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Shipwrecked Beauty
In was on my back when the storm started, legs spread, and a wealthy producer on top of me. I mean, it seemed a great way to spend a cruise. And as his throbbing hard cock was pounding into my tight little slit, I barely even noticed as the weather began to make that giant vessel rock.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said between moans and grunts. And I tried not to. I was a hot girl, on a pretty exclusive cruise here… and this guy might actually be able to get me a sweet acting gig, or at least some more modeling jobs.
Besides, it’d been forever since I’d had a good fuck.
He was pretty cute, for a producer, and I was more than willing to ignore the storm for our little tryst, the sounds of his body slapping against mine filling the air. I needed a man inside me... not that he cared what I needed. I could tell that once he robbed my pussy of his dick and put his honey flavoured cock in my mouth without a care in the world.
I just had no idea it was about to get a whole lot worse.
Once the windows smashed in, there was no more pretending the storm wasn’t a big deal. Even though the guy actually tried to keep me down on his dick, blowing him.
“Fuck! I’m so close,” he said, still grasping my hair. But I pulled away.
“We’ve gotta go!” I cried out, pulling on my tiny little swimsuit as he glared and complained—even as water gushed into the room, my scream drowned out by the sound.
I ran to the door before he could get there, pulling it open. Another wave of water rushed in, hitting me, knocking me face down. I’d have been embarrassed if the sounds of screams weren’t setting me into a full on panic.
Mr. Producer, however, just ran over me and headed off.
“Hey wait!” I called out, before another wave of ocean water went over the side of the MS Long Shaft and had me sputtering.
A big man in nothing but shorts stopped by me as I struggled to catch my breath. He bent down, and just picked me up, like I was little more than some piece of luggage. As I choked for breath and cleared my eyes I could see he was big alright, but in that tall, dark and handsome kinda way, with a sculpted, muscular body that generally only graces gym ads.
He didn’t say anything to me, he just went on. As another wave battered us, he gripped the railing with his free hand, his muscular forearm keeping me safe against him. I could see ahead, Mr. Producer lowering down one of the life rafts before we could get to him, but my attempt at a shout was choked with salt water.
And before my tall, dark and handsome saviour could get us to the life rafts, a wave larger than life crashed into the cruise ship.
*****
The next thing I remember was the feeling of hot sun on my skin, and a pair of full lips on mine. It was sweet… until I felt the lips pull away and pressure on my chest.
I choked up water, and realized I wasn’t being kissed in my sleep, but being saved from choking.
“Oh god!” I managed to say, after coughing up all the water in my lungs, twisting to my side.
It was day time, alright, morning by the looks of it as I returned to consciousness. The clouds were gone, and we were on some unknown beach. But most importantly, my saviour was over me. That big, tall, dark stranger, wearing nothing but slick, glistening shorts that clung to his round ass and hefty package, though even they sported a rip that left them precarious.
I was transfixed on him for a moment, his abs impeccable, his pecs sporting a little scar, but it just made him look rugged as well as handsome. His face was broad jawed, chiseled just like his body, and he looked at me with the stern demeanor of a father overseeing a troubled child.
“You okay?” he asked me in that deep, dark, rumbly voice of his, brushing back my wet hair.
“How did you...” I managed, my memory of what happened fuzzy.
There was a storm, my thoughts slowly came back to me, and I glanced around the beach again. “Is this St. Lucia?” I asked hazily. That was where our ship was supposed to dock. Did we make it?
My handsome saviour pulled back as he saw I was able to breath, and he sat upon his knees for a moment. I could see in the sand the footprints of him hauling me out of the ocean. It must not have even been that long since he’d carried me ashore.
“No, this ain’t St. Lucia, sweetie,” he said to me in that deep, masculine voice of his. “For that matter, I don’t know where we are,” he remarked, pushing himself up onto one knee even as his own chest still heaved. He must’ve been busy trying to swim us to shore the whole night, since I saw no sign of a raft or boat, but still he didn’t seem to want to stop.
“We’re on some unknown island,” he explained as he brushed his hands off and stood there, easily six foot five, if not taller. “I saw your boyfriend’s lifeboat head to shore over that way in the night. But if you ask me, the prick doesn’t deserve you,” he said, pointed down the shore, past sandy beaches and around jutting series of palm trees.
Despite rankling at the idea of that dick I’d only just met the day before the cruise being my boyfriend, I felt a twinge of panic as my saviour started to walk off towards to the island’s jungle. His damp body glistening in the sun, highlighting every muscle, the tear in his shorts showing off his thick, round ass cheek on one side.
I pushed myself up, my hand digging into the sand as I watched him.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I protested, the offense mingling with my desire to not be alone. I didn’t want him to leave me. Not after he just saved me from... It was too heinous to even think about!
I scrambled to my feet, surprised to find my bathing suit was mostly intact. As much so as a skimpy white suit with ample cutouts to show off my stomach and hips could be.
His long dark hair was swept back and wet, and he had the look of a real, rugged man as he bravely strode to the trees. He spared me a brief look as I called out and began to follow him.
“Damn right he’s not. I saw how he just abandoned you,” he remarked, distaste showing in the gravelly way he said that. But he kept focussed, finding an outcropping of rocks, and methodically searching them until he found one with a sharp edge. And then immediately using it to begin hacking off a branch. It was like this man was built to survive, even if I didn’t know how or why he was doing those things.
But he looked damn sexy doing it too. I could watch those muscles bulge all day, and judging by the way he gave me another look, he was pretty pleased with my tight body in this little swimsuit too. Even if he, unlike me, was multitasking fashioning a spear.
So I did what I do best, and I struck a pose. The least I could do was give him something fun to
look at as he worked, and as I stared at him working.
“What are you doing?” I asked, pushing back some of my still wet hair. The sea salt was going to give me the hottest beachy waves, so maybe it wasn’t all bad, being away from my endless supply of beauty products.
“Making a spear, for fishing,” he said, pausing to inspect the pointed tip he’d just carved before looking me back up and down again. “Gonna need some protein to survive here,” he said, testing the tip with his thumb.
He was about to head off but he paused, and looked me over again.
“That jerk who abandoned you had a lifeboat. There’ll be a supple of emergency rations in it,” he said gruffly, before reaching out, placing one of those big, powerful hands he’d used to lift me up and save my life. “Listen,” he said, leaning in close, “I’m not waiting around to be saved. And you may not be that coward’s girl, but you ain’t mine either. I saved your life, but I’m not looking to be a caretaker. If you want to stick with me, I need you to pull your weight, or…” he trailed off.
