1. The Island, Chapter 4


    Date: 7/27/2017, Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Erotica, First Time, Latina, Male/Female, Virginity, Author: Paperbackwriter, Rating: 89.8, Source: sexstories.com

    Chapter 4 The sensation of cool water on my forehead woke me. I opened my gummy eyes, wincing at the bright sunlight that assaulted them. I smelled salt air, and heard voices nearby raised in anger, and others wailing. I turned to the left and was rewarded by a stab of pain in my neck, and a pounding headache. I focused on the dark blur in front of me. A lovely, tanned face gave me an encouraging smile. She continued to wipe off my forehead and said, “God, I’m glad you’re awake! I could use some help.” She seemed familiar to me, but my addled brain was not putting a name to the face. “Who…? I managed to croak. She must have sensed my confusion. “It’s Joelle, Dr. Connor. I recognized you lying on the beach with the other injured. I stitched up your forehead while you were out. Do you remember what happened?” “What? Where are we?” “Some island. The plane grounded on a reef after they ditched it. The pilot saved our lives. It’s so tragic he didn’t survive,” she said sadly. The plane! I remembered now. The guns. The crash landing. But...Joelle? Joelle was an OR nurse at the hospital at which I had just lost my job. She was Peruvian, and one hell of a surgical assistant. She was also one of my favorite people in the world. What in the hell was she doing in the Indian Ocean with me? She had not been on the plane, too, had she? This was way too much of a coincidence, and I began to wonder if I was hallucinating. I opened my mouth, intending to say so, but a thought materialized in ...
    my mind: Accept . WTF? I am not a Zenlike person. I do not “accept.” The thought was out of character for me and seemed to have been placed there from outside of my own consciousness. “Joelle, you can’t be here. This is crazy.” I started to explain why none of this was reasonable, but again, like a neon sign behind my eyes: Accept . My mouth clicked shut. My headache pounded. Suddenly the whole bizarre string of events seemed perfectly understandable. It was natural that Joelle was here. There were injured people that needed my help, she was my best assistant, and she was there to help me. She stroked my forehead with her cloth again, and gave me the incandescent smile I dreamed of some nights. Joelle was possibly the nicest person I knew. She was 32, gorgeous, dedicated to her job, smart as hell, and mystifyingly single. I knew she wanted a husband and family, but she never seemed to be able to meet anyone suitable. She was a good girl, raised by religious parents who had emigrated to the US when she was young. I suspected her reluctance to engage in one-night stands and to troll the internet dating sites were hampering her search for man in the modern era. I had considered asking her out myself, but I had hesitated, fearing in my heart she was too good for me, and did not deserve a dedicated pussy-hound like me in her life. It would also be very awkward and have work implications, since we had a professional relationship. Nevertheless I could dream, and I did. Her pleasantly ...
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