This is the end of a series. Without reading Chapters 4 and 5, it might not make much sense, given Ginny’s experiences while on vacation. Don’t forget to vote for each and send feedback!

* * * * *

I slept apart from JJ and Luala the night after my gang bang in Lulu’s poolroom, afraid that I might spread some awful tropical disease if I let down my guard and had sex with them. Instead, I lay awake in the other room and heard their passionate whimpers and groans as they found their pleasure without me. When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were filled with awful images of me being raped to nearly to death by an endless procession of evil, gold-toothed island demons…all with lumpy, green-colored faces. They were reflections of the day’s reality…except for the elements of rape and death. Though drunk, I’d been quite willing to take on all those men and had been driven crazy by fucking them in public, thinking that I’d die from pleasure by doing it in front of so many others. I tossed and turned continually during my dreams, and awoke in the morning with wet fingers in my crotch and a sore rectum from the previous afternoon’s repeated, brutal use of my ass.

I was up early, though, and fixed us all breakfast, much to the surprise of JJ and Luala, to whom I didn’t reveal the bawdy secrets of the previous day. Both of them looked so clean compared to the way I felt, and were a most unlikely pairing…a handsome, mid-50s, mature white man and a gorgeous, late teen, Asian island girl. They both ate ravenously, replenishing what I knew was exhausted sexual energy leached from their bodies during the night…in JJ’s case with the help of Viagra. As we finished our meal, I was reflecting on the way we’d live together in our California house, after Luala returned with us to enter the university.

But that thought was interrupted as my attendant, Muana, stuck her head in the front door and announced, “Phone call, Ginny!”

I’d thrown on a pair of shorts and a crop top after my morning shower, and raced to the enclosure housing the village phone lines. “Ginny?” said Nick’s deep, sexy tones on the other end. “I got the results of your tests, and…”

“Yeah, Nick!” I gasped, as my vitals froze, anticipating the worst…contracting a sexual disease from my one-woman orgy of the day before at Lulu’s.

“You’re clean…everything’s negative,” he said. “But, the doc suggests that you continue with the antibiotics ’til you get home and get re-tested there, just in case.”

“Thank Gawd,” I muttered, clutching at my hammering heart. In a few moments I uttered, “Nick. Nick! I’m so grateful! I’ve been such a fool! How can I ever thank you! Will I see you before we leave? We’re flying out Sunday night!”

“Expect a miracle, Ginny,” he said, in the most reassuring tones I’d ever heard. Jeezus! One sound of this guy’s voice and I’d follow him anywhere! I thought. “If you don’t see me, I’ll call when I get to the mainland. I get to the States once or twice a year.”

“The college has JJ’s contact info!” I bleated. “Please don’t forget…and…Nick…thanks again, so much!”

“Sure, Ginny…my pleasure…buh-bye,” and the line clicked off.

For some reason, tears were forming in my eyes as I replaced the receiver. I hurt deeply in my lower belly, from an unlikely longing that I hadn’t felt in years…since JJ and I had first begun our affair and I’d been unable to have him all the time. I’d really been impressed with Nick and had thought of him since I’d awakened. But I collected myself, threw my shoulders back, and walked back to our vacation bungalow, telling myself to stop acting like a schoolgirl.

Anu, the Chief’s son, was standing outside the entrance, waiting for me. I hadn’t seen him for more than two minutes since our feverish few days of fucking days before. “You go…’Mer-kuh,” he mumbled, piercing deeply into my soul with his eyes. “Come back?” he asked. “Be Queen?”

“Oh, Anu…I’m not worthy,” I gasped, at which he looked at me quizzically, not understanding. We dropped down to sit on the hut’s elevated lanai for a half-hour, with me doing most of the talking. At the end, I said, “I’ll always remember you…feel you…but…,” and I grasped his hand. I held his arm next to mine, thinking that our different skin colors might be the easiest way to explain my spurning of his love. Though I’d gotten a deep tan, the contrast in color was striking, given his rich, dark brown body. “My people need me,” I said, pointing to my forearm, “…and your people need you,” I continued, pointing to his. Then I placed my hand over my heart for a moment and touched my fingers lightly to his lips.

Anu looked down, squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, seeming to stifle a tear, and looked back at me with moist eyes. “I give you…me,” he said, and handed me an oblong package, wrapped in the broad leaf of a jungle plant. I opened it and was stunned. It was a long piece of polished, purple mahogany, meticulously hand-carved, of his erect cock and balls, complete ankara escort with ringlets of pubic hair. Even the foreskin behind the head looked so lifelike that I wanted to put it in my mouth. It was a perfect rendering of his princely sexual package, and I immediately moistened. He’d carved it for me! And, though we were sitting on the front porch, I stifled an impulse to throw myself on him and fuck ourselves to orgasm in front of our village neighbors.

Re-wrapping the beautiful object, I held it to my bosom and murmured, “I’ll cherish your gift always,” and once again touched his lips with my fingers.

With that, he rose, gathered himself, and said, “I go…build canoe,” and strode toward the beach, out of my life, probably forever.

I was shaken as I walked inside, past JJ and Luala, and flopped down on the bed in the second room, my eyes once again leaking tears as I clutched Anu’s hardwood dildo. This was not going to be a good day, I thought. All of my indiscretions seemed to be catching up with me at once. And, sure enough – as if I’d predicted it – around mid-morning I heard the unmistakable sounds of Sam’s motorcycle outside our bungalow. “JJ!” I yelled to my father-in-law in the next room, who was editing dirty fuck pictures of me on his laptop, “I’m in miserable shape and will need your support with Sam!” I got up slowly, wondering why I’d been born, and walked out front to talk with the young island stud who’d gotten drunk and left me at the mercy of the rapacious gang of truck drivers at Lulu’s bar the day before. As I passed JJ, I pleaded, “Close the porn film deal with Sam when I ask you to, okay? I need to talk with him first, uuh…personally.”

“Sure, kiddo,” he said.

“God, Ginny, I really fucked up. I’m so sorry,” said Sam.

“That’s okay, guy. I’m a big girl,” I said, with bravado, though I felt angry with him, especially since my ass hurt as much as my pride. I’d lost count of how many times I’d been viciously sodomized by his acquaintances, the crew of native truck drivers who worked in the kava fields.

“Yeah, but, I wanna make it up ta ya…”.

“Sam!” I interrupted. “What’s between us from now on is strictly business…the porno film business. JJ will explain it all to you. Right now I’ve got stuff to do…with Andi an’…JJ!” I called out.

JJ ambled outside and I said to him, “Explain our film deal to Sam, will you? I’ve gotta, uuh…get ready for tonight.” Turning again to Sam, I said, perhaps more curtly than I should have, “We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon…if you’re driving us to the airport. If you’re not, I’ll e-mail you at the college, okay? I gave him a quick, sisterly hug, a passionless kiss on the lips, and said, “See ya!”

I walked back inside, trembling, then continued out the back door to the outdoor toilet, and felt like I was going to vomit my breakfast into the bowl. Instead, I sat on it until my stomach spasms passed, and tried to piece together the conflicting events of the past couple of weeks. I peed finally and, as it made its swishing sound, I thought of the absurd way that my pussy had governed my behavior…not only during our vacation, but for years! Once I’d been thought of as intelligent, and I think JJ still considered me so. But, whenever I was away from him it seemed that my brains migrated to my cunt! I vowed at that moment that, once stateside, I’d see a therapist who specialized in sexual disorders. Seriously, I was in deep, obsessive trouble. As I wiped myself clean, I rationalized that such self-realizations as these were what vacations were all about.

Luala, Andi and I spent a few hours together, starting to weave together what I hoped would be a nurturing three-part relationship in our California home for the next few years. In late afternoon it became time for JJ and I to prepare for our evening dinner party. I then lost myself in one of the activities at which I seemed best…decorating my body for the ceaselessly horny male of the species. Luala helped me. JJ had told me she was already on the company payroll. Privately, I wondered how she justified in her mind being paid equal amounts to help me shower and brush my hair to a glittering sheen…and bring JJ – and sometimes me – to orgasm in the middle of the night. It was as if she were a “lady in waiting,” as well as a nanny for my daughter, and a mistress for JJ. Was it right? I reflected. I didn’t know. But, of course, I was a vulgar American, not a sophisticated Asian, and still had a lot to learn about such things.

JJ was familiar with fancy dinner parties. I was not, and as the day wore on I grew increasingly nervous. I decided to wear a rather formal looking, stretchy, dark blue knit dress, highlighted with strands of silver in the weave. It had full-length sleeves and a straight-cut neck at my throat. Its skirt was a wraparound type, starting underneath at my right hip, encircling me and fastening at the left hip, overlapping the opening completely. Below the waist, it clung revealingly to my bottom. Yet, escort ankara only in the most revealing sitting position would my legs be exposed at all – unless I wanted them to be – in which case they could be revealed to my crotch. The designer garment made me feel very sexy underneath. It clung nicely to my upper body, emphasizing my breasts, yet – superficially – it was very modest and tasteful.

The back of the dress was a different story. Though it stopped in front at my throat, behind my shoulder line it scooped open widely to end in a vee just inches above my butt crack. In effect, then, most of my back – rather nicely-muscled and tanned if I must say so – was nude from shoulders to ass, even showing my gluteal dimples…which was why JJ had bought me the very revealing thing in the first place. In a deceptive attempt at camouflaging the fully open back, the designer had attached two narrow pieces of the dress’s material at the front shoulder line, which could either be tied in a bow or trail down the back like streamers when I walked. All they did, of course, was draw more attention to the ample expanse of skin on my back. Moreover, wearing panties or a thong underneath would only show above the butt line, and invite clucking critical tongues, so I decided to go without underwear, including a bra, which would’ve thrown off my smooth torso line in any case. So, I figured that 2″, black, ankle-strap heels – drawing attention to my small feet and nicely turned ankles – and dangling silver earrings would round out the ensemble. For everywhere but at the dinner table, I decided discreetly to wrap my shoulders and back with a navy blue-and-white flowered shawl that I’d bought in Honolulu.

JJ started to dress as I applied makeup in front of my mirror and said, “You’ll be the belle of the ball tonight, babe!”

“I’m so nervous, JJ. I’ve never been to college. What do I say if some faculty member asks me something?” I was also afraid that news of my gang bang at Lulu’s might have spread. Though I’d applied some healing ointment to my colon and rectum, I was constantly reminded of that public orgy since I was still very sensitive back there.

“Just be honest, Ginny. These are hardly Nobel Prize winners. Just give ’em your impressions of the island, talk about Andi, and our nice, conventional life.”

“Yeah…our swinger’s club, our adultery and incest, my group sex with a dozen village natives, and our plans for a porn business,” I said, bitchily. I hadn’t told him about the score of men I’d fucked and sucked in the poolroom’s phone booth the day before.

“C’mon, babe, you look fabulous! You’ll put every broad there to shame! Just…maybe a little more silver highlight on your dark blue eyelids…,” he said, squinting and giving me a makeup tip.

“Goddammit, JJ! I can do this alone!” I barked, shrugging his hand from my shoulder. Jeezus! One thing I did know was how to apply makeup!

“You’re right,” he said. “Sorry.” He looked at me in the mirror and said, “I’m gonna get you a brandy before we leave so you’ll chill out a bit.”

He left, returning with a snifter of good cognac, half of which I gulped. “Thanks,” I muttered, now sorry I’d snapped at him.

“‘S’okay, kiddo. ‘Bout finished? The car’ll be here in 15 minutes to pick us up.”

“Sam’s not driving us?” I asked, curiously.

“No, why complicate things?” he asked. “The Dean’s sending a driver.”

Part 2

Forty-five minutes later we were ringing the Dean’s doorbell at a beautiful, post-modern glass and concrete house adjoining some other college buildings, all of which JJ had designed. As I stood nervously beside JJ, the door opened slowly and a deep voice resonated to someone inside, saying, “Yeah, that’s what I told him!” and I froze in panic because I knew that voice.

The door was now fully open and there stood Nick, who’d witnessed my pool hall exhibitionism the day before, dressed in a linen sport jacket with tie and tropical slacks. I quickly realized that he was the Dean of the college! “Jay!” he beamed, reaching out to shake JJ’s hand. “And…?” he said, looking at me.

“Ginny!” said JJ, which prompted a warm look from Nick’s eyes as he shook my hand.

“Very pleased to meet you,” I gasped, my heart in my throat.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Ginny!” said Nick, inviting us inside and not hinting at our earlier meeting the previous day. He’d created for JJ, and his guests inside, the subterfuge that we’d never before met. Once inside we were introduced around, and after a while a couple of cocktails had lessened my initial social reticence.

Most of the dozen people there were between 40 and 60, I guessed, with Nick being among the youngest at 35. The woman with Nick, a 5’9″, full-bodied, longhaired brunette about 30, had stunning posture. Named Elaine, she was an especially confident hostess, conversing easily with each couple, injecting humor whenever she could, and laughing in a melodious contralto voice. When she spoke with me, however, I felt as ankara escort bayan if I’d been laid open under the peering eyes of a forensic physiologist, dissecting my entire being to reveal all of my inner secrets.

I was glad, then, when we sat down at dinner. Nick sat at the head of the table, with me to his left as he assumed the host’s position, and JJ sat to Elaine’s left as she occupied the hostess’s seat at the opposite end. We were the guests of honor! How nice, I thought, until I saw Elaine touching JJ whenever she made a conversational point amidst the noisy gathering. I also got the impression that her left hand was busy with his thigh under the table every once in a while. I was kept very busy by an extremely tall man – Paul was his name – about 50, whose leg never left mine under the table, and who tried to screen me from his wife, who sat at his left. I’d removed my shawl and put it behind me on my chair, so my naked back was bare for him to see. He taught math, he said, and was already drunk as dinner commenced. His hands were alive. When he wasn’t swilling down glasses of Australian red wine, he was stroking whatever part of my tightly fitting blue dress that was within reach. My only salvation was Nick, who interrupted the math instructor whenever it appeared he was getting too familiar or intimate.

I became lost in the dinner conversation…something about integration and discrimination…as concepts and realities…practiced in the Pacific islands. Whenever I thought I understood a line of reasoning, I’d come away with a conflicting premise. I hoped that it was the alcohol, rather than my stupidity…or lack of a higher education.

“These islanders can’t learn math,” Paul said to the gathering, slurring his words.

“That’s probably because it requires discriminatory thought processes,” said someone else.

“Ahh…they’re just dumb,” he responded.

“I think it might be because they’re not used to searching for unknowns, like westerners,” said Nick.

“I agree, Nick,” said JJ. “To them, everything is known…seen…everything happens in the present.”

“All they can do is add,” said Paul, “…and only in its most rudimentary form. For example, man plus woman equals children!” he guffawed. “Kava plus peppers equals sakau!”

“They have no concept of time,” said a mousy female English instructor as dessert arrived. “There’s no yesterday or tomorrow!”

“Don’t you see?” asked Nick. “Everything they need is right there in front of them. Time has no value. Their culture includes all: food, drink, sun, rain, sex…nothing’s left out for them to wish for! That’s why we Anglo-Europeans depend on time…and math…so by breaking our lives into smaller, more manageable pieces, we can try to make tomorrow more to our liking!”

“These people just can’t learn math…,” reiterated Paul, “…the simplest science around.”

“That’s not true, Paul,” said Nick, his eyes flashing. “First, math’s not a science, it’s a language…using different kinds of logic. “Those who want to, get it. For example, Jay’s sponsoring one of our students – Luala – in the Architecture Program at U.C. because she’s a whiz at Lobechevskian Geometry…the most challenging math field imaginable!”

JJ chimed in, “Yeah, she’s going to be a star when her curvilinear designs start to be used. You just watch, Paul!”

I was lost. The only curvilinear form I’d seen Luala design was a contorted, acrobatic pose when she was fucking JJ as he stood holding her up, while she balanced herself on her hands that were flat on the floor.

Elaine then said, in an attempt at humor, “Yeah, but the question is, can she type?” which drew titters from around the table. Then, riveting me with a falsely polite gaze, she asked, “What do you think of all this, Ginny?”

I froze, flushed with embarrassment at being put on the spot in front of all these faculty members, and reached for my wineglass for support. My ears were burning as I said, haltingly, “These people, as you call them, are inclusive and accepting of anything…or anyone…that is important to them in their culture. We’re just visitors here. Those whom they love they remember…forever. Those whom they don’t respect, unfortunately, have a perverse effect on them. You can see that in the people who work for Americans…hotel maids, museum workers, even the truck drivers in the fields.” I hoped that I’d gotten all my “whoms” right.

“Go on, Ginny,” said my table mate Paul, who placed his damp, horny hand on the middle of my naked back. I flashed a quick look at him that said, Don’t touch! and he withdrew his hand to scratch absently at his ear.

I’d been thinking of the truck driver Teou and his crowd who’d gang banged me the previous day at Lulu’s when I’d spoken of natives that mainlanders had perverted. “I only hope that you, as educators, learn as much from them as the knowledge they’re absorbing from you!” I concluded.

“Exactly,” said Nick, into whose blue eyes I looked. There was a boundless universe in them that for a moment paralyzed and thrilled me. I took a deep sip of wine, and the whole table began chattering about something I remember from a high school lit class, “The White Man’s Burden” and the “noble savage.”



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