Castaway Island
Copyright© 2025 by Taoman
Chapter 13
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13 - Three women and a man are castaways on a Pacific Island after their plane crashes. This is a redo of my work, Master's Island, which I posted 25 years ago. The younger girls are both 19 now, and I have changed the pirates to a no ethnic specific description. The story has also been expanded and rethought.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Coercion Reluctant Slavery Heterosexual Fiction DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Harem First Oral Sex Big Breasts
Taylor split a fillet and passed the halves to the two girls. The girls were wide-eyed as they closely watched him serve the food.
A single drop of hot fish oil slid from Brittany’s piece and landed high on the slope of her left breast.
It paused there a moment, gleaming in the firelight, then began its slow journey downward—tracing the soft curve, following gravity toward the tight pink nipple.
Brittany froze, mouth open mid-bite, eyes following the drop’s path. Her hand went up to wipe away the drop and paused. She glanced at him, realizing that would be a provocative action, smearing grease on her bare breast.
Taylor’s gaze was fixed on it, unblinking.
The drop reached her nipple, clung for a heartbeat, then fell to the sand.
Brittany’s face flamed crimson. He met her eyes. His gaze was dark, hungry, utterly focused on her.
The embarrassment flooded her, hot and sharp, but beneath it something else stirred: a deep, helpless thrill that he was watching her so openly, that her body—her breasts, always the thing men stared at—was now the center of his world.
Jennifer glanced sideways, a knowing smile curving her lips, but she said nothing, just took another slow bite.
Taylor’s voice was low, almost a growl.
“Beautiful.”
Brittany’s blush deepened, but she didn’t cover herself.
She couldn’t.
Not anymore.
Then the night exploded.
A shriek of pure animal fury split the air.
Kimberly burst into the firelight like a hurricane, hair wild, eyes blazing, the flimsy original fish spear—the one Taylor had made weeks ago from a crude aluminum shard and bamboo—leveled straight at his chest.
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