. As could be expected, both of them were impressed with what they saw once entering the washroom. There were the usual amenities, along with a wall-length mirror, a green marble sink which had seashells and fish designs carved into it, and a huge floor rug with two dolphins adorning it. I thought little touches like this added to the island theme.

There was the luxurious whirlpool as well, but the only place on Pamela and Amy's collective minds right now was the spacious shower stall. And why not?

Large enough to comfortably fit five people (if not more), the shower itself came complete with programmable body jets, a cascading waterfall for the neck and shoulders, hot, cleansing steam and a pair of fully adjustable shower-heads and foamers. There was even a MP3/iPod player included in the shower itself, though I am certain that neither Pamela or Amy had caught onto that just yet. Maybe I would personally get to show it to them one day? I sure hope so.

All of the guest bedrooms and restrooms were replicas of each other, so the other ladies had the same luxuries that Pamela and Amy did. Everything was exactly the same.

Inside my voyeur room, I glanced at another monitor and noticed that in guest suite one, Devon and Camille were having similar ideas. It looked as if Devon was preparing to get ready for a shower, while Camille was relaxing on her bed with a wet towel over her face. Everyone was spent after their long airline flights from North America.

My interest level perked up once Pamela and Amy came into view on the monitor which surveyed their shower stall. They fiddled around with the intricate controls for awhile, then smiled as warm, soothing water sprayed from the dual shower heads. Pamela and Amy stood underneath the relaxing stream, quickly soaping themselves from head to toe with the foamers.

Pamela caressed her breasts gently with lathered hands, squeezing her nipples and rubbing them briefly before venturing downward toward the cleft between her thighs. Her movements were slow and sensuous as she applied the soap in a lush, thick lather. Then she slid her hand between her thighs once again and lovingly caressed herself.

I zoomed in and watched intently as Pamela ran her finger back-and-forth along the slit of her pussy. Zooming out, I noticed Pamela sighing as she held her face directly in line with the spray. Her rounded hips swayed in a gentle motion and her nipples stood even more erect than before.

Underneath the secondary shower nozzle, Amy had rubbed and soaped her own breasts into a creamy lather. She watched Pamela, but tried her best not to be obvious about it. Amy turned toward the spray of water and let it pour over her breasts, rinsing off the thick soap, while her right hand slipped between her thighs and began frigging her pussy with an ever-increasing rhythm. She then rubbed her own nipples with her left hand until they became even more rigid.

Amy looked over at Pamela and watched with a mixture of lust and fascination as the blonde's hip movements were more rapid than before. Amy then increased her own motion with her right hand, massaging her silken pussy faster.

Pamela's breathing was coming in raspy sounds as her face appeared flushed. Her hand went deeper between her tanned thighs, which were now spread further apart. Her long, slender middle finger disappeared into the pink crevice while the ridge of her thumb kept rubbing her little nub of a clitoris that was set to trigger an explosion.

Pamela's left hand reached for her pussy and massaged her clitoris more vigorously. It was obvious that the tension rose within her, and soon she let out an audible moan which resulted in her body shaking with pleasing, orgasmic lust.

Next to her, Amy was building to the point of release as well. Her hand reached for her slit and she jammed three fingers as far and as deep as they would go into herself. She let go of her breasts with her other hand and used it to massage her engorged clitoris. Amy then squealed with hot passion as she too, experienced a self-induced climax.

I watched in shocked silence - my shaft hard as a rock - as the pair of heavenly beauties shivered and vibrated in the aftermath of orgasm underneath the dual shower heads.

Once those sensations of arousal settled down, Pamela strolled over to her new girlfriend and embraced her from behind, cupping Amy's large breasts with both hands in the process. "Wow sweetheart ... I really needed that." She giggled and shyly added, "This is the first time that I have ever taken a shower with another girl."

The red-head giggled and placed her hands onto Pamela's. "I needed it too, honey." The two stayed together for a couple of seconds, grinding their bodies as one, as I spied on them while rubbing the enormous bulge within my shorts. I was so aroused from watching their masturbation display that I felt as if my body would just spontaneously combust!

Amy's next move was to turn her head around and place her mouth across Pamela's for a truly deep-rooted kiss. The pair of gorgeous ladies moaned and shivered together, while my erection grew so much that it actually ached. This voyeur room would most definitely be a favorite spot of mine over the course of the following six weeks!

I moaned like a madman and watched with interested eyes as their kiss continued. Pamela and Amy were now exchanging tongues between their open-mouthed kiss. I zoomed in for a closer look with the hidden camera, which did nothing but cause my cock to finally reach its fully erect status.

"I would never cheat on you, either," Amy murmured.

"I wouldn't let you," Pamela sighed in response.

"Wash my hair for me tonight?" Amy asked with a friendly smile, now facing away from Pamela and adjusting the wall lever just a tad. Amy settled on a warm/hot temperature, then let the steamy water engulf her voluptuous body as she stepped into the proverbial line of fire.

Pamela was already squeezing shampoo from a bottle and onto her hand as she smiled at Amy from behind. An instant later, Amy dutifully dropped to her knees and looked over her bare shoulder at Pamela with an expression full of pure gratitude across her lovely, enchanting face.

Amy's red hair was already completely soaked, so Pamela wasted no time as she placed both hands onto her new lover's head and began to lather her up with the shampoo. My cock was throbbing uncontrollably as this highly erotic scene continued to unfold before me. Amy's silky hair was not quite that long - only slightly more than shoulder-length - but Pamela took her sweet time anyway.

Amy let the shampoo sit in her hair as she then told Pamela to kneel in front of her. The exotic dancer did just that, then giggled as Amy began to lather up her own hair as well. Pamela's blonde hair was much longer than Amy's, so there was a tremendous amount of time and effort required to shampoo and lather it up. Amy, of course, was in no rush. She seemed to genuinely enjoy doing this for Pamela.

"Ever have anyone help wash your hair before?"

"Yes, but it has been a LONG time," Pamela responded, her face beaming. "Not since high school ... an old boyfriend."

"I could do this ALL night long," Amy purred, biting her lower lip, as her hands and fingers continued to massage (and lather) Pamela's scalp. "I think this is so incredibly hot."

"I think YOU are incredibly hot," Pamela moaned.

Moments later, both ladies were giggling and standing underneath the heavy stream of shower water from above. They were sharing the water, and letting it rinse the thick shampoo from their hair, and down their luscious bodies.

I sighed as a short time later, Pamela and Amy were busy soaping each other's bodies up with the hand-held foamer and sponges. Pamela seemed to pay close attention to Amy's large breasts, fondling and squeezing the firm mounds. Amy reciprocated by placing a soapy sponge between Pamela's thighs, and massaging her nether regions rather thoroughly.

Amy sighed as Pamela brought a knee up between her thighs. Amy seemed to straddle that knee and allow it to stimulate her pussy as she sought Pamela's mouth with her own. Once finding it, the two ladies shared yet another loving kiss.

"Will you let me?" Amy asked once their lips parted, her voice sultry, as her eyes shifted downward for an instant.

"Let you what?"

This time, Amy lowered her gaze and held it at that level for several seconds. "I want to lick your pussy," were her words. "I want to lick your sweet, little pussy ... and make you EXPLODE in orgasm right here in the shower."

Pamela's body squirmed about in an obvious rush of heated anticipation as she offered Amy a gracious smile. "Really?" When Amy nodded her head, Pamela stepped away from her and then leaned back against the side wall of the shower stall. As Amy dropped to her knees, Pamela spread her trim thighs, allowing the red-head full access to her womanly treasure.

"Hmmmmm..." was the initial sound that Pamela made once Amy's hot tongue came into contact with her precious pussy. Amy placed one hand on Pamela's left leg, with the other clutching her ass, as she let her tongue do all of the work. Pamela, of course, was quite appreciative of the oral favor. "God, Amy," she squealed, reaching up with both hands and massaging her own breasts. "Hmmmmm ... that feels good."

Standing sort of bow-legged in the shower stall, with Amy on both knees directly in front of her, Pamela let out her loudest groan yet and then tilted the back of her head against the wall behind her. By now, Amy was thrusting a single finger in-and-out of Pamela's luscious folds while her tongue continued with its all-out, ravenous assault.

Pamela's audible noises and squeals of passion became even more resounding once Amy added a second finger to the mix, her tongue still continually swirling itself over and across Pamela's tender pussy. I simply could not believe my eyes!

Both Pamela and Amy could easily pose as pin-up centerfold models if given the opportunity. They were that beautiful. I had become so overly aroused while eavesdropping on these two ladies as they took a dual shower that I was about to lose my mind. This was not one of the many adult movies that I had watched throughout the years to amuse myself. No ... this was real! Even better, it was taking place on my private island - in my very own home. Unbelievable!

"OH MY GOD!" Pamela whined out in pure ecstasy, her body bucking and churning about within the shower stall. It was obvious that Amy was intent on bringing Pamela to an orgasm. It was probably the only thing that mattered to her at this point in time. Shortly thereafter, Amy's concentration on Pamela's little clitoris was finally rewarded with a climax.

With Amy's face still firmly nestled between her thighs, Pamela rocked and gyrated her pelvis about in erotic delight as she went through the joyous progression of orgasm. Like the hungry nymphomaniac that she claimed to be, Amy eagerly lapped up all of the delicious juice and nectar that oozed from Pamela's pussy as a result of her mind-blowing orgasm. She did not stop, in fact, until that pussy was licked clean.

When Amy finally withdrew her face from the joining of Pamela's thighs, the 30-year-old enchantress from Maryland had a dreamy look on her face. As a show of appreciation, Pamela then knelt downward and shared a slow-moving kiss with Amy. Best of all, it had a lot of tongue action included.

"Hmmmmm ... I needed that SO bad," Pamela commented once their kiss had reached its conclusion. "You do not know how long it has been since someone made me feel so good inside."

Amy smiled at those words, then pecked Pamela's lips with another kiss. "It was my pleasure, honey. My pleasure..."

Pamela suddenly giggled. "All we need now is a man!"

"Yeah," Amy agreed. "Where is Jeremy when we need him? I wonder if he could satisfy both of us at the same time?"

"Oh God..." I moaned, as those wicked words caused my cock to erupt within my shorts. My whole body trembled with lust as I squirmed about in the chair, surprised that mere words could cause an explosion like this within me. Of course, the red-hot encounter that preceded those words helped, too.

Taking a deep breath, I rose up from the chair and exited the voyeur room. I hated to miss any of the live, spicy action, but knew that my cameras were always on the lookout and would dutifully record any movements for me. I needed to wash up and prepare for the official reception party which would take place in the dining room later tonight.


All of the ladies showed up that evening at the right time - 9:00pm. The buffet table was set up with the dishes that had been prepared by Louisa, the elderly woman whom I considered to be the world's best cook/housekeeper. Never once had the 76-year-old fixed a meal which I did not like, or fully appreciate. Tonight would be no exception.

In addition to fruit juices of all varieties, other beverages, such as bottled water, coffee and iced tea were available as well. My goal was to keep the reception as informal and as friendly as possible. Tomorrow, I figured, my plans for the upcoming six weeks would actually begin.

For this evening, I chose to mingle with and meet all of the girls, trying not to give any impression of favoritism. Right now, though, I found myself feeling attracted most to Pamela, the exotic dancer from Maryland with the long blonde hair and loaded, top-deck figure.

Not only was she very exquisite to look at, but there was something in the way that Pamela carried herself which was just as enticing. Despite the fact that she was a stripper which, of course, brought a horrible (and unfair) stereotype with it, Pamela seemed to be the type of woman that I should get to know on a much deeper and more personal level.

When I approached her, Amy was at her side.

"Are you two beautiful ladies enjoying yourselves?" I asked, trying to be friendly and casual, the sight of them quivering together in the shower still fresh in my mind. Not only had I watched it live, but I went back and replayed the footage two more times after my own shower earlier as well. Oh ... the look on Pamela's face when Amy was tonguing her.

Amy jumped in before Pamela could even attempt to answer. "Oh, yes. This island is so wonderful. And the food is absolutely delicious. Can we eat all we want?"

"Of course. You can eat all you want, and ANYTHING you want." I put more emphasis on the anything to see if there would be a reaction. Pamela smiled and giggled as she caught the double meaning, but Amy just kept talking away.

"Oh, okay. I just didn't want to mess up my chance at the big prize - the 500 grand in cash. I mean, I don't know the rules or anything, so I thought I'd ask. It is okay to ask, isn't it? Or should I back off?"

Twirling her silky red hair around an extended finger and batting her eyelashes, Amy was really laying on the sweetness now. She was trying to seduce the answer out of me. Little did Amy know that due to my eavesdropping on the conversation that she had with Pamela earlier, however, I was prepared for it. Amy was not about to trick me tonight.

"You may ask me anything you want," I answered.

"I bet there are lots of rules, aren't there?"

I nodded my head. "A few rules, actually. We will go over everything in the morning before breakfast. Right now, I think it is best that all of us simply enjoy the evening. All of you certainly did have a long trip to get here today."

"You can say that again!" Amy huffed in an exaggerated fashion. "During the last few hours of the flight from Miami to Peru, I felt as if my ears were going to pop! Add in the flight from Cincinnati... 3,700 miles! I had never been in an airplane for so long before."

"You don't have to worry about getting back on a plane for six whole weeks," I advised her, smiling leisurely. "By that time, you will be a lot richer than you are now. You know ... either $100,000 ... or $500,000. We shall see. That should definitely make the trip back home a lot less taxing for you."

"How will you determine who gets the big money?"

"That, my dear Amy, I cannot answer. Not now, at least."

"I knew it!" Amy complained, even stomping her foot. She was obviously an expert at seduction and manipulation. "But I wish I knew what the guidelines for getting it were. I mean, a girl does have certain needs, but I would not want to break any of your rules and ruin my chances."

"Needs?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.

"You know," she said. "Different things. Like how a girl feels, what she wants. Needs."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not sure I do."

"I don't need to talk about it in front of everybody," Amy fretted. "But if I asked you in private ... would that be okay? Could I do that? Please?"

"You can ask me anything, at any time, any place. My door is always open for you and the others. Just knock."

"Oh, good! I'll be sure to remember that."

I would be remiss if I did not mention the fact that although all of the ladies were dressed in casual attire, one of them stood out more than any other due to her very provocative choice of clothing. Perhaps she chose to come to the official reception this way because she enjoyed shocking others. Obviously, this woman craved being at the center of things. Some could even argue that it was a loud cry for attention. Whatever the case, it should not come as any great surprise that the person stirring the proverbial pot of controversy with her attire was none other than Amy.

It was not because Amy had on a skimpy tank-top, or the tightest pair of denim shorts that I had ever seen on a woman. Rather, it was because of what was printed on the front of her tank-top. In big, bold letters, stretching out across Amy's massive breasts, was the term Filthy WHORE. Beneath it, in much smaller text, read Sin For Sale.

Where Amy got this tank-top, with its hot, shocking inscriptions, was beyond me. I did not even realize that a clothing company would ever create something such as this. Regardless, it seemed to go with Amy's character perfectly. She wanted others to look at her, and think of her, this way. She most definitely wanted to be noticed. That was obvious. It was a loud cry for attention, indeed. One could even surmise that it was a very disturbing one, too.

With Amy literally busting out all over the place, one could easily assume that all eyes locked onto her whenever she chose to wear this little, form-fitting tank-top out in public. She had caused quite the stir among all of the ladies here on the island with it (as well as me, obviously). Who else but Amy? It made sense to me. Filthy WHORE, Sin For Sale. Indeed, who else but Amy?...

"You have a beautiful home."

And you are a beautiful woman, Pamela, I said to myself. "Thank you, dear. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome."

Although no one could find any fault if I were to stay here and converse with the charming Pamela from now until the end of eternity, while gawking at Amy's eye-popping chest at the same time (as well as Pamela's, for that matter), I felt it was to move onto another two-some. I certainly did not want any of the ladies to believe that I had a favorite. Not yet, anyway.

I looked around and murmured, "I must be going now, before the other ladies start to think I'm playing favorites. Both of you, Pamela and Amy ... enjoy the party."

Devon and Camille were huddled together and engaged in a lively conversation, but both offered me a friendly smile once I made my way up to them. I did the same, but added a second grin for Devon. A well-stacked blonde herself, Devon had a small American flag on full display - its stick was embedded in her cleavage, and the actual flag was flowing out from her camisole top. She was proud to be an American! Who could blame her for such a wonderful thing?

"Has the island been kind to the two of you thus far?" I asked them, wanting to sound as friendly as possible.

"It's been great!" Devon chirped in response, her blue eyes sparkling. "I just cannot wait to get out and explore this place tomorrow. I bet the beaches are beautiful."

"They sure did look beautiful in those pictures that I got in the mail," Camille offered. "I cannot wait to see them with my own two eyes, either. You did say, Jeremy, that you would take us on a hike of the island tomorrow."

"I most definitely did. And, I will."

Camille took a sip of her hot, steaming coffee, then flashed me a winning smile. This mocha-skinned beauty of Spanish and Asian descent was the type of woman who had been inhabiting my dreams and fantasies for as long as I could remember. "Everyone seems to be complaining about what a long airline flight it was from the states," she commented. "But I had the longest flight of all - from San Diego to Los Angeles, all the way over to Miami, and then back in the same general direction to Peru. I wound up flying 12 hours when it could have just been six! It'd been so much easier to just go from San Diego to Peru. A whole, lot less jet-lag for me too, you know."

I nodded at her. "I understand that, Camille. But I wanted you to be on the flight from Miami to Lima with all of the other girls so you could talk and develop friendships before even stepping foot on the island. You are the only girl who came from the west. The others all reside in the east - Devon lives in Pennsylvania, Pamela is from Maryland, Trish in Ontario, and Lindsay and Amy are from Cincinnati." Cincinnati, in fact, is my original hometown as well. It did play its role in Lindsay and Amy being here right now.

I paused for a brief moment before continuing, "I did make it worthwhile, though, Camille. I paid for you to have a three day vacation in Miami in-between flights, with a quick trip to the Florida Keys. You said you have family there."

"Oh ... I'm not complaining or griping about it," the 25-year-old assured me. "I had a good time in Miami. And I definitely thank you for paying all of my expenses. It is just that mostly everyone is complaining about the long airline flights they had. Mine was twice as long as theirs! But you did make the strange journey worth my while. I got to visit my cousin Maria for the first time in 15 years. I used to visit her all of the time when she lived in La Joya."

"So everything worked out well," I nodded.

"Yes, it did," she agreed.

"Where exactly is La Joya?" Devon asked Camille. "I have heard of that town before, though I do not remember when."

"Across the border from San Diego, in Mexico," she said. "Cousin Maria lived there until her family upped and moved away to the Florida Keys. That was 15 years ago."

"It must have been something to see her again," Devon remarked. "Is she the same age as you?"

"Two years younger. I'm 25. Maria is 23."

"Most of my inner and outer family is in Pennsylvania," Devon offered. "I never have to travel far to see them. Problem is, I'm not particularly close with any of them. Well, except my sister and my grandparents. I am close with them. My sister, Patricia ... she is happily married, and has the two most adorable children. I am always willing to baby-sit for them whenever the need arises! Hey ... how do you like it in California? I've never been there."

"Where I live - San Diego - it is beautiful," Camille answered. "Actually, I live in Chula Vista. It is a suburb of San Diego. I was born in Mexico, but my family came to the United States when I was three years old."

"I spent four years in and around the Los Angeles area," I said, tossing my two cents into the conversation. "Others say differently, but I never really liked it there. I lived in Los Angeles from the ages of 18 to 22. Actually, I lived in Long Beach and Lakewood. Technically speaking, I still have a home there, I suppose - in Rachos Palos Verdes - but my father and his girlfriend stay there. The house is in my name only for legal purposes. But, as I said, I never liked it in California. The only reason I have to return there today is to visit my father."

"You haven't lived in California since you were age 22?" Camille clarified. "How old are you now?"

"39." Yes ... I was plenty older than all of my guests.

"There is a running feud between people from San Diego and Los Angeles," Camille smirked. "I cannot say anything good about Los Angeles. I don't like it there much myself. I prefer San Diego a million times more. It's home to me."

"What can we expect over the next six weeks?" Devon said to me, her head tilted in an inquisitive manner. "I mean, are you going to ask us to do anything shocking?"

I reached out and gently brushed Devon's American flag with a fingertip, while also smiling at her. "Whatever you or any of the others do, dear, will be up to you. I won't ask or force any of you to do something that makes you feel one bit uncomfortable. Remember, your comfort is my goal. I want you and the others to have the time of your lives. The only chance I have of that happening is if you and all of your fellow ladies are 100 percent comfortable here. It is my job to make sure that happens. It is my only job."

In a move that surprised me, Devon smiled and leaned upward, then planted a gentle, whispery kiss upon my face. I even felt myself flush red with embarrassment as Devon then looked at me, her expression vibrant and cheerful.

"What was that for?" I managed to get out, holding the side of my face with an open palm. I was stunned!

Devon grinned and responded, "That was the first kiss of many between us, hopefully." Camille cooed at those words, as did Pamela and Amy (both of whom were close by), while I tried to make sense of this. Both hands clutched together at her waist, Devon simply continued to look at me and grin.

Still feeling a bit flustered, I managed to put forth a smile while telling Devon and Camille, "I better get going. As I told Pamela and Amy, I don't want to show favoritism. I should go over and talk to Lindsay and Trish. They seem to be sampling all of the fruit punches at the drink table."

"Is it okay if any of us show favoritism?" Devon asked, those pretty eyes gleaming as she studied me from head to toe. "I already know who MY favorite is."

Just like that, Devon replaced Pamela as my favorite. Of course, I figured that I would switch back-and-forth between several (if not all) of the ladies before finally deciding on the one I liked the most. It could take the whole six weeks. Perhaps it could even take longer than six weeks, too...

But for now, my favorite was the blonde and very petite Devon. I appreciated a woman who was open, honest and very straightforward about her feelings (but not to the point of being potentially hurtful, as Amy was earlier when discussing the possibility of getting Lindsay drunk). In fact, I do not think there are enough honest people in the world today.

"You can do whatever you want," I said to Devon, before turning and slowly walking away.

"But you don't understand," Lindsay spoke to Trish in a hushed tone, as I approached them from behind. "It's not that I've never been with another girl. I've never been with anyone before - boy or girl - period. I'm a virgin..."

"You're a VIRGIN?" Trish exclaimed, although she kept her voice low so the others (presumably) would not hear her.

Unfortunately for the two ladies, however, I was standing directly behind them. Trish turned and looked at me, then brought a hand to her mouth and sighed. Meanwhile, Lindsay was shell-shocked. Was the fact that she was still a virgin supposed to be kept a secret? It sure did appear that way...

Trying to calm the sudden rush of anxiety that was here, I patted my right ear with an open hand several times. "What did you say? I've been having problems with my ears lately. There are certain instances when I just cannot hear a thing. My ears just go blank ... sort of like my mind sometimes."

Lindsay seemed to appreciate my response, but continued to pout anyway. "Please don't tell the others, Jeremy. I beg of you ... PLEASE! It's a personal and private thing. I was only telling Trish here because she has been the nicest of anyone to me thus far, and she is my room-mate."

I smiled at her. "I said I've been having problems with my ears. I didn't hear anything. I cannot tell the others something that I did not hear. So your secret is safe. You never have to worry about me exposing a secret."

Lindsay suddenly looked relieved. "Thank you." Really, though? Lindsay was a virgin? Wow.

"You are very welcome."

It should come as no great surprise that Lindsay was an early favorite of mine as well. It was easy to understand why just by looking at her. The 18-year-old appeared to be nothing more than a delicious, tempting little girl every single time that I laid my eyes on her thus far today. Her pristine, long-flowing blonde hair tied into a bushy pony-tail was enough to drive any man insane by itself. Her hair was so shiny and immaculate; it glowed in the moonlight.

But there was plenty more - her wholesome, sweet-cheeks face and her sexy mouth enhanced with its pink, glossy lips. Lindsay had a smile which could make my heart flutter. Of course, one could never forget that lithe, slender figure of hers, either. At 5-foot-3 and 95 pounds, it seemed as if Lindsay belonged on a homecoming float somewhere right now. She surely did not belong in a hedonistic haven such as this island. On the other hand, though, I was glad she was here. I was not complaining about her presence at all.

Lindsay's innocent, religious schoolgirl demeanor was what got me most about her, though. One could easily tell that she had spent a secluded life growing up in a small rural town. But now, Lindsay wanted to spread her wings, so to speak, and explore new avenues in her life. Discounting the $100,000 in guaranteed earnings, it was her likely reason for coming to the island. No one could blame her for that.

The little sweetheart received extra points, at least in my book, for still being a virgin. Devon was my current favorite, yes, but Lindsay was nipping at her heels. Pamela had fallen a little behind, but I had a sneaking suspicion that she would find herself back in the running very soon. Obviously, the same could be said for Amy. I was certainly not going to discount Trish or Camille, either.

"How are the two of you enjoying your time thus far on the island?" I asked both Trish and Lindsay.

"This place is beautiful," Trish responded. "I know I sound like all the others, but it's the truth. This is way better than I ever imagined it would be. They definitely do do not have any places like this in Canada. At least, not any place that I have visited - or ever heard of."

I nodded my head and smiled. "Wait until our nature hike tomorrow. You will be awestruck ... trust me."

Speaking of being awestruck, that was personally how I felt right now. I was such a lucky man to have been able to surround myself with this group of lovely women. Never in my life had I witnessed such a collection of beauty assembled together in just one place. This was incredible for me!

"You own this island, right?" Lindsay said to me. "If you do not mind my asking, Jeremy, how much did all of this cost you? I mean, not only the island, but the house, too. And everything outdoors - the pool, the garden, the stables. You must have spent a fortune on this place!"

"Many millions of dollars, I'd bet, eh?" Trish speculated.

"I'd rather not get into specifics about myself right now," I told them. "In due time, though, all of you will know most everything about me. I am a very open and honest person. I just do not believe that now is the time or place for it."

Suddenly, I noticed that Lindsay was wearing a wristband. But not just any wristband, or the one I had instructed her to wear around her elbow on the flight from North America. This wristband had the phrase What would Jesus do? printed on it. Clearly, Lindsay was a very religious girl.

"Nice wristband."

Lindsay smiled at me, then raised her right hand and pointed at its wrist with her left. "Oh ... this. Faith is a very big part of my life. I am a believer that the only way to God is through Jesus. I've always believed that." She smiled again, in the shyest, cutest manner, and added, "Maybe you can tell I'm the daughter of a minister."

"I am not very religious myself," I admitted. "I have been to church a few times, but that is it."

"You should become more interested and get involved with the church," Lindsay urged me. "God has helped me through many of the problems that I have faced in my own life. If you devote yourself to Him, Jeremy, He would help you too. Any problems that you have, God would guide you through. He has been my strength and inspiration for all of my life. God has always been there in my time of need. He would do the same for you, Jeremy, if you opened your soul to Him."

That was a good mindset to have, I said inwardly. There is nothing wrong in believing in and drawing strength from a higher power. But I had so many problems in my life that even God himself would not know where to begin.


After two hours of meeting and mingling, I called for everyone's attention. "Ladies. This has been a delightful evening, but I know you are all very tired from your long airline flights and wish to rest. Sleep late tomorrow if you like. We'll get together for awhile at ten o'clock and then the afternoon is all yours to enjoy the island. Remember, my personal suite is on the other side of the mansion from where all of your rooms are. If you have any questions, concerns, suggestions, whatever ... feel free to knock at any time. I will do whatever I can to adhere to your requests and wishes. Your comfort is my goal. Good night, and sleep well."

The girls began to drift off to their own rooms while I cleaned up and cleared the dining room. The whole job took less than ten minutes. One could say that I did have a live-in housekeeper to do this job for me, but Louisa was a senior citizen and I felt as if I asked too much of her as it was. So, I was more than happy to help with the clean-up. I also did my fair share of daily chores around here, too.

Next, I went to my private suite and locked the door, then opened the secret panel to the voyeur room and scanned the television monitors. All of the guest suites showed up with some of the ladies in various stages of undress, getting ready for bed. Remembering what had transpired earlier today between Pamela and Amy, I immediately got hard once again.

For the time being, I decided to focus my attention on Devon, who was sharing the first guest suite with Camille. Judging from her words, the 27-year-old from Pennsylvania had a definite crush on me. It was wonderful that Devon felt this way about me, but I had one question: Why?

Obviously not afraid to speak her mind, Devon was very outgoing and amicable, and her warm nature complemented her striking looks. Her physical appearance by itself simply demanded one's attention. Was there any man alive who could resist a woman as sultry and as beautiful as Devon? What normal man hasn't dreamed of an overly shapely blonde with a small, rail-thin waist, with the face of an angel to boot?

But since Devon was someone who could easily have her choice of any man, I wondered to myself why she had taken such a sudden interest in me. Of course, not only was this her first day on the island, but Devon and I had yet to sit down and thoroughly introduce ourselves to one another. It was not all that often when a dazzling, radiant woman such as Devon made a pass at me right out of the gate - even before knowing me. In fact, this was the first time ever.

I hardly considered myself some type of Casanova, or a very desirable man. I was really just your normal, typical guy. There were both good and bad things about me, but nothing stood out either way. That is an honest-to-goodness assessment of myself. Devon, however, could have her choice of any man. Why did I interest her so much at this very early stage of our relationship?

I contemplated several reasons in my mind, but none of them seemed to make any sense. Meanwhile, I kept an eye on Devon with the help of my hidden surveillance cameras. She was on the edge of the bed, wearing an oversized night-shirt, while Camille sorted through her suitcases just a few feet away. Curious, I flipped the microphone for their room on.

"What's it like in Pennsylvania?" Camille asked.

Devon, brushing her long-flowing blonde hair, offered a smile and replied, "A WHOLE lot different than what you are used to in San Diego, I'd say. There's snow in the winter and it gets really hot in the summer. I guess it is an okay place to live, but I'm glad I finally got out - at least for the time being. I love this island. I just love it!"

"Already?" Camille countered, giggling. "I'm going to miss my family while we're here. My mom and dad, and my two brothers. I'm going to miss all of them."

"That's one thing about me," Devon commented, her lips pursed. "I really don't care to see my parents any more. I wanted to get away from them more than anything else. It is good for me to have a break from all things Pennsylvania."

"Oh," Camille replied, looking hurt. "Did your parents do something wrong to you? Why are you mad at them?"

"It's a long story," Devon told her, glancing away.

Sorting through her suitcase as she sat on the floor, Camille nodded her head and said, "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, let me know. I'd love to listen and help."

Devon gave Camille a smile and mused, "I appreciate it. I think maybe I'll feel more like sharing in the future, as we get to know each other better. Sound good?"

"Of course," the lusty Latina responded. "Hey, what was that earlier when you tried to put the move on Jeremy?"

"Yeah," Devon grinned, shrugging her shoulders. "So? What can I say? I like him. I like him a lot."

"He does seem nice," Camille offered, sounding reserved. "I was talking with some of the others earlier. We really don't know what he expects from us over the course of the next six weeks. I'm going to hold back my judgment on him until I learn more about him. One of my friends back home warned me that Jeremy may run some sort of slave camp here. She warned me to be ready for anything and everything."

I scoffed at those words - a slave camp(!/?) - as Devon shook her head in denial. "No, I don't think so. I asked Jeremy that very same thing at the party - what he expected from us. He said he would not ask us to do anything that made us feel uncomfortable. You were there too, Camille. I trust him. He is very, very nice. He is honest, too. I like those qualities in a man. I appreciate them."

"How do you know that he is honest?" Camille inquired. "I mean, you just met him a couple of hours ago..."

"Call me an excellent judge of character," Devon told her. "I can see right through men when they are being dishonest. I have had my fair share of practice with that in the past."

"Why are we even here, though?" Camille wondered, a bit skeptical. "Why did Jeremy bring all of us here? Why is he paying us so much money? Surely, he wants something."

"To find the right woman, and eventually marry her," I replied out loud. Obviously, since I was in the voyeur room, neither of the ladies could hear me. But still...

"Those are good questions," Devon nodded. "Maybe we can ask Jeremy about them tomorrow. Nevertheless, I believe this is going to be the absolute best time of all our lives. I think you have nothing to be worried about, Camille. I can promise you that Jeremy will treat us very, very well."

"You must really like him."

"Most definitely," the blonde returned.

"Is your love life as bad as mine?" Camille inquired, suddenly changing the subject.

Devon frowned momentarily. "I was dating this guy named Barrett for a long time, but he was a total jerk." Devon took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't know why I stayed with him as long as I did, but I did. Years."

"Have you ever been married?"

"No, but I'd love to be someday," Devon replied. "I came close with Barrett, I guess, but it never would have worked out. He was such a jerk. He wanted me to live my life HIS way. I felt suffocated. And he cheated on me, too."

"How could anyone cheat on you? You are so beautiful!"

Devon blushed again. She seemed genuinely grateful for these nice compliments. "Thank you, Camille. But after me and Barrett broke up, I kind of lost myself in my job. I was a project manager for a large company in Pennsylvania. I devoted my heart and soul to that company. I worked 16 to 20 hours per day. I worked off days, even vacations. I once worked 106 days in a row, at least ten hours each day. I was like a walking zombie once I finally had a day off. And even then, I still worried about my job all day long."

"Why would you do that? Why work so hard?"

"I wanted to be promoted, but things got to the point where it seemed as if that would never happen," she said. "I saw people with half my experience pass me by. They got to work on the bigger projects, and make more money. And I hated the fact that my boss took ALL of the credit for the work I did. ALL OF THE CREDIT." Devon became agitated as she continued, "I worked my ass off for that company. All those hours and I never got any credit whatsoever." Devon pouted and fretted, "I'm sorry ... please excuse my language."

"There is no need for you to be sorry," Camille mused. "You wanted a little appreciation from your work. You say those with less experience passed you by and were promoted? Yet you gave your whole life to that job?"

"I haven't been on so much as a date in four months," Devon sulked. "I never had any time for anything other than work. But I got so angry with my boss and burned out that after I saw a flyer at a local health club, advertising this island and the chance at $500,000, it seemed like the right choice for me. Once my application was accepted for coming here, I quit my job. I told my boss to shove it."

That was an interesting tidbit of information to me. I was not aware that Devon had quit her job in order to come to the island. Suddenly, I felt worried for her future. I was under the impression that she and all of the other ladies had taken an excused leave of absence from their workplaces.

"What are you going to do once you go back home?"

"I'll land on my feet somewhere," Devon answered. "Even if I don't get the $500,000, I'll get $100,000. Not bad for a six week vacation, huh?" Devon grinned and added, "Plus, it looks like my life-long fantasy will come true here."

"What is that?"

Devon hesitated, then smiled again. "To be with a woman."

Camille's eyes went wide. "You have never been with a woman before? And you're 27? Talking sexually, right?"

Devon nodded her head. "I have been attracted to other women since I was in high school. But I was too afraid to let anyone know about it. Too scared of embarrassment, I guess." Devon seemed a bit uncomfortable as she continued, "I take it ... you have been with ... women before?"

"Yes, I have. Since I was 17. Lots of girls."

"Are those ... is that ... what you prefer?" Devon seemed even more uncomfortable now. She was very curious about Camille and her experiences, obviously, but did not want to come across as being too intrusive or nosey.

"Sometimes I like being with guys," Camille responded. "Sometimes I like being with girls. Depends on my mood. Sometimes I like being with guys AND girls at the same time."

Devon smiled. "You mean a three-some?"

"Or a four-some," Camille mused. "Five-some, six-some. The more people for me, the merrier ... you know?"

Now, Devon was frowning. "I've been with two people in my life. Barrett, and my boyfriend from high school, Tim. Everyone always tells me how beautiful I am. But I'm 27, and I feel as if a big part of my life has passed me by. I just ... I get the feeling that I'm missing out on something. Like I have let so many opportunities pass me by in life in terms of relationships, and I don't have all that many left."

"You are 27, Devon," Camille reminded her. "Not 77. Not too many chances left for a relationship? That is crazy! You have all sorts of time. What about Jeremy?"

Devon smiled. "Hmmmmm ... Jeremy. I really like him. I want to get to know him better. I felt a certain spark the first time I looked at him earlier. You know what I mean?"

Camille tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at Devon. "The type of spark where you feel as if, quite possibly, you have finally found what it is that you have been searching all 27 years of your life for? Perhaps ... the perfect man?"

Devon offered a sheepish grin. "Exactly."

Inside the voyeur room, I gulped my throat and felt a sharp tingling sensation shoot right down my spine. Devon viewed me as the perfect man? ME? The idea was quite flattering, indeed, but I simply could not accept it. I was not perfect. I had way too many flaws as a person to be considered anything more than average, or even below average.

"You are beautiful," Camille stressed, her gaze locked onto Devon's face. "You are the sexiest woman that I have ever seen in my entire life. I think you are a goddess."

Devon offered a slight (perhaps stunned?) smile, then gulped her throat. Camille quickly went on, "I am happy that you are willing to tell me things about your life. I want you to trust in me. I want to be your friend."

"You are very easy to talk to," Devon nodded. "I feel as if I could tell you anything, Camille. I really do. Just from these few minutes here, and the reception party."

"You can," the Mexican purred, before shifting gears in their conversation. "If you like Jeremy as much as you say you do, why not let him know about it?"

Devon laughed in a negative manner and shook her head. "I tried that at the party earlier. I kissed him, you know, but I hope I wasn't too forward with what I did. I really don't want to mess things up. I like him SO MUCH."

"I like you too, dear," I commented, watching the monitor.

"I feel as if I'm back in high school!" Devon giggled, tilting her head from side-to-side in a repeated motion. "Like I am vying for the attention of the hottest guy in class! I certainly haven't felt this way since then."

"The hottest guy in class?" I chuckled, not believing my ears. Was Devon actually making a reference to me?

Camille laughed as well. "I was always vying for the hottest girl in class when I was in high school. Everyone knew that I was bi-sexual, and that I adored other girls. It didn't stop the guys from going after me, though. Some of them thought they were going to get really lucky and not only have sex with me, but one of my girlfriends, too. A few were lucky; we had several three-somes here-and-there."

"Wasn't it embarrassing?"

"What?"

"Everyone knowing that you were bi-sexual?"

Camille shook her head. "Not at all. I never really cared what others thought about me. I had four different girlfriends when I was a senior in high school, and many more in the years following that. If I kept the fact that I am bi-sexual to myself and never let anyone know about it, I would be in the same predicament that you are now."

"What do you mean?" Devon wondered, curious.

"Age 27 and a virgin in terms of being with other women," Camille replied. "Instead, because I was not afraid to let others know of my sexuality, my first time with another woman happened nine years ago - in 2004. A girl, actually. A Puerto Rican girl named A.J." Camille closed her eyes for a moment and sighed at the memories. "Hmmmmm ... A.J. had a tongue and definitely knew how to use it."

"Really?" Devon fidgeted, but also seeming very intrigued.

"How you could have survived this long with just two men in your life - and no women - is beyond me," Camille told her. "I would go insane without the taste of pussy. And just two men? You have limited yourself so much, Devon. Your life must feel so incredibly unfulfilled right now."

"Yeah..." Devon murmured, her voice suddenly frail.

"I have an idea," Camille purred. "You say that you really like Jeremy. You have an attraction for women that has yet to be explored. And you seem very curious and interested about group sex, or at least the idea of it."

"I've never done that sort of thing before," Devon said in her soft, squealy tone. "I mean ... I don't even know anything about it. But the thought does intrigue me."

"Here is my idea," Camille cooed, a devious smile on her face. "I say you and me go to Jeremy's room right now, knock on his door ... and then we fuck him. Together." My eyes suddenly wide, I coughed out loud and felt my cock twinge and pulsate with life. Camille wanted Devon to tag along with her for a night of sex with me? Just the mere idea sent my mind into serious overdrive with the possibilities!

"Oh no, I could never do that," Devon offered in response, shaking her head. "I ... I'm not that type of girl."

"What type of girl?" Camille giggled. "Look at you, Devon. Look at all the pent-up sexual frustration that is inside of you. You haven't been on a date in several months. How many times have you seen a good-looking guy on the street, or at the corner market, and just wanted to let go? Just wanted to throw yourself at him, and let go? Bend over right there and let him violate you like no one's business?"

"Camille!..." Devon squealed, fidgeting about as she leaned against the dresser in their suite. Devon's good side wanted to deny those allegations, but if so, it would have been a lie. Judging by her reaction, Devon had many fantasies similar to the one which Camille just eluded to.

"I know your type."

"My type?" Devon screeched. "WHAT are you talking about?"

Camille smiled. "You worked in an office setting, yes? I bet you wore tight, little outfits every single day to work - showing off your body for all the men, and even the women. Am I correct?" Devon squirmed and fidgeted some more, silently admitting that Camille's speculation was dead-on accurate. "You were the best-looking woman in the entire company, and you knew it. You wanted others to know it, too. Show some leg, some cleavage ... you'd do anything."

Camille eyed Devon from head to toe and continued, "How many times did you fantasize about sucking one of your male co-workers off? Even if it was just for fun? How many times did you lean over a desk, or a counter, so someone could see straight down your blouse? How many times did you think about hooking up with the hot red-head in the corner cubicle, and licking her pussy? Maybe even having others watch you?"

"Act-Actually," Devon stammered, "the hot blonde. I ... it was a hot blonde in the corner cubicle. Je-Jesse."

"Thought so," Camille grinned. "How many times did you finger yourself to sleep at night, fantasizing about licking Jesse's pussy as if it was your first supper in months?"

"Camille!" Devon whined, obviously flustered. "Stop it!"

"I bet you would have made a fine sucretary."

"Sucretary?" Devon asked, confused.

"A sucretary," Camille repeated. "Your job each day would be to wait on your knees underneath your boss' desk. When he comes into the office and sits down at his desk, you would be required to start sucking his cock immediately. That is what Amy was for her boss. She told me so!" Camille nodded her head for emphasis and purred, "Yes ... you would be REALLY good at that. Probably even much better than Amy, because of all of that frustration inside of you. Or maybe your boss could be a woman? Me ... perhaps? I would have you lick my pussy all day, Devon. I would also have you fuck my clients and all of your co-employees on demand. Oh yes ... I would! And best of all, you would like it! You would always want more!"

"Oh God..." Devon sighed, those words and the thoughts they conjured up within her mind obviously affecting her.

"You would be really good at that," Camille surmised, a wicked grin on her face. "You and your hot, little body. If I were your boss, Devon, your only job would be to fuck others. The office slut! Most importantly, though ... me."

"Camille!" Devon squealed in protest.

"Hey ... you wouldn't have to worry about being passed over for a promotion ever again. You'd get all of the promotions you could ever want. I would turn you into a 'lil fuck doll ... a Tickle Me Devon doll. I'd dress you up in leather, latex, PVC ... handcuffs too, of course. Dog chains! You'd crawl around the office all day on your hands and knees, and you'd fuck anyone and everyone I told you on a drop of a dime. I'd keep you on a leash and you'd bark like a puppy on command."

Devon sprung up and flailed her arm outward in a very angry fashion. Apparently, Camille had went too far. "I am going down to the kitchen to get something to drink," Devon told her. "And I DO NOT want you to follow me." With that, she turned and stormed out of the room.

Camille still had that evil smile as she looked toward the door Devon had just exited through. "It may take a couple of days, but I'll convert her," the Latina said in a low voice, nodding her head for emphasis. "All that loneliness, that desire and frustration built up inside of her ... I'm going to turn her into a walking, living, breathing sex toy."


My attention was diverted as I noticed in the third guest suite, there was what appeared to be a little girl seated on the far bed. She was wearing white pajamas that had feet in them, with yellow duckie designs all around. Oh my God!...

"I just never found the right person to give myself to yet," Lindsay said, as I flipped the audio switch on for the room that she shared with Trish. "I want my first time to be very special and wonderful. Is that too much to ask? I want to look back 50 years from now and not regret one thing about it. That is why I've waited this long. I had lots of opportunities with guys in high school, but I never found the right one. I guess I'm a little old-fashioned..."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Trish, who was seated on the opposite bed, told her. "But why did you come here, honey, knowing what this place would be like?"

"For the money," Lindsay admitted. "For the money. I ... I know it will happen here. I know that I will lose my virginity here. I just want to feel comfortable and secure with whomever it happens to be with. I guess I won't be in love, but I at least want it to be with a friend. I don't have any friends here yet because we all just met today."

"I'm your friend," Trish cooed.

Lindsay seemed to squirm about at those words. "I have never had a girlfriend, unfortunately, and I've only had a couple of boyfriends. I've always been curious about other girls but have always been too afraid to approach them. I live in a really small town and if word got out ... OHHHHH ... I don't even want to think about it. But I've dreamed of one day having a girlfriend for probably five or six years. Even as early as age 12, I was attracted to other girls. I had the biggest crush on Britney Spears back in the day."

Trish laughed. "Hopefully not any more! I remember when she shaved her head bald ... her career has definitely taken a downward spin from where it was 10, 12 years ago."

"She has made a comeback in recent times, you know."

"Sort of..." Trish conceded.

Lindsay hesitated for an instant, then shyly bit her lip. "Carrie Underwood is my girl-crush nowadays."

Trish smiled. "Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all. Carrie Underwood seems like a very classy gal."

Lindsay shook her head and added, "I have vivid fantasies about a lot of girls I see in my everyday life, too. Not just celebrities. I have wanted to be with another girl for the longest time. I think ... I think I was attracted to girls before I was boys. I ... I have so many different thoughts ... and fantasies." Lindsay's face turned beet-red as she went on, "I ... I cannot believe that I am talking so open and candidly about my attraction for other girls with you. I have never told anyone about my fantasies like this."

Trish smiled and winked an eye at her. "I want to be the one who makes your dreams come true. I would be HONORED."

Lindsay gulped her throat, then pointed toward the nearby washroom. "I think I'm gonna take a bath in the jacuzzi. Never been in one of them before." She smiled at Trish and added, "I'm only staying in there for a half-hour, though. I'm really tired. I cannot believe that it's almost midnight. I never flew quite so far in an airplane before. I don't even like being in them. Amy said her ears were popping. So were mine, unfortunately. They were popping like crazy!"

"Do your religious beliefs make you believe that sex is a bad thing?" Trish wondered. "Sex outside of marriage, eh?"

Lindsay nodded her head. "Yes. It was instilled in me by my parents that I should save myself for marriage. My oldest sister, Jennifer, waited until her wedding night. She was 22 then. My other two sisters, Gina and Alison, did not wait." Lindsay frowned again. "Alison is younger than me. She is 16 and has already been with three boys."

"Does that make you jealous?"

Lindsay contemplated Trish's question for a moment, then nodded her head in a shy manner. "Sometimes I think about what it would be like. Alison has told me ... some stories."

Trish smiled at her. "Oh yeah? What type of stories?"

Lindsay gulped her throat. "Alison tells me of the many things that she does with her new boyfriend." Suddenly, the 18-year-old looked very agitated. "If it is God's will for me to save myself for my wedding night, then why do I have the feelings and desires that I do? Why does listening to Alison and her stories about Eric make me ... umm ... uhh..."

"What?" Trish insisted.

Obviously overcome with a sudden rush of embarrassment, Lindsay still admitted, "Hot. They make me feel hot."

Now, Trish was smiling from ear-to-ear. She had just managed to get Lindsay to confide something in her that no one, with the possible exception of Alison, had ever heard her say before. "Having sex is not a bad thing, honey. I have never been married, but I've had sex with five people in my life - three men and two women. It does not make me a bad person. I KNOW that I am a good person. I also know that no matter what, I will go to Heaven when I die. Heaven would be a sparsely populated place if it only consisted of people who waited until their wedding night to have sex."

Now, Lindsay appeared to be so incredibly flustered that she was actually trembling. "I'm gonna go take my bath..."

Suddenly worried, Trish sat up in her own bed and implored to her room-mate, "I didn't mean, honey, to make you feel one bit uncomfortable with what I said. You gave me your views on sex. I gave you mine. That is all."

"You did not do anything wrong," Lindsay assured Trish. "Nothing at all. I just ... I have been thinking about this day for the past three months. Ever since Jeremy said he had accepted my application and was bringing me to the island, I knew this would be the place where I would lose my virginity. Now that I'm finally here, I ... I ... I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"I need to come to grips with what will happen here," she explained. "Look at the other girls here. Pamela is a stripper. She has been a stripper for over 11 years. My mother would freak out if she knew that I was hanging around with a stripper. Look at Amy. She told me on the airline flight that she has sex with FIVE GUYS AT ONCE every weekend. I heard that Camille has a group of girlfriends back home. I ... it seems to me that I'm the odd one out here. I have no experience. You have been with three guys and two girls, Trish. I am sure that Devon has had her fair share of lovers, too. Plus, all of you are so much older than me. Jeremy is the oldest one of you all. He is more than twice my age. Jeremy ... Jeremy ... Jeremy ... is only seven years younger than my father." Ouch, I said inwardly. "Trish, I ... I feel ... I feel so out-of-place. I feel so different!"

Lindsay vehemently shook her head and fussed, "Look at that shirt Amy had on at the meeting earlier tonight, with those ... those ... those AWFUL WORDS!" Obviously, Lindsay was referring to Amy's Filthy WHORE, Sin For Sale tank-top. "I would never be caught DEAD wearing something like that! I feel ... I feel so out-of-place here. So out-of-place! I ... I ... all of the girls seem so entirely different than me."

"There is no reason for you to feel out-of-place, honey," Trish countered. "Everyone has to start somewhere. And I love the fact that you are still a teen-ager. I am a good 12 years older than you - 30 - but I never want you to feel out-of-place when you're with me. What I want is for you to feel comfortable and at ease. I want to be your friend. I am pretty easy-going and can relate to anyone at any age. My younger sister, Melissa, is close to your age. She is 20, and probably looks at me as her best friend. I think that I am a pretty cool and sensible gal, and I can relate. I can. Believe me, I have nothing but your best interests in mind. I want you to feel as if you could trust me with anything."

Lindsay swallowed hard. "Like my virginity?"

Trish nodded her head. "If your virginity is something that you would be willing to give to me, Lindsay, I cannot tell you how much of an honor and a privilege it would be." Lindsay lowered her head and blushed a bright, crimson red yet again as Trish added, "I would treat it as such, too. I would make you feel so incredibly special, so wonderful. I would make it better than you ever dreamed possible. That much, I promise you. 100 percent satisfaction, guaranteed."

Lindsay was so disoriented now that it seemed as if she could not offer a single word in response.

"But I am not going to coerce or try to talk you into anything," Trish quickly advised her. "Whomever you decide to have your first time with, sweetheart, the choice will be up to you. I want what you want. As long as you are happy, Lindsay, I will be happy. Please remember that."

Still embarrassed and flustered, Lindsay glanced upward and made momentary eye contact with Trish. "I will."

"Can I ask you something, eh?"

"Sure," Lindsay replied, her eyes cast downward again.

"You mentioned the fact that Pamela is a stripper, and your mom would not like the fact that you were hanging around with one," Trish began. "You are very religious. It is not God's intention, per se, for a woman to make a living and a career out of taking her clothes off for total and complete strangers. So, in your mind, honey, does Pamela being a stripper make her a bad person? If the answer is yes, I will keep it to myself. I will not tell Pamela, or anyone else. You can trust me."

Lindsay took a deep breath and sighed. "A week ago, I would have said yes. But now ... I'm not so sure. Pamela is so nice and friendly. She told me to come to her if I ever needed any help or advice. She ... she seems way too nice to be a stripper. I have a hard time imagining her that way. She was so nice to me on the boat ride from Lima to here. You were nice too, Trish. I ... I really appreciate that. Strippers ... I imagine them as jaded and hard-looking ... like those you see on television talk shows. Alcohol and drugs, marijuana. But Pamela is so beautiful. She looks like a professional model if you ask me, not a stripper. She is smart, too! She is part of Mensa. I would not think that many strippers are qualified to be in Mensa. Did you see how fast Pamela filled out those Sudoku puzzles on the boat? She did them in no time flat!"

"I happen to think that Pamela is a sweet girl," Trish commented. "I sat next to her on the flight from Miami. I certainly would have never pegged her as a stripper. But Pamela is nowhere near as sweet as you are, Lindsay."

With that, the young minx bolted up from her private bed and declared, "I'm DEFINITELY going to take my bath now."

Trish grinned and waved at Lindsay as she made her way into the washroom. "Have fun in the jacuzzi..."

Of course, with Lindsay stepping into the washroom and triggering its motion detector, the corresponding monitor here within the voyeur room came to life. After closing the door, Lindsay went over to the tub and turned its water on. She adjusted its temperature to her liking and then allowed the tub to begin to fill with water. A moment later, the little blonde leaned against the sinktop and began tugging at the feet part of her pajama bottoms. Decision time...

What should I do? I was presented with the opportunity to sit back here in my voyeur room and watch Lindsay peel away her entire pajama suit from her heavenly body, only to then submerge herself into the luxurious whirlpool bathtub.

Of course, I could throw another descriptor onto that body of hers, too - virginal. Lindsay was a virgin and thus, no one had ever been blessed with the sight of her nude body before. But the moment was here. I had a one-in-a-billion chance of eavesdropping on an untouched virgin as she took a bath. Lindsay would not have the faintest clue that she had an audience. No one, in fact, would know. No one except me. Isn't this the ultimate scenario for someone who had created his very own voyeur room? All I had to do was kick back, relax, and enjoy the scintillating show.

It should not come as any shocking surprise that the very moment Lindsay began to tug her pajama bottoms downward, I temporarily deactivated the camera in the washroom, thus causing the monitor in front of me to go blank. There was not even a millisecond of debate about that within my mind.

I simply could not bring myself to spy on Lindsay in such a private moment. Until she was comfortable sharing her body with others, it would not be right of me to eavesdrop on her as she took a bath. I could never do that to a virgin.

But none of the other ladies here were virgins.

Back in their guest suite, Trish was eyeing the adjacent closed door while gently caressing and prodding each of her large, beautiful breasts with an open hand through the t-shirt that she wore. Judging by what had transpired thus far, it was obvious that Trish wanted the opportunity to get to know Lindsay. I got the sense that she actually wanted to care about Lindsay as a person. But by watching her now on the surveillance monitor, I could easily tell that Trish had a serious physical attraction for Lindsay, too.

Trish's brown eyes were glazed over as she continued to stare at the closed washroom door, while also still rubbing her breasts through the fabric of her t-shirt. There was one thing on her mind, and it was obvious. The 30-year-old was fantasizing about the very thing I chose to forego just seconds ago. What did Lindsay look like when totally nude? Maybe she was thinking of giving Lindsay's body a soapy scrubdown much the same way Pamela and Amy did to each other earlier. Or, perhaps most likely, Trish was contemplating how that virgin pussy would taste on her lips and tongue...

Trish let out a long-winded sigh and now used both hands to generously cup and squeeze her breasts. The busty vixen glanced at the door again, then gently murmured, "Oh God ... Lindsay is so pretty." My eyes wide as I watched her, Trish settled down onto the mattress and moaned out in arousal. "She's the sweetest little thing I've ever seen in my life. I want to take her home and play house for the next 50 years!"

Before gliding her right hand underneath the waistband of her shorts, Trish looked at the nearby door yet again. It seemed as if she wanted to make certain that Lindsay would not be stepping out anytime soon. Satisfied for now, Trish groaned out as she slid several fingers between her thighs.

The young woman's body began to squirm and writhe about on the bed, albeit in a gentle fashion, as she twiddled away at her pussy with a bevy of fingers. Her shorts were blue and made of cotton, and were quite a snug fit. Though I could not see Trish's pussy as she massaged it, I followed the plight of her long, supple fingers through the fabric.

"Hmmmmm," she sighed, her knees now in the air and feet flat on the bed. "I want to love that girl so much..."

Inside the voyeur room, I could not resist the urge to withdraw my throbbing cock from my own shorts and feverishly stroke it in the open air. Trish came across as very classy and distinguished, so having the opportunity to watch her as she masturbated in this private moment was very special. It was also incredibly naughty, but I could not help myself.

Trish licked her lips as her actions upon the bed became more animated. Her knees still in the air, those legs were moving as she continued pleasuring her pussy with her right hand. With her left, she traced it across the outline of her breasts. Wow, I said to myself. What a goddess...

I should have felt guilty for spying on Trish, but I didn't. The sexual voyeur in me always won out over my decent, logical side in the end - with the lone exception of Lindsay. Though my voyeuristic side wanted me to, I could not bring myself to eavesdrop on an untouched virgin. All of the other ladies, though, were obviously fair game.

"Let's get off together," I growled out loud in the voyeur room, busily frigging my cock, my eyes transfixed on that one, particular monitor. "Come on, sweetheart. Get yourself off. Get yourself off, and help ME get off, too. Let's get off together. Come on..."

Trish giggled as I said those words. I wondered if she was fantasizing about what it would be like to do the things to Lindsay's sweet pussy that she was now doing to her own. I did not need to wonder. That was obviously on her mind. A whole lot of other things were on her mind, too.

"Hmmmmm..." Trish soon moaned, her movements becoming even more agitated. She was fingering her pussy nice and fast now. Her moans were becoming more prevalent, too.

I almost blew my load as Trish used her free hand to pull a white vibrator out from underneath the pillow. It looked like one of those magic wands which I had saw so many times in adult mail-order catalogs. Trish held the pleasure tool above her face for an instant and giggled to herself. "Why ... it's Mr. Happy time!"

But when Trish began nudging her shorts downward, there was a noise from elsewhere in the suite. Trish jerked about and instantly sat up as if she had just heard a gunshot go off. In reality, it was the sound of the washroom door being unlocked from the inside, then opened.

In her haste not to get caught in the act, Trish was able to stash the vibrator underneath the pillow behind her. But her posture was erect and straight, and she had quite the guilty, dumbfounded expression on her face as Lindsay glared at her with a very peculiar, odd look.

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh ... yeah," Trish nodded, her breathing ragged. She tried to compose herself. "Oh ... yeah. I was ... I was ... you ... you startled me! Yes! You startled me! That's all. I was ... I was about to doze off." Trish vigorously shook her head and then did her best to come across as an innocent. "I thought you were going to take a bath, eh?"

With her yellow-duckied pajamas still on, Lindsay pointed toward the suitcase that was perched atop her own bed. "I forgot my hair dryer," she said, that same odd look on her ravishing face. "I ... I think I'll get it now." Lindsay quickly stepped toward the bed and retrieved the hair dryer. She offered Trish one more strange look, then backed her way into the washroom and closed (and locked) the door.

Trish sighed deeply and brought her right hand to her face. She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, then shook her head and sighed again. "That was close," she breathed. "I need some fresh air." A moment later, Trish rose to her feet and quickly exited the suite.

In the voyeur room, I shook my head as well. I got the impression that Lindsay knew Trish was not being completely truthful with her. But at the same time, I do not believe that Lindsay had any clue that Trish had been masturbating. Even more, masturbating to the thought of Lindsay herself. How could she ever suspect such a thing?

Trish was EXTREMELY lucky that she did not get caught...

The sight of Lindsay in her pajamas - which did nothing but make her appear even younger - coupled with the fact that she was an untouched virgin, made my senses shift into overdrive. I continually stroked my cock here in the voyeur room, fantasizing about what it would be like to take this erection and insert it into that sweet, little mouth of hers. I wanted to deflower Lindsay's pussy more than anything!

On the other hand, I would only do those things to Lindsay if she were to afford me the opportunity. Much like Trish, I was not going to try and sway her opinion toward me at all. I was not the type of person to do such things. But the idea itself? Contemplating the possibility? It was exhilarating.

I may have naughty thoughts, indeed, but I pride myself in being a gentleman and thus, my actions would always be totally pure and sincere. All one had to do is point toward my turning off the hidden surveillance camera in the washroom once Lindsay started getting ready for her dip in the tub. I would feel so very guilty now if I had actually spied on her.

Over the course of a few hours, I had gone from Pamela being my favorite to Devon, and now Lindsay. Yes, Lindsay was my new favorite. There was something to be said about her sweet innocence and wholesome good looks. I found that young and naive aura she displayed to be very magnetic, too.

At the same time, however, I had to be rational about Lindsay and any potential prospects with her. How many girls fresh out of high school would seriously consider a long-term commitment with a 39-year-old man such as myself? Obviously, I had to keep that in mind before allowing myself to become too emotionally infatuated with Lindsay. I was more than twice her age and, even worse, old enough to be her father. That was a definite first for me in my lifetime. Never before had I been able to say that about a woman that I was pursuing. I was old enough to be her father. It did not sound right. Obviously, it was not something to be overly joyous about.

All of a sudden, however - as crazy as this may sound - Lindsay and Trish were no longer on my mind.


The surveillance monitor which displayed the long corridor outside my personal suite flickered to life, and my eyes went wide at what I saw. Amy was fast approaching my room, decked out in a flirtatious and sexy outfit. She even went right past the glass wall (and all of its shimmering lights) that I spoke of earlier, and paid it no attention whatsoever. It was crystal-clear that she was coming to offer me a visit.

I growled at the sight of the loaded red-head as she took in a deep breath, then knocked on the front door of my suite. I quickly exited the voyeur room and sealed its entrance, obviously not wanting Amy (or any of the other ladies) to know about my secret quite yet. Perhaps in time, I would let them know about it (or perhaps not). But right now? This was definitely not the right time.

I took a deep breath of my own before opening the door and offering Amy my most gracious, friendly smile. Needless to say, she looked absolutely mesmerizing. I was still sporting a raging, full-blown erection from earlier (thanks to Trish, Lindsay and the voyeur room), and the thought quickly dawned on me that Amy would be a good outlet for it.

I began to contemplate that if a truly perfect woman was sculpted, perhaps it would be Amy. Why not? All I had to was look at her in order to feel this way. Physically fit and shapely at a height of 5-foot-6, Amy literally glowed as she stood before me now. She had a certain, definitive aura about herself which could not be put into words. Those eyes of hers, green and spellbinding as could be, accentuated the sheer beauty of her face to an even greater extent.

"Hi Amy. What can I do for you? Isn't it a bit late?" Oh, I am certain that I sounded like a bumbling fool to her. I had too many visions of too many things - all of which were not only good, but naughty as well - running roughshod throughout my mind right now.

She reached out and her delicate hand came into contact with my arm. She offered it a squeeze and looked directly at me. "Can I come in for a minute? I gotta talk to you."

"Ummmmm ... sure," I managed to tell her. I felt tingles going up my spine due to the warmth of her hand. "Come in, dear. Make yourself at home. Can I get you a drink?" I was able to collect my senses somewhat and pressed onward, "Unfortunately, I have no alcohol or wine located here. I'm not into that. But how about some orange juice, maybe?"

Amy slipped her slender right arm around mine and stepped into the suite, momentarily guiding me with her. Of course, I offered her no resistance whatsoever. Why would I?

Amy said nothing in response as she released my arm and moved further into the suite on her own. Her firm, luscious legs hypnotized me for a moment as they shuffled along with catlike grace. The enchantress came to a halt beside the large, sprawling bed, which was the centerpiece of the suite, then turned her head and offered me an inquisitive, sultry glance. As a result, my heart literally skipped a beat.

"Orange juice would be fine," she simply offered.

After pouring her a quick glass of orange juice (easily the quickest glass I ever poured, by the way), Amy smiled as I approached her. Once the distance was closed, she reached out with a single finger and trailed it down the very center of my chest. The gentle, subtle move on her part, of course, sent absolute shockwaves throughout my entire body.

Taking a deep breath, I offered Amy a long stare and almost became lost in her green eyes yet again. I blinked, then re-focused and found myself taking in the wondrous beauty of Amy's face. As she looked at me with a playful glint in her eyes, and took the glass of orange juice with her free hand, I somehow found the will to speak.

"Anything ... I can do for you tonight?"

Amy had a bounce in her step as she spun around in a circle, offering up a beguiling smile to boot. Her eyes then began to focus on the suite, which had millions of dollars worth of collectables and decorations scattered throughout it. Of particular interest to Amy, however, was the 180-degree view of the Pacific Ocean through six floor-to-ceiling, plate-glass windows which wrapped halfway around the bedroom. It was a beautiful spectacle here at night, but even more so in the daytime when there were no clouds in the sky. It was blue for as far as one could see.

I gave Amy another hard, solid look. How I was able to maintain any semblance of thought (and restraint) with her proudly wearing a snug-fitting, blue denim blouse, along with a brown, sassy miniskirt, was beyond my comprehension.

"Wow..." Amy murmured, her green eyes flashing as they fixated on me after surveying the suite. "That sure is some view you have there, Jeremy. All lit-up at night; I can even see the beach below us." She paused and then openly wondered, "Just how much money do you exactly have?"

"Enough, but I'd rather not tell just yet," were my words. "Perhaps in due time, I'll let you ladies in on my secrets. Right now, we're in the getting to know each other stage."

Amy stared at me for several seconds, but said nary a word as she then turned and slowly walked away. Yet again, I found myself totally infatuated with the sight of Amy's tanned, sleek legs as she silently stood with her back to me. The corduroy miniskirt she wore did a remarkable job of highlighting those beautiful legs. It did not take a lot of time before I was blatantly ogling at the mere sight of them. I stepped toward her, wanting to be closer.

Finally turning her head to glance over her shoulder at me, Amy giggled as I continued to gawk at her. She even shifted her weight a couple of times, which did nothing but draw my attention even more toward those immaculate legs.

"Don't you get lonely here, Jeremy, all by yourself?" Amy asked, slowly sashaying off toward the bookcase full of artifacts and historical relics against the far wall. "I mean, before we came here ... there was no one else, right? No one but you? You and Louisa, of course?" She took a swig of her orange juice, then put its glass down on a coaster.

"That's right ... just me and the housekeeper. I do have a friend - a lady named Kristanna - who visits me on occasion. But I don't see her quite as often as I'd like to. I am afraid that Kristanna lives halfway around the world."

"I mean, you're a normal man, right?" Amy continued. "I mean, you have ... needs, right?"

I gulped my throat and answered, "Most definitely."

"OH..." the 30-year-old gently cooed, before bending over slightly at the waist to look at an object upon the shelf. Amy pretended to inspect the artifact, but it was readily apparent that her sole purpose in bending over was to get a reaction out of me. She even proceeded to wiggle that shapely, picture-perfect ass of hers in a seductive manner.

"Wow..." Amy murmured, as she bent lower, looking at a new object. "This stuff you have is pretty interesting, Jeremy." I groaned as the goddess raised a high-heeled foot and dangled it about for a moment. It was a very simple move on her part, but also powerfully erotic.

Amy put her foot back down and then bent even lower. Now, she was inspecting something upon the bottom shelf. Her legs widespread, Amy was bent over at the waist in her little, brown miniskirt, which was riding high. I quickly realized that she was not wearing anything underneath the miniskirt as her precious, glistening pussy was on full display for my admiring eyes. My entire body was trembling so much that I feared I may just spontaneously combust!

Amy stood up and slowly turned toward me, sweeping her immaculate, unrestrained red hair in the process with her right forearm. "Where did you get that artifact, Jeremy?" she asked, pointing to the piece on the lower right. "It looks so expensive, and beautiful."

Amy waited for an answer, but did not receive one. I was way too distracted to speak. Thus, she bent down once more and inspected the object on the bottom shelf. Again, her miniskirt rode high as I found myself literally drooling at the sight of not only her pussy, but her ass as well. This time, though, Amy glanced back over her shoulder and caught me openly staring at her. As if she did not know already...

Amy stood up one more time, then casually reached behind herself to smooth her corduroy skirt downward. Because this incredible woman had teased and tormented me so much over the past couple of minutes, my cock was bigger and harder than it ever had been before. The excitement level within me had reached monumental proportions, and was still growing.

Amy obviously had no interest in admiring those artifacts and relics upon the shelf. This whole charade of hers was nothing more than a ploy to get me aroused. She succeeded.

"I'm so looking forward to the next six weeks," Amy cooed as she strolled over to a chair, her exquisite, silky-smooth hair coming into contact with my shoulder. I could smell her perfume ... it was lavender. The intoxicating scent flooded my senses, and made my head swoon. Amy then took a seat and offered, "Hmmmmm ... but what a long day I've had. It would be really nice to relax, and unwind for a bit." She raised her right knee and extended her leg outward, at a 90 degree angle, then dangled a high-heeled foot about while pouting the words, "I feel so sore and tired."

Try as I might, but I could not help but to stare at those gorgeous, lithe legs once again. Amy realized what I was doing, then proceeded to very slowly cross her legs - which brought a harsh, excited moan from deep within me. I was like a caged animal waiting to get loose! She had me under her spell, and was no doubt going to take advantage.

"I'd really like for you to fuck me," Amy proclaimed, her voice suddenly very intent and focused.

I shook my head in response to her aggressive words as I began to appraise the rest of her body. Amy had such slender arms and shoulders, but I paused too long to admire her large, heavenly breasts as they jutted outward upon her snug-fitting blouse. Amy's face was absolutely stunning. She had a perfect set of sparkling, white teeth, which accompanied a killer smile. How could I deny her?

Despite the heated state of arousal she had put me in, I suddenly felt mysteriously at ease. Amy was so easy - so comfortable, to be around. She was a true goddess...

"I want you to fuck me, Jeremy," Amy reiterated. My cock began to throb and pulsate within my shorts as she took a deep breath and arched her shoulders back, causing the blue denim top she wore to stretch tightly upon her breasts. My eyes wide, the young woman suddenly dropped to her knees - in a very submissive position - and begged, "Fuck me please."

"Oh my God..." was all I managed.

Even before I could think of what to do or say next, I found myself dropping to my own knees directly in front of Amy. I reached out with my right hand and cradled the side of her face, and held it in a gentle, loving fashion.

"Is this what you truly want?" I quietly asked her. "We just met today. I do not want you to do something that you may regret ... be it later tonight, tomorrow, whenever. You really, truly want to be with me?"

"I do."

I gulped at those words, which also made my heart flutter with a sudden rush of love and devotion. Could I hear those same two words from Amy again in the future? Perhaps next time she said it, Amy would be wearing a white gown in a cathedral setting? Both of our families in attendance? A preacher standing before us?

"You don't have to do this," I told her. "I am in no way expecting this from you or any of the other girls here."

"I want to do it," she simply said.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Please take me. Take me now."

I nodded my head at her. There was no turning back now.

I reached around Amy's luscious body and lifted the hem of her brown miniskirt. Again, she had nothing on underneath it. No G-string, no panties, no nothing. I could see the outline of her lush, perky nipples through the fabric of her blue denim blouse as well. Then, it dawned on me.

"You don't have a bra on either, dear?"

"I hate bras," Amy returned, making a face, in essence repeating what she said to Pamela earlier today in their guest room. "I hate bras. Way too constricting. And I think panties get in the way too much."

"You like showing off your body, don't you?"

"I love it," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "I've always been a show-off; a tease, a flirt. I can't help it. The idea of others looking at me has always been a turn-on. I never get tired of it."

With my left hand, I pulled back the waistband of my shorts while using my right to reach inside and grasp my fully-erect cock. I took it out and jostled it about before Amy's pretty face. Now, it was my turn to be the bold one.

"Is this the reward you have always gotten for being a tease?" I asked her. "A hard cock?"

She nodded her head, her eyes fixated upon my erection. "Yes. That, and some pussy. But I prefer cock."

I grinned yet again. "You're not happy unless you have a cock stuffed somewhere in your body ... correct?"

Amy looked up into my eyes and shook her head. "No, I'm not." I could tell that my words were getting to her. She was becoming greatly aroused - even without me touching her. How often has that happened in the past? Never.

"You came here tonight to seduce me. Didn't you, Amy?"

"Yes," she replied, her gaze quickly lowered.

"I think it's time you suck my cock," I simply stated, to which the 30-year-old nodded her head in a submissive manner.

I moved to the edge of the bed, then wiggled my shorts and briefs down to my knees and let them fall to the floor. At the same time, Amy scooted forward and grasped my erection with her right hand. She slapped its bulging tip upon her chin and giggled, then looked up into my eyes.

"You may want to get used to being on your knees for me," I told her, again showing my bold side. "We may like it so much that you do it for the next 40 years. Maybe have three, four kids along the way, and grow old together." Amy sighed at those words as I asked, "That sound appealing to you?"

"Yes. Yes ... it does."

I smiled at her. "Me too." That was jumping the gun, so to speak. But it was spontaneous for me, and honest. I have never regretted being honest and upfront about things in my life. It is a trait that I am very proud of, although it has gotten me into some trouble a few times over the years.

Amy kept a nice, loose grip around my bulging erection while sliding her opposite hand down the center of her very own chest, to her abdomen, and finally between her thighs. The 30-year-old groaned with immense delight and her eyes momentarily rolled into the back of her head as she slipped a finger into the moist folds of her pussy. Amy gave my cock a healthy squeeze, then removed the aforementioned finger from her pussy and proceeded to reach upward, and place it directly beneath my nose. The exhilerating smell of her feminine juices quickly overwhelmed my senses and, after one more tenacious squeeze, a single, fiery burst of semen erupted from my cock and flowed over her hand and wrist.

Amy's eyes were beaming as she smiled at her carnal work. She extended her tongue and gave her hand one long, luxurious swipe, then looked up at me and literally purred like a kitten. "You taste delicious, Jeremy. You really do."

"Oh God, Amy..." was all I could muster, my body trembling with a desire and emotion it had rarely felt before.

She snickered at me. "You've made a mess, haven't you? Now I'm going to have to clean you up."

Amy proceeded to lower her head and remove the sperm from my shaft and testicles with her sumptuously thick burgundy hair. She securely wrapped my cock in those heavenly tresses and slowly moved her right hand from the base to the tip of its bulging head. It felt as if my cock was being pushed through a silken tube; the sensation was so overwhelming that I nearly had a full-blown orgasm. Never in my wildest dreams did I realize that a woman's hair could feel so good!

Once Amy had finally finished cleaning me and lifted her head to make eye contact yet again, I saw several streaks of her long, free-flowing red hair clumped together with my gooey cum. Her elegant, peachy face was flushed bright pink under the circumstances. I kept looking at her, literally transfixed, admiring how supernally beautiful she truly was.

"Now it's time for my real dinner."

With those words, Amy did not waste any more time as she used both of her hands to cup and softly knead my testicles. At the same time, her slick tongue darted over and around the head of my pulsating cock. Being very gentle, Amy soon switched her hands to the length of my shaft while moving her tongue to my testicles. Now stroking its length, Amy slid and twirled her tongue around my testicles. Moving her hands and fingers back to them, the eager nymphomaniac captured the very tip of my shaft between her moist, pouty lips, and then began the slow, deep descent.

I moaned and growled as I watched the length of my cock sink further and further between her lush lips. I eventually let out a satisfied moan once Amy had engulfed me completely. Her nose and lips pressed against my pubic bone, Amy had taken my entire length into her mouth.

The enchantress was frozen for a short time, obviously enjoying the feel of my bulging cock-head lingering deep within her throat. Then, without warning, her head bobbed upward - until the very tip of my erection was loosely nestled between her lips. Two seconds later, she quickly engulfed and swallowed the entire length of my cock into her hungry, greedy mouth yet again.

Amy used this particular technique for quite some time. At the speed of light, she would jam my shaft deep into her throat. While tickling and playing with my testicles, she would then very S-L-O-W-L-Y ease my shaft almost completely out, until its tip was just between her luscious lips. Then, the maddening process would repeat itself.

When Amy looked up at me, her mouth still full, her green eyes roared with passionate lust once they caught sight of mine. Our gazes now mutually locked as one, Amy began bobbing her head up-and-down at a very gentle, easy pace.

The young woman moaned in delight as I reached down with my hands and caressed her scalp. Running both hands through her silky-smooth hair, I let out a hardened sigh and then thrusted my hips forward - driving my throbbing erection hard and fast into her eager, willing throat.

"I can't take any more!" I exclaimed, out of breath.

Amy immediately steadied herself, gripping the base of my shaft and closing her lips tightly around it. A mere instant later, the eruption came.

As expected, Amy kept her mouth sealed around my cock as I pumped load after load of semen into her. She slurped and swallowed down every last ounce, then removed my cock from her mouth and began licking it dry. Her tongue lashed away at every inch, making sure the moistness was taken care of. She did a very thorough (and excellent) job, too.

Though emotionally drained and somewhat exhausted from the intense height of sweet orgasm, I was not done with Amy. Nor was she done with me. I did not need any time to rest and recover, either. I was instantly ready for more.

"We gotta get you out of these clothes," I breathed, reaching forward and unbuttoning the blue denim blouse that she still had on. After whisking it off of her, Amy wrapped both arms around my neck and shoulders, and joined me on the bed. She sat down upon my lap and embraced me lovingly, her warm breath now serenading my neck. She jammed her breasts over and across my chest, obviously enjoying the sensation.

"You don't mind me coming here tonight the way I did?" she whispered, her lips mere inches away from my ear. "I hope I'm not being too forward with you. I just need to get fucked tonight and unfortunately, you are the only man here. I need a cock in the worst way tonight. I ... I'm just so horny tonight, and worked up."

"You can be as forward or aggressive with me as you like," I told her, my breathing tense and ragged. Amy had a bright smile on her face, her pretty eyes flashing, as I gazed at her. I cupped her chin with both of my hands, then massaged her lips with each thumb before pressing my own lips to hers for a fervid, exploratory kiss.

My whole body tensed up and I growled like a madman as Amy soon found my tongue with her own, and erotically stabbed away at it. I slipped an arm around her lower back, and caressed her supple waist with a hand. All the while, Amy reached for my deflated cock and began to pump and frig it.

Amy was going through her own progression of moans and sighs as she literally assaulted my mouth with her lips and tongue. The feel of her big, wondrous breasts against me as she pressed her chest hard into mine sent wave after wave of hot lust all throughout me. I was on cloud nine!

"Tell ME what you want, Jeremy," Amy said in a hushed tone. "Tell me what you want me to do. I want to obey you. I want to make you the happiest man alive ... tonight."

I held back a laugh and wryly countered, "Does this have anything to do with the money you were asking about earlier?"

"It has NOTHING to do with it," Amy responded, her tone and expression honest. "I just want to get fucked. These beautiful girls all around me, anticipating what the summer has in store. Plain and simple, I want to get fucked." Amy offered another beguiling smile as she leaned forward, her eyes never leaving mine. "I am here solely for your pleasure tonight, Jeremy. I want to be your sex slave. I want to make your every fantasy a reality ... tonight. I do not care what your fantasy is, either. I will do anything for you."

"Anything?" I wondered, my eyebrows temporarily raised.

"Anything."

"How about this, dear?" I countered. "I want to make you happy. Why don't you use me for your pleasure tonight?" It probably was not all that often when someone actually refused a personal offer from Amy to use her as his or her plaything. In fact, I am quite certain that I was the first to do so. But, I am a very unique (and sometimes strange) individual.

Amy looked surprised at the rejection, but stepped forward and attached her lips to mine for yet another heated kiss. I responded immediately by wrapping both arms around her hot, curvaceous body, again pulling her close and luxuriating in the feel of her firm, large breasts on my chest.

Our mouths still entwined as one - with our tongues dancing - Amy placed a hand upon my chest and gently pushed forward until I was laying on the bed. The kiss between us as she then leaned over and straddled my body intensified once Amy wrapped both arms around my shoulders and clutched them tightly. I could easily get used to this...

I moved my hands to both of Amy's bare breasts and began to eagerly maul them, groping and squeezing the big globes with reckless abandon. Amy tilted her head to the side above me, her tongue running wild and free within my mouth. My only response for that was to literally jam my own tongue down her throat, wanting to forever lose myself there.

"I enjoy a good, hard fuck," Amy purred, as I then moved my lips to her breasts and kissed each succulent nipple. Of course, her words had an immediate impact on me. I felt my cock getting erect again. "Fuck me hard, Jeremy."

I gulped my throat at those words before asking, "But you do enjoy a bit of foreplay before that too, right?"

"Oh yeah," she cooed, my tongue now flicking itself over and across a hardened nipple. "I like it a lot. I'm just not all that used to it ... you know. I prefer my sex HARD."

Burying my face in the lush, deepened valley between her breasts, I moaned out loud while trailing my tongue over and through Amy's scrumptious cleavage. "I like it hard, too, dear. Don't worry ... I'll take good care of you tonight."

Amy's body trembled with desire as I kissed my way from her cleavage to her midriff, and then her abdomen. I paused for a quick moment, tracing the tip of my tongue in circles around her navel before dabbing it inside.

"I like that..." she squealed, arching both her back and neck in response to my forward actions. I twirled her body around and then pinned her beneath me upon the mattress.

After pulling the corduroy miniskirt upward and bunching it around her waist, my lips and tongue glided lower, only coming to a stop at the silken joining of her thighs. Amy's entire body tensed as I gently extended my tongue and swiped away at her swollen clitoris. I brushed the little nub with my tongue several times before asking in a gentle tone, "How many men and women have been this close to your pussy, dear? Tell me. How many have experienced it?"

"Oh God..." the red-head answered, lost in thought for a couple of seconds. "I think... 37 men, and 11 women. Yes. That is how many people I've had all-out sex with."

I smiled, thinking to myself that Amy was definitely not a virgin. The bloom went off this rose long ago, but that was perfectly fine to me. I then had a provocative question, but felt safe in assuming that it would not offend her. Not my Amy. "Have you ever charged anyone to have sex with you? Made money off of your body?"

Amy gulped her throat and answered, "A time or two ... or ten." She glanced away for a brief moment, shielding her face from me (in shame?), and added, "It's been a long time. I ... I had a boyfriend eight, ten years ago. We didn't have a lot of money, so he would rent me out to others for a couple of hours, maybe a day or two, at a time."

"Rent you out?" Never had I heard such a vulgar term. I could easily imagine Amy agreeing to such a thing, though.

She nodded her head. "Yes. Times were tight and we did what we needed to survive." Amy bit her lip, trying to hide a little smile. But she failed. "I kind of liked it."

"I know you did!" Of course this particular woman would enjoy a man - her boyfriend, noless - finding others for her to not only have sex with, but get paid for it in the process. I did not hold it against Amy, or look down upon her, in the slightest for it. It was not my cup of tea and I did not find the idea or scenario appealing, but I did not mind. Why? This was one of the many wonderful things that simply made Amy ... Amy.

"What can I say?" she countered. "I'm a slut. I once was gang-banged by 10 men ... all at the same time. I'm a slut! I took them all on, and I still wanted more!"

I moaned wildly at those words while nuzzling her clitoris with my lips and tugging it very gently before countering, "I think that you have a beautiful pussy, dear." I swiped away at the exposed area once again. "Enjoy your sex hard, huh?"

"I certainly do," she grinned, nodding her head.

"Let's make you happy, then."

"I also thought, back when I was in high school, that it was my job to give all of the boys their first kiss." Amy giggled and added, "I gave a lot of them their first blowjob, too. God ... I've probably sucked off over a hundred guys."

"Is that something that you are proud of, dear?"

"Yes!" Of course...

Amy grunted with obvious anticipation as I forcefully mounted her in the missionary position. My cock fully hard and erect, I fisted it and prepared for entrance. I used my opposite arm to securely hook Amy's beautiful legs over my shoulders. Then, it was finally time to sink my throbbing shaft into the tight confines of the vixen's little pussy.

I did just so, burying the entire length of my cock into her. And WOW ... did she feel wonderful! It felt as if I had stuck my full erection into a slippery vise, which was trying to squeeze the absolute life out of it.

"Oooooh yeah," Amy growled, already starting to display some heated emotion of her own. "That feels GOOD..."

Her words and noises of loud passion only intensified once I started to thrust myself in-and-out of her. Wasting no time whatsoever, I was hammering away at her voluptuous body as hard as I possibly could from the very outset. This was, needless to say, what Amy wanted me to do.

Amy continued to scream and wail out in approval as she then wrapped both arms around my shoulders. She held on tight as her lovely, enchanting face began to rock from side-to-side in a constant, repeated motion. It was very obvious that she enjoyed rough, physical sex like this.

I was grunting and growling like a wild animal, focusing all of my attention onto Amy and my ability to blast her pussy as hard as humanly possible. I think I was very successful in doing so, too. I knew my hips could not move any faster. Plus, watching the priceless expression on Amy's face as I drilled her insides was something else.

The nymphomaniac's pussy felt so incredibly tight and luscious on my cock that I really never wanted to pull myself out of it. Would there be a way for me to dive right in there, and never come out? That was my only thought at this exact moment in time.

Amy's slender neck and back were now arched as she continued to cry out in her own desire and passion. The squealy, high-pitched sounds she made, combined with the incredible amount of sexual heat and friction on my cock, was enough to finally push me over the edge of release.

I blasted my way into those nether folds one final time before letting out a long-winded growl of ultimate desire. I could feel the thick sperm just pulsing outward from my cock, filling and flooding Amy's hot, thirsty pussy. She squirmed and writhed about beneath me, while continuing to voice and moan out her own, unadultered approval.

Just when my orgasm had reached its apex and began to simmer down, Amy experienced one of her own. She screamed and embraced me even tighter than before, and then her voluptuous body shook and rumbled about in joyous release.

"OH GOD!" Amy exclaimed, clutching me tightly.

When it was over, my cock was still embedded within the seductress' pussy as I settled down on top of her. I took a deep breath and offered Amy an appreciative kiss, before flashing her a smile. "You were marvelous, dear."

"Oh yes..." she sighed, obviously still caught up in the joyous aftermath of orgasm. "I loved it, Jeremy..."

When Amy slithered out from underneath me and rolled onto her side, I noticed that she had a far-away look in her eyes, with a drop of sperm running out of the corner of her mouth. I reached out and wiped the drop away, then she immediately licked the finger dry I had used to do so. Amy had made me feel so good that my body actually ached.

I smiled at her. "Were you able to unwind for a bit? Isn't that what you wanted? To get rid of the tension?"

"Oh yes," she replied in an emphatic tone, before getting up and reaching for her blouse. She slipped it on and then buttoned it up, covering her luscious, heaving breasts at the same time. Now suddenly deflated as it seemed she may leave me, my senses then perked up a bit as Amy leaned over and planted a warm, loving kiss upon my mouth.

"You're not spending the night?" I asked, crestfallen. However, that may not be such a bad thing. I really needed to get to sleep. This woman had totally worn me out. If she had elected to keep me company overnight, how could I possibly sleep with that magnificent body of hers so close? I would hold and cherish her all night long, and not get a single wink of sleep.

"I'd love to stay and fuck the night away," Amy swooned. "But I told Pamela that we could stay up tonight, and talk. Pamela logged a good nine hours in the air today just like I did. I want to catch her before she falls asleep."

"Understood," I said, nodding my head. "Remember, though, there is a meeting tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. It is mandatory, so don't stay up too late."

Amy grinned and purred like a kitten. She made a motion to turn and walk away, but apparently changed her mind and glided right back into bed with me. The feisty bombshell settled down on top of me and found my mouth with her own for another incredible, searing kiss. I managed to cop a quick feel or two of her ass, but then she sprung upward and was standing before me. I do not know exactly where this had originated from, or what triggered it, but I had a sudden (and very unique) request for her...

"This was ... this was incredible," I began. "Amy, I ... I need ... I need something ... to remember this night. I want to remember it forever." My eyes then focused on that tiny, little brown corduroy miniskirt she had used to tease me so much earlier. "Your skirt. Please let me have it."

Amy had a quizzical expression upon her face. "My skirt? What are you going to do with it? What possible reason would you have to want my skirt?"

"I just want to keep it," was my honest response. "I want it to help me remember this night, and that it happened. This was the most incredible night of my life - bar none. And you are one truly incredible woman. Please? Please, let me have it. I'll take good care of it for you. I ... I will never forget you bending over for me the way you did ... in that skirt. Please me have it as a keepsake."

Amy smiled, but still seemed a bit skeptical. "If I give you my skirt, what will I wear in going back to my room with Pamela? I'll be half-naked going through this big mansion."

"Is that a problem for you?" I laughed.

"You've got a point," she conceded, already slinking the miniskirt down her shapely hips and thighs. Once it hit the floor, the 30-year-old goddess stepped out of it and kicked it upward, catching it with her right hand.

Amy leaned over and handed me the skirt, pressing her lips to mine for one final kiss. She then flashed a brilliant smile and waved her hand at me. "See you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, too," I returned. "Take care, Amy ... sleep well, and tell Pamela that I said hello. And thank you. Thank you very much."


After Amy left my personal suite, I made certain that the door was securely closed and locked behind her, and went straight to the voyeur room. Once there, I turned on the monitor for the camera in my adjacent bedroom. I pressed Amy's miniskirt to my nose and sniffed it, happy that she had given me a souvenir, then loaded up footage from moments ago and salivated at the explicit images I saw.

There I was with Amy - on the television monitor - as her head bobbed up-and-down over my cock. I fast-forwarded and then watched my hips, literally a blur, as I forged my way into her pussy in a repeated, furious manner. Seconds later, I was filling and flooding her insides with my sperm.

Although all of the erotic footage was archived on my computer system, I burned a DVD copy of the whole encounter anyway. This way, I could watch it someplace other than the voyeur room. It sure would be something to be able to watch Amy's seduction of me on the theater screen in my suite...

The thought then occurred to me that I had witnessed several sides of Amy today. At various times she was nice and friendly (her discussion with Pamela in their suite earlier), while at others she was cold and abrasive (wanting to get Lindsay drunk, for example). She had plenty of wild, brash stories to tell, and obviously craved attention.

After showing up at my door, Amy went from being overly flirtatious, to downright submissive, then finished with an edge that bordered on aggression. What to make of her? Not only did she seem to have a lot of facets to her personality, but Amy could flip-flop between them with absolute ease at a moment's notice. I wanted to learn much more about her...

This was just the ladies' first night on the island. I had six whole weeks to look forward to! Six beautiful women, all of whom were bi-sexual (or at least had the interest), and me. How long would it be before Camille convinced Devon to fulfill that fantasy by inviting me into a three-some with them? Just the simple thought of submerging myself between two ladies with the looks and class of Devon and Camille sent my mind racing with lust.

Pamela was the very buxom and enchanting stripper from Baltimore. Would I one day get lucky, and be the recipient of a lap dance from her? When would Trish make her first move on me? Or would she at all? Would Amy blab and inform everyone about the passionate encounter that she and I just shared? I figured that everyone would know about it by the morning. Women do like to gossip, right?

And, of course, I could never forget sweet, innocent Lindsay. She came to the island as a virgin but that, of course, was probably about to change. Who would get the honor of popping Lindsay's virginal cherry? Trish seemed to have the inside track since they were room-mates, but I wanted to throw my hat into the mix, too. I would treat the little angel like a true princess if she were to afford me the opportunity to be the person who took her virginity. Much like Trish, I would consider it to be a great honor. It would be the greatest honor of my life to date, in fact.

All of these questions - and many more like them - would be answered in the coming days and weeks. More than anything else, however, I had to remind myself of why I had brought all of these enchanting women here in the first place. It was not for endless and mindless hours of sex, although, I must admit, that sounded quite appealing.

"To hopefully find the girl of my dreams, and then marry her," I said out loud, glancing at the monitor for Devon and Camille's guest suite. Both lovely ladies were sleeping in separate beds, so I doubt anything happened between them tonight. That was unfortunate, but predictable. Amy was having a discussion with Pamela in their suite, while in room three, Lindsay was already fast asleep as Trish lounged in bed and read a magazine about physical fitness and yoga. Hmmmmm ... I secretly wondered if Trish would meet up with Mr. Happy again before the evening was through.

Deciding that it was time to finally catch some sleep of my own, I shook my head and smiled at all of the images before me. "These six weeks are going to be really fun."

Oh ... and did I mention that Amy was my new favorite?

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