Date: Sat, 07 Apr 2007 00:39:39 +0000
From: Kevin Berry <kgberrywriting@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Charlie's Secret Heartache

This is a fan-fiction story. The rights to these characters belong to and
are copyright protected by J.J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof and I am using
them without permission. Please send feedback to
kgberrywriting@hotmail.co.uk , it would be very much appreciated!
Now, please sit back and enjoy...

Charlie's Secret Heartache

Charlie walked up to the improvised hut he and Claire called home. He had
been hoping to take Aaron for a walk up the beach, but Claire was feeding
him. He smiled, and snuck a glance at her bare nipple, large and pink in the
bright sun. It had been a long time since Charlie had had any relief, and he
felt his penis stir in his jeans.

"I'm er... I'll go for a walk then," Charlie told Claire.
"Alright, fine by me," she replied. He adored her Australian accent.
"I'll come back later and erm..." his mind was scattered; he could only feel
the dick in his trousers aching for relief. "I'll be back later," he
finished lamely.

Hand in pocket, he walked up the beach into the jungle. He thought about
Claire's blond hair, her perfect breasts, letting his feet wander where
they'd take him...

"Oh," Charlie thought to himself. Thoughts of Claire vanished as he found
himself at a familiar spot below a certain tree. Sitting down on the ground,
he uncovered half a dozen statues of the Virgin Mary, with heroin concealed
in the centre. Quickly, he had to realign his thoughts to fight the
overbearing temptation before him.

"OK," he said aloud, trying to force himself to think of any random person
on the Island.

Closing his eyes, his thoughts turned to Jack. Jack was a good leader. He
was a strong person with a decisive mind and a strong body. Charlie had
never been strong like Jack was, not really, and he had longed for a
well-toned body ever since he was a teenager, never having really taken any
action about it. He had let out his frustration through music, and had ended
up pretty average in his body type. But Jack was different from him. He had
done something about it, and was a very handsome man indeed.

Gently a hand reached up his T-Shirt, over his belly, the tiniest bit plump
and with a light coat of brown hair. He imagined strong, rippled muscles and
a hard surface. Up, to the chest, which was also lightly haired, and he
imagined a hairy, firm set of pecs like Jack had. A real man's chest. A sigh
escaped through Charlie's lips, and his cute face with its round nose
displayed a brief flicker of sadness.

Unconsciouly, his left hand had begun to make it way up to the inside of his
thigh, and Charlie found himself with a stiff erection in his boxer shorts.
But then, with a mischievous, school boy grin, his head turned and searched
the jungle around him for anyone straying from the beach; he strained his
ears and heard nothing but birdsong. Still grinning, he crossed his arms
over and pulled his purple tee over his head, leaving a necklace hanging
around his neck onto his bare chest, where his right hand was beginning to
tweak and tug at his nipples.

Only now, they were not his own small nipples, but Jack's wider ones, and he
ran a hand through his thick fur, feeling the muscles beneath. Curious
fingertips squeezed a bulging, tattooed bicep; the short-stubbled cheeks and
fuzzy, soft hair was not Charlie's. The hand squeezing his meat tucked under
his denims was not his, nor the thick, solid penis and the loose ball sack
they were exploring. He kicked off his trainers and quickly removed his
socks.

Now he stood up, his bearded face once more grinning a bad-boy smile; he
unbuckled the leather belt, and let his jeans fall to the floor revealing
close-fitting white boxer shorts with a blue elasticated waist-band to his
absent audience. His finger circled his belly button and followed Jack's
course, thick, black snail-trail downwards, over the soft, smooth material
of his boxer shorts, the hard lump of his dick, and down beneath the soft
lump left by his balls. A shudder of sexual pleasure instantly made Charlie
stumble at his knees, so he pulled down the underpants and set himself down
on the soft jungle soil, feeling it against his bare naked ass cheeks. His
penis stood straight up, and the air flowed cool around the freshly freed,
sensitive flesh.

Legs spread wide, he allowed his hands to cup and stroke his ball sack,
imagining Jack's tongue running up and down it, his blue eyes piercing into
his own. Back and forth the tongue ran, tickling and pleasuring, building
the feelings in Charlie's dick as it got stiffer and stiffer, and running
fast and faster as it went.

Then he stopped, and took a moment to admire his own penis. He liked it. It
was smooth, not bulging with veins, and a good thickness for a
little-over-six-inch cock. The top was a reddish pink with a healthy sheen,
and didn't overbalance the shaft, simply and elegantly capping it. He began
to imagine Jack's member next, stroking his own while doing so. Unlike his
own recently cut, soft, brown pubic hair (he had managed to borrow a pair of
scissors from Sawyer) Jack's would be thick, wiry, wild and black. His
nine-inch beast would be fed with thick veins, with a bulging, but by
proportions, small head. And a fat shaft, pulsing with its hardness.

He couldn't remember when he started jacking off (he smiled at his own pun),
but he knew his hand was now bringing his foreskin, smoothly and
rhythmically, over the top of his glans and back to the base. Closing his
eyes, his left hand tugged and gently batted his balls while his right,
dripping precum, continued shifting his foreskin up and down. Jack's wet
mouth encircled and enclosed his dick, sucking up juice and massaging the
head with a strong tongue. Gently, stubble rubbed and scratched his pubic
area and the joints of his thighs, while his nose nuzzled and snuck into his
pubes.
"Jack..." Charlie mumbled, his face all pleasure and concentration, fringe
dropping into his eyes.

He could feel his dick rubbing on the back of Jack's throat, different
somehow from when it was with a woman, despite the fact that he had never
been with a man. Not like this.

His hands pushed the fuzz covering Jack's head further and further towards
the base of his cock, and Jack was grunting and moaning and breathing
pleasure into every cell of his body. His tongue was expertly covering every
inch of Charlie's smooth and stiff shaft, swallowing his precum with
delight, exploring and pleasuring constantly, incessantly, without the need
to breathe or stop; ecstasy coursed through Charlie's veins, filling every
part of him, setting him alight, burning his insides; and yet his dick, his
balls, were all that there was in the world, all that mattered...

"Oh God," Charlie couldn't help it. It was so near, so close. But Jack's
sucking, his perfect control over Charlie's helplessly lust-ridden body
prevailed. "Fucking hell, oh fucking hell Jack!"

The pleasure was reaching a point in the top of his dick, gathering energy
like some sort of laser cannon ready to fire, to explode. All that there
was, right then, right there, was the hand pumping his cock, and the flesh
sticking out to the air.

"Fuuuuuck..." he finally whimpered. Great torrents of cum flew through the
air, and Jack swallowed all of it, splashing across Charlie's chest, hitting
his chin, landing on his necklace, and running down Jack's grateful throat.

Blue eyes opened to the quiet jungle. "What the fuck..?" Charlie finally
came out with. It was, by far, the most intense orgasm he had on The Island,
and possibly even before. Propping himself up on one elbow, he ran a finger
through the beard hair on his chin, allowing a grin as he savored the taste
of the very cum that had broken his "distance fired" record. Then he
gathered the cum from the rest of his body and channeled it into one hand,
swallowed and licked it away.

Not until he was taking Aaron out with him on an ocean-side stroll at sunset
that day did he think about the experience he just had. He hadn't thought
about another man like that before. At least, not since his teenage years,
but that was a phase he had grown out of. Watching Jack laugh with Kate by
her tent gave him a sick, pleasurable feeling in his belly and a stirring in
his midriff that unnerved him.

"Oh God. Please not again."

To be continued...

If you enjoyed this story, and want me to keep writing, please send feedback
to: KGBerrywriting@hotmail.co.uk