Date: Fri, 31 Dec 2004 07:46:53 EST
From: Jonah
Subject: Island Paradise      Ch 5

Shiver!
Something dead.
Carl shivered again.  He turned and retraced his steps.  His eyes were
still glued to the ghastly intruder.  Paradise had been tainted.  He
moved more quickly. Stumbled.  Need to look where I'm going.  Had he said
that out loud?  Running now.  Collapsing, bleeding and out of breath,
next to Simon.

Simon was lying next to Toby, his face buried in the soles of the little
boy's feet.  Toby, seeing Simon's distress, was dealing with it the only
way he knew how.  He was quietly wanking Simon.

It was several minutes before Carl could speak.
"It's Zack!"
Simon said nothing.  He clearly wanted nothing to do with it, whoever it
had been.
"Zack the captain", Carl persisted.
"We'll have to bury him".
Simon sat up angrilly. "We ?", he shouted.  "We'll have to bury him?
What did he want to come here for anyway?  Spoiling everything."
Carl lay down again.  "I don't suppose he wanted to", he replied. "The
tide brought him in."
"Then the tide can bloody well take him out again".
That was strong language for Simon.  Carl was shocked.
His response was immediate though.
"And have the next tide bring him in along here?  Simon have you ever
read 'Lord of the Flies'?"
Simon grunted.
"Saw the film."
"Then you know how much trouble a dead body can cause.  We've got to get
rid of it.  Alright I'LL get rid of it.  You just stay here and, if the
others come back, make sure nobody follows me.  Best give me your
survival kit.  I'll need to cut some tree branches to dig with."
"There's a kid's bucket and spade in one of the suitcases." Simon
appeared to be addressing the sky.  "My gran made me pack it.  But you
won't be able to dig in that shingle.  You'll need to drag it to the
sandy bit further up.  Here I'd better help you"
"No!"
Carl was angry now.  "You stay with Toby.  See you later."

It was the work of a whole morning digging in the sand.  The others must
have been back long ago, but still Carl laboured alone.  The sun had
passed it's zenith when Carl returned to the body and began to
unceremoniously drag it toward it's final resting place.  The others must
have dined on coconut again, because nobody had come near the shellfish.
Of course, Simon would not have let them.  He remembered, just in time,
to go through the dead pilot's pockets before tipping him into the
grave.  A pocket compass, a survival whistle and some loose change were
all that they yielded.  By the time he had finished pushing all the sand
back into the hole the sun was balancing on the mountain peak.  It was
not a moment too soo for, as he patted down the last spadeful, a small
cough startled him.  One of the Thomson twins was watching from the
shingle.
"Stuart?"
"I'm Steven", said the twin, "what are you doing?"
Carl rolled over and lay on the sand, careful not to lie on the grave.
"I had a row with Simon", he said, as if that were an answer, "What are
you doing down here?"
"I came to look for you", replied Steven, seating himself next to Carl,
"You've been gone all day."
Carl put an arm around the little boy.
" Well we'd better get you back to camp before the others worry about
you", he said, but Steven shook his head.
"Stuart knows I'm OK", he said, " We always know".
Carl turned onto his back, gently pulling Steven on top of him.  Steven's
little hairless, pre-pubic willy was poking him in the midriff.  The boy
lay astride Carl, bending his knees so that Carl could reach his feet.
Carl took the hint and fondled the cute toes as Steven gently kissed him
on his lips.  The boy lingered there and licked Carl's lips with the tip
of his tongue.  Carl's lips parted and tongue met tongue, probing,
exploring, carressing.  The boy didn't seem to want to come up for air.
Suddenly he sat up, almost on Carl's erect member.  Both feet came
together imediately under Carl's chin.  The twins were paler then Rory or
Toby.  The soles of their feet were a pale orangey-yellow, rather than
pink.  Steven's toes looked delicious. Carl took hold of both ankles and
began to lick from the heels forward.  As his tongue began exploring the
high shapely arches Steven wriggled his toes; so Carl sucked the toes.  A
thought struck him as he finished the last one.
"Does Stuart know about this as well?", he asked.
Steven smirked.  "Yep!, he said happily, " he can't wait for his turn."
Suddenly the horrors of the day vanished.  Thanks to one ten-year-old
boy, Paradise had re-asserted itself.  As he led Steven back to camp Carl
wondered if he had ever been so happy.
 The camp was orderly as ever.  A tribute to Simon's good housekeeping.
They supped on cooked shellfish and coconut flesh, washed down with cool,
clear water.  Then they replenished the fire and settled down for the
night.
Carl didn't know if he wanted to lay with Simon again yet, so he lay with
the twins.  Stuart didn't complain; he knew he had some catching up to
do.
Rory shrugged and lay next to Toby where Simon soon joined him.
What a night.
See you in the morning.