ToolmanTim
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2007
- Posts
- 701
It had been a week. Only a week? Already a week? Both thoughts came unbidden to Mike.
One week ago he had been on a chartered plane flying over the pacific. He was a college student, twenty-one years old and just finished junior year, on summer break. He was taking this opportunity to see the world. Just wandering the globe, going wherever he could afford, walking and hitchhiking mostly. He'd gotten the ticket to get on the plane through a phone app that filled seats that would otherwise be empty. So it was a cheap ticket for him.
And what a great flight it had looked like it was going to be. Stuck in long trans-pacific flight with three beautiful women. Not that he was bad looking himself. Six foot tall, athletic build, short black hair, blue eyes. They'd made small talk at the start of the flight and the girls were certainly nice enough, but soon enough they had all retreated into the comfort of the books and magazines they had all brought. After his recent break up it was nice to chat with three different beautiful women at the same time, even if it was likely leading no where.
Then came the engine trouble. Mike had thought it was turbulence at first. Then the pilot came back into the cabin and broke out the parachutes. It seemed like only seconds later the four passengers were jumping out of the airplane and floating down to the sea near an island with nothing but an emergency kit the pilot had strapped to Mike.
Once they 'landed' in the sea, Mike helped the girls out of their parachutes and then they all swam together to the island. They walked to the shade of a tree and rested, recovering out of the sun.
Mike opened the emergency kit. There was a flare gun and three flares, a knife and some para-cord rope, and a first aid kit. That first day he had built a shelter. It wasn't much, just a room big enough for the four of them to fit under a roof if they were all touching each other as they lay down.
Cozy was the word. Or squashed. However you looked at it, Mike was squished up against tits and asses and had one hell of a boner all night long, something the girls couldn't help but notice. It was a beautiful kind of torture. He wasn't going to make a move and make the girls uncomfortable.
The rest of the week had gone pretty easy. They watched the sky for planes so they could signal them with the flare gun. They gathered fruit from the trees on the island. Mike built a spear and went fishing in the ocean, so some nights they had fish. He built a crude lobster trap. It worked once, so one night they had lobster over a fire. And they all slept together in the shelter, squashed together, breasts and asses pressed against him and Mike's giant erection tenting out in his pants. It was a nice enough week.
But after a week with no planes in the sky it became obvious this island was not under a well traveled route. The hope of being rescued grew distant. Tensions were rising and something had to give.
Mike was sitting under a tree, in the shade, working on a second lobster trap when one of the girls approached him. Mike was wearing only his boxers. His shirt and pants had been rinsed in the ocean and were hanging up on the para-chord line he had strung between two trees.
One week ago he had been on a chartered plane flying over the pacific. He was a college student, twenty-one years old and just finished junior year, on summer break. He was taking this opportunity to see the world. Just wandering the globe, going wherever he could afford, walking and hitchhiking mostly. He'd gotten the ticket to get on the plane through a phone app that filled seats that would otherwise be empty. So it was a cheap ticket for him.
And what a great flight it had looked like it was going to be. Stuck in long trans-pacific flight with three beautiful women. Not that he was bad looking himself. Six foot tall, athletic build, short black hair, blue eyes. They'd made small talk at the start of the flight and the girls were certainly nice enough, but soon enough they had all retreated into the comfort of the books and magazines they had all brought. After his recent break up it was nice to chat with three different beautiful women at the same time, even if it was likely leading no where.
Then came the engine trouble. Mike had thought it was turbulence at first. Then the pilot came back into the cabin and broke out the parachutes. It seemed like only seconds later the four passengers were jumping out of the airplane and floating down to the sea near an island with nothing but an emergency kit the pilot had strapped to Mike.
Once they 'landed' in the sea, Mike helped the girls out of their parachutes and then they all swam together to the island. They walked to the shade of a tree and rested, recovering out of the sun.
Mike opened the emergency kit. There was a flare gun and three flares, a knife and some para-cord rope, and a first aid kit. That first day he had built a shelter. It wasn't much, just a room big enough for the four of them to fit under a roof if they were all touching each other as they lay down.
Cozy was the word. Or squashed. However you looked at it, Mike was squished up against tits and asses and had one hell of a boner all night long, something the girls couldn't help but notice. It was a beautiful kind of torture. He wasn't going to make a move and make the girls uncomfortable.
The rest of the week had gone pretty easy. They watched the sky for planes so they could signal them with the flare gun. They gathered fruit from the trees on the island. Mike built a spear and went fishing in the ocean, so some nights they had fish. He built a crude lobster trap. It worked once, so one night they had lobster over a fire. And they all slept together in the shelter, squashed together, breasts and asses pressed against him and Mike's giant erection tenting out in his pants. It was a nice enough week.
But after a week with no planes in the sky it became obvious this island was not under a well traveled route. The hope of being rescued grew distant. Tensions were rising and something had to give.
Mike was sitting under a tree, in the shade, working on a second lobster trap when one of the girls approached him. Mike was wearing only his boxers. His shirt and pants had been rinsed in the ocean and were hanging up on the para-chord line he had strung between two trees.
