Chapter 11

Sheila and Patrick lay wrapped in each other’s arms inside the tiny cave hidden from sight by the overhanging foliage that made it entirely invisible to a cursory glance.

The young Marine’s oversexed dick was resting at ease between her delectable flanks like a coiled serpent waiting for some signal to strike hard and deep at a nearby target.

They had copulated extensively throughout the darkened nocturnal hours doing their very best to keep their sounds of excited passion muted to the outside of the tiny burrow in the landscape.

The battle hardened Marine knew that the most dangerous times were in the early morning hours and just before dark when the Japanese patrols were skulking in the jungle hoping to catch the escapees off guard thinking they were safe in the wilderness.

Sheila was still in a deep sleep exhausted from their nocturnal wrestling that sapped her strength in a most beguiling manner. The alert Marine studied her outlined form thinking how lucky he was to have her as his companion in their jungle hideout.

Of course, he knew she was a nun and had taken a vow of chastity but he figured that this situation was above and beyond normal circumstances and their relationship was only a reflection of their mutual will to survive and live on to resume their normal lives at a later date after all was said and done.

He had been circumspect in using her anal entrance most of the time to avoid any chance of an unplanned conception and in those cases when vaginal insertion was their mutual desire he carefully withdrew before he released his manly juices inside her baby making channel.

Still, he knew that was not foolproof, but they did their best to reduce the chance of pregnancy because it would create an impossible situation for the both of them to overcome in their fugitive state of borderline survival.

Lately, the big boned Marine had noticed the guards were furtively seeking places to corner the female prisoners in a one on one situation and using their bodies to relieve their frustration at a sex starved existence.

Apparently, the news from home was depressing the Japanese morale and they had turned to taking it out on the prisoners acting without orders from above. At closer inspection, he came to the conclusion that the female prisoners were using the needs of the guards to get extra food and other perks as reward for their cooperation.

At the same time, the executions had all but ceased because the officers were far more caught up in their own personal emotions at the news from home.

Then, there came the day when more and more aircraft overhead were allied rather than enemy and he knew the Japanese occupying force was increasingly concerned with hiding their presence than celebrating their long lost air superiority.

When the following Wednesday went by without the customary re-supply ship with food and equipment for the detachment, he sensed a change of mood in the attitude of the guards that almost screamed desperation instead of pompous confidence.

He knew the end was near when a Japanese patrol boat came ashore in the bay and they took the commanding officer and all the other officer with them leaving the prisoners and the enlisted men behind to fend for themselves.

Some of the prisoners fled into the jungle and others joined the male guards in open display of solidarity. The enlisted men quickly lost all sense of discipline and they opening copulated with the female prisoners on the sandy beach with drunken joy after raiding the supply hut for the stores of sake and other spirits. He saw that most of the men ceased to carry their weapons on their daily chores and they stopped any pretense at exercise or military duties.

Then, he realized that the Japanese patrols were far less than random, they had stopped entirely.

To celebrate, he rutted with the guilt ridden nun right in the middle of the day not inside the cave, but outside in the glorious sun on the rocky shoal right next to the fast running river that emptied out into the salty water of the bay far below.

The birds made their myriad calling songs above them in the lush green foliage of the jungle trees. He was able to watch his Sheila’s sleek flanks quivering between his muscular legs like a human snake writhing in frustrated ecstasy underneath his thrusting body throwing her head with her luminous dark hair in every direction in tune with his inserted sword of manly desire that sought to penetrate her juicy core.

They were both silent and on full alert against any Japanese incursion despite his conviction that the time for continued hostility was in the past.

He knew the dreadful war had passed their island paradise and marched on to its terrible end of twisted bodies and an eternity of lost dreams.

Yet, he knew this was reality.

The reality of a constant struggle to defeat the stress of rough living in the jungle environment. The reality of the ever-present enemy with their obsession to find all escapees and cut off their heads in ritual ceremony.

That was one thing they had in common with the native headhunters who did it to show their power as a warrior in defeating anyone or anything not in their traditional culture and therefore an enemy to be eliminated without mercy.