The next day I had set up my easel on the beach outside my cottage and was once more attempting to paint a landscape that someone might actually want to buy. Once more I was failing miserably. My heart just wasn’t in it.

“Howdy, neighbour,” called Vanessa as she strolled up the beach towards me. She was wearing a navy blue short-sleeved blouse and white pleated skirt that fell just below her knees. When she reach me I noticed that her blouse was undone just enough to reveal that she was wearing a white lacy bra underneath. “Hard at work I see.”

“It didn’t used to be work,” I complained. “These days I don’t seem to be able to do a thing right.”

“I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself,” she reassured me. “Everyone has a bad day occassionally.”

She stood behind me and looked over my shoulder.

“Those clouds look good,” she said encouragingly.

“They’re supposed to be seagulls,” I explained.

“Oh. Well you could cut your losses and call it an abstract,” she suggested. “Damn,” she added, changing the subject, “I think I got bitten by a mosquito last night. Can you see a bump.”

With this she turned her back to me and lifted her skirt to reveal that she wasn’t wearing any panties. I bent forward to examine the area, but it seemed only a few seconds before Vanessa, having given her right buttock a cursory scratch dropped her skirt back into place.

“What a rude mosquito,” she complained, “to bite me on the bum.”

“A lucky mosquito, if you ask me,” I replied.

“Now David, you wouldn’t bite me on the bum would you?” asked Vanessa disapprovingly.

“Well, strictly speaking,” I said, “mosquito don’t bite, they suck.”

“You can say that again,” Vanessa replied. “Although, I don’t know, I quite like to be sucked in some places. What about you, David, I bet you like to be sucked in some places, too. I bet that's something we have in common.”

“Oh, God,” I said. “Now I know I’m not going to get any painting done today.”

“Well, if I’m distracting you,” Vanessa suggested, “I could go home...”

“No, no,” I replied quickly. “It’s not your fault. It’s just that landscapes don’t really inspire me anymore.”

“Well, why don’t you paint me then?” asked Vanessa.

“O.K.,” I replied, picking up my brush and applying a splodge of blue paint to the end of her nose.

“No, silly,” she said, trying to wipe away the paint with the back of her hand and only succeeding in smearing it across both cheeks so that she looked like an American Indian in full war-paint. “I mean paint me in the nuddy,” she explained, enthusiastically unbuttoning her blouse and dropping it off her shoulders onto the sand.

“I must admit that could be a way around my dilemma,” I agreed, trying not to let on how happy I was about this turn of events.

“A guy once compared me to Botticelli’s Birth of Venus,” Vanessa added, as she released her bouncing breasts from their diaphanous confinement. “But I reckon I have better boobs. What do you think?”

“Yours get my vote,” I assured her, as she unzipped her skirt and shimmied it down to the sand.

 “So how do you want me,” she asked, adopting a number of mock poses, flaunting her nakedness playfully, causing my cock to swell inside my castaway-style denim shorts.

“Wait a moment,” I said, “I’ll just put a new canvas on the easel.”

A moment later this was done and I stood looking at Vanessa speculatively with my palette in one hand and my brush in the other.

“Wait a minute,” Vanessa cried, running up to me. She started to unbuckle my belt and unzip my shorts.

“Hey, what’s the idea,” I protested, but with my hands full there was nothing I could do.

“I want to be able to see your stiffometer,” Vanessa replied pulling down my shorts.

“My what?” I asked.

“Your stiffometer,” she explained, with mock exasperation. “A scientific instrument designed to measure how sexy I am. Ohhhhh, a very high reading,” she added as my stiff prick sprang out of my fast descending underpants. “Very gratifying. From a scientific viewpoint you understand,” she reassured me. “Mmmm,” she added thoughtfully, “if it stays at that level for too long I may have to relieve the pressure manually. I wouldn't want your dick to explode.”

“I’m never going to be able to paint you if you keep teasing me like this,” I complained.

“Don’t worry, David,” Vanessa replied softly. “I meant it as a joke, but I think a little pressure relief is just what you need so that you can concentrate on your painting. Lay down and make yourself comfortable.”

Obediently, I lay down on the sand. Vanessa knelt down beside me like a life-saver about to deliver the kiss of life. And indeed she did bend down and give me a long slow kiss. I lifted my right arm and placed it around her so that I could stroke her oh-so-soft bottom.

 “Mmmmm,” she said. “I like being stroked. You’ll be able to do lots of nice things for me later, but right now this is all for you, to relieve the tension. With that she ran the finger tips of both hands gently down my chest and belly.

“I better not tease you anymore,” she corrected herself. “The pressure’s high enough already.”

With that she grasped my stiff cock firmly in her right hand and began pumping it up and down. As she worked away she bent down from time to time to press her soft warm lips against mine.

“Do you like this, David?” she whispered. “Do you like it when Nessa plays with your cock? I bet this is how you play with it yourself. When you’re alone. When you’re thinking of me. Do you like to think of me when you’re playing with your cock? I bet you do. Is this how you do it, when you think of me? Nice firm strokes? I like to think of you when I’m playing with my clitty. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? Do you ever try to imagine what it would feel like to slide your stiff cock into my slippery wet pussy? Tonight you’ll find out what it feels like. Do you ever wonder what it would be like if I treated your dick like the world’s most delicious lollypop, licking it and sucking it and drooling all over it? Tonight you’ll find out what it feels like.”

This was too much for me and, with a body-shaking wave of pleasure, I spurted a stream of hot cum all the way up to the middle of my chest.

“I bet that relieved the pressure,” Vanessa commented, with a smile.

“What’s all this about tonight?” I asked when I had recovered my breath.

“Oh, that,” said Vanessa, a little reluctantly. “I hadn’t really meant to say anything about that quite yet, but I let myself go and it kind of slipped out. See, I think you should come live with me in the main house, and I was hoping to persuade you to move in this afternoon. The place is definitely big enough for two. Of course there would be some domestic duties...”

“Such as?” I enquired.

“Well,” said Vanessa, with a cheeky grin, “you’d have to fuck my brains out every night for a start.”

“Perhaps I’d better look the place over before I decide,” I replied, trying to maintain a straight face. “See if it suits.”

Vanessa crawled up next to me on the sand and seductively whispered three words into my right ear: “Sucking and fucking.”

“Have you ever thought of becoming a real-estate salesperson?” I asked.

“So you agree?” she asked.

“Of course I agree,” I replied, shaking my head in disbelief. “I’m in love with you, woman. Can’t you see that? If you asked me to live with you in an ice-encrusted cave I’d be there with you in a minute. If you asked me to live with you in an un-airconditioned shack in Death Valley, Nevada, I wouldn’t hesitate. If you asked me to live with you in a hole in the ground in Outer Mongolia where we were up to our arses in yak shit, I’d start packing my bags right away.”

“I think my place might be a little more comfortable,” replied Vanessa planting a kiss on my forehead.

Vanessa and I had a quick dip in the ocean to wash off. She didn’t quite get rid of all of the blue paint from her face, but, when I said she looked like Poncahontas, she did a quick, little indian war dance that made her boobs and bottom jiggle deliciously.

 “Now,” I said, as we headed back up the beach towards my easel and paints, “I don’t think I want to paint you at the beach, I wouldn’t want Botticelli to sue me for pinching his idea.”

“So what do you have in mind?” asked Vanessa.

“I think a wood-nymph-playing-in-the-forest-type deal might be the way to go,” I replied.

“A wood nympho?” Vanessa giggled.

“Nymph, nymph,” I emphasized. “Not nympho. I don’t wanting you humping the trees or anything. An innocent nymph frolicking playfully amid the bull-rushes.”

“I hate to tell you this,” put in Vanessa, “but this is a tropical island. We don’t have any bull-rushes.”

“That’s O.K.,” I replied, “I can paint them in from memory.”

We wound our way through the woods until we got to a suitably picturesque clearing. The only problem with it was a strong odour arising from the stagnant pond that lay at its centre.

“Pew, it smells,” Vanessa complained.

“That’s O.K.,” I reassured her, “painting is a visual medium. Smells are not recorded.”

“I know,” she said, “but it’s not very nice for us.”

“A certain amount of discomfort has to be endured in the creation of great art,” I explained.

“Oh, all right,” she agreed. “But you owe me for this. You’re going to have to be really nice to my pussy when we get home.”

I got her to pose on a smooth round rock at the edge of the pond, her head tilted slightly like that of a forest animal listening for approaching danger.

Half an hour later I was making great progress on the basic lines of the painting, but Vanessa was getting stiff and asked if she could stretch a little. When I said she could, she stretched and moved her legs around. Little did she know that a large beatle was making its way slowly across the rock next to her. When she inadvertantly put her foot on this uninvited forest denison, it understandably startled her, causing her to jump backwards and fall headlong into the smelly stagnant pond.

At first I was worried for her well-being, but it didn’t take her long to emerge shaken but unscathed from the filthy mess. She was covered in slimy black and rust-coloured algae, spluttering and spitting, and picking half-rotted leaves out of her hair.

“Now you look more like the after-birth of Venus,” I commented, unable to restrain my laughter.

“O.K. Laughing Boy,” said Vanessa approaching me with a determined air.

“Oh, no,” I said backing away.

She reached out and grabbed me by the dick. Then she led me over to the edge of the pond, turned me around and, placing a hand squarely on my chest, gave me a shove.

With a resounding Splot! I sat down heavily in a particularly noxious patch of algal bloom.

By now Vanessa and I were both laughing uncontrollably.

“Come on,” she suggested, “I think another swim is in order.”

As we walked up the beach from our cleansing dip Vanessa kept sniffing and wrinkling her nose.

“I still don’t feel really clean,” she said, “I think we should have a long, slow soak in the bath-tub.”

“Sounds good to me,” I replied.

“Who’s going first.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Vanessa, “my bath-tub is easily big enough for both of us.”

“Let’s call this my official moving in,” I suggested as she opened the door. “I can get any stuff I need tomorrow.”

Vanessa started the water running in the bath, while I looked around her bedroom. She had a big, double bed in the middle with a large floral quilt thrown over it. I examined the titles on her small bookshelf. Literary classics, reference books, romances by herself and a few competitors, “The Joy of Sex”...I looked at the few photos of family, friends, herself as a child and at college.

Then a piece of paper on her bedside table caught my eye. It was some kind of hand-written notes.

“Oh, don’t look at that,” said Vanessa anxiously, as she came out of the bathroom. She tried to snatch it out of my hand but I hid it behind me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Oh, all right,” conceded Vanessa. “When I was thinking about asking you to move in, I started to think up some rules of the household. Then I got a bit carried away and dreamed that we would be establishing a new sexy utopia. So I came up with my Rules of the Island. It was just a bit of fun.”

“Let’s see,” I said, reading her notes: 

“’Rule 1: No clothing to be warn at any time, except sexy lingerie.’

“But I don’t look very good in lingerie,” I commented.

“That’s for me, silly,” she explained. “All the better to tease you with. Anyway, I like the slippery, silky feeling against my skin. But don’t worry, you can pull my panties down anytime you like.”

My prick, which had been only half-erect up until now, became rock-hard at this thought.

“Here ye, here ye, here ye,” proclaimed Vanessa in a deep voice, “all gentlemen present who wish to adopt motion one please raise your cocks.” Smiling down at my rampant stiffy, Vanessa’s voice changed back to normal. “Oh, goody! Motion carried unanimously.”

“Moving right along,” I continued.

“’Rule 2. All indoor bathing is to be communal, in the interested of water conservation.’

“I think we’ve already decided on that one,” I said. “Which reminds me, one of us had better turn that water off before it overflows.”

“Woops. Almost forgot,” cried Vanessa, her juicy bottom jiggling deliciously as she ran back into the bathroom. “Water’s ready,” she said, when she emerged. “Let’s read the rest in the tub. It doesn’t matter if the paper gets wet. I have it commited to memory.”

“I bet you do, you naughty girl,” I laughed, giving her a playful slap on the butt.

“You get in first,” she said, pouring in some aromatic bath oils.

I lowered myself slowly into the water, relishing the warm wetness as it engulfed me. A delicious languidness swept through my being.

“Come on in,” I said to Vanessa, “the water’s wonderful.”

She stept over the side of the bath and gently placed her right foot next to my left thigh. With her other foot positioned in a similar position on the other side, and her hands on the sides of the bath, she slowly lowered herself into the water. I loved the way her legs spread casually in front of me as she squatted down revealing her sweet pussy lips for a moment before they sank beneath the water. At last her soft bottom came to rest on my feet.

“Is that all right?” she asked. “My bum on your feet doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“No,” I said. “I love it, because I can do this.”

I pulled my right foot out from under her bum and used my big toe to tickle her pussy.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” she said. “Motion two was definitely a good idea.”

“Let’s have a look at Rule 3,” I suggested, reading from the piece of paper which I had propped up in the soap tray.

“’Rule 3: A daily tax is to be paid by the subjects of the island (David and Vanessa) to the rulers of the island (David and Vanessa) in the form of kisses, which can be deposited on any part of the body that either subject or ruler should request. Amount not to fall below 50 kisses per day. And no fair kissing yourself.’

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “Let’s see how it works in practise. Loyal subject David requests to deliver his first payment to Queen Vanessa’s lovely bottom.”

“You would ask for something difficult,” complained Queen Vanessa, as she stood up, giving me a scrumptious view of her wet nakedness. Turning around carefully, she bent down slightly. I knelt up, pushing my stiffness against the back of her leg, as I buried my face in the soft, milkiness of her left butt cheek and planted a kiss there.

“Now it’s your turn,” I said, as she lowered herself back into the water facing me.

“All right,” she said. “Loyal subject Vanessa requests to kiss King David on the lips.”

“Sounds good to me,” I replied.

“You don’t get a say in it,” Vanessa explained. “All requests, from subjects or royalty have to be obeyed regardless. We may have a king and queen, but this is a utopia, which means that everybody has the same rights. Now if I’m going to kiss you on the lips you are going to have to come closer.”

I slid my bum down the bath, pulling Vanessa towards me as I did so. This led to her sitting right in my lap, straddling my hard cock, with her soft, slippery, soapy boobs sliding all over my chest. For the first time, my cock slid deep into the warm wetness of her pussy, as her soft lips met mine. I was in heaven, but only for a moment.

“That was delicious,” said Vanessa as she slid back down the bath. “But there’s no room to fuck properly in a bath. That will have to wait. Now for royal decrees. Queen Vanessa requests that loyal subject David kiss her left nipple.”

I knelt up and placed my lips on Vanessa nipple. I sucked it gently between them and played with it with my tongue.

“Mmmm,” said Queen Vanessa, “I might just have to knight you for that one. Now it’s your turn.”

“Ummmm,” I said. “I don’t know what place to pick.”

“Where do you want it most, David?” asked Vanessa, with a smile. “I think you’re thinking of somewhere, but you’re embarrassed to say it. Now be honest. I’ll know if you’re not. What was the first thought that crossed your mind.”

“All right,” I said, resignedly. “King David requests that loyal subject Nessa kiss the end of his dick.”

“I knew it,” said Vanessa, “there’s no sense trying to hide anything from me. That was the first thing you thought about when you read rule 3 wasn’t it?”

“Well,” I pleaded, “a guy’s only human. And you really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Vanessa, “I love kissing dicks. It’s only your lack of imagination I’m poking fun at. There’s loads of other lovely places to be kissed, too. Now we better stick him under the tap and wash the soap suds off, so I can kiss him properly.”

Once this had been done, I knelt up, while Vanessa, holding my prick loosely with her right hand, bent down and wrapped her tender lips around my glans, at the same time lapping the tip gently with her tongue.

“Oh, yeah,” I sighed.

“So I take it Motion 3 is carried,” Vanessa asked as we sat down again.

“Definitely,” I agreed.

 I looked back at the paper.

“’Rule 4. All subjects are allowed to touch all other subjects wherever and whenever they like, as long as its gentle.’

“Now let me get this straight,” I said. “Does that mean I can touch you here whenever I like.”

I gently fondled Vanessa's left breast.

“Absolutely,” Vanessa replied. “And I can touch you here.”

Vanessa placed a gentle finger in my navel.

“I can even touch you here?” I asked, inserting a finger gently between Vanessa’s pussy lips.

“Especially there,” sighed Vanessa. “And I can touch you here.”

Vanessa stroked my cock with her soapy fingers.

Then Vanessa started to giggle. “I can even stick my finger up your nose.”

I felt my nasal cavity gently probed by Vanessa’s finger.

“But I probably wouldn’t want to,” she said, removing it and making a show of washing it very well.

“And I could touch you here,” I said, reaching down between Vanessa’s legs and inserting my soapy index finger into the crack of her bottom to feel her tightly clenching anus, “but I probably wouldn’t want to.” I, too, made a show of washing my finger very well.

“So is Motion 4 carried?” she asked.

“You bet,” I replied. “Which leaves only Rule 5.”

“’Rule 5. An island subject’s first duty is to fully enjoy the rich pleasures that life on the island provides and to pass them on to other subjects. Those found wanting in this department will be spanked or tickled, whichever they prefer, until such time as they renounce their partypooperism. Those who enjoy their punishment will be considered to be serious recalcitrants and given more of the same treatment.’

“Well,” I concluded, “that more or less goes without saying, I think.”

“I agree,” said Vanessa.

“All motions carried,” I declared.

“I’m glad that’s settled,” sighed Vanessa. “Now if you’ll rub soap all over my body, I’ll do the same for you. Oh, and I need a shampoo, too. I think I still have some of that pond scum in my hair.”

“You better turn around,” I said. “I’ll be able to do your hair easier that way.”

Vanessa stood up, turned her bottom towards me, and then gently sat down in my lap. Her bum was on my belly and my stiff cock poked up between her thighs, its head nestled amongst her pubes.

“Hey, look,” she cried. “I’ve grown a dick. Now I know what it feels like to be a boy. Shall I do what boys do and play with my dick in the bath. Damn, it’s too short, I can’t get my hand around it.”

Eventually Vanessa quieted down and let me wash her hair. Then, slowly and leisurely, I soaped her body all over, and she did the same for me.

When we had finished we lay back and looked at each other.

“You know,” I said, looking at her boobs. “I’ve finally worked out why you’re nipples turn pink like that.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“They know what your pussy is thinking and they are so embarrassed that it makes them blush,” I explained.

“And what is my pussy thinking, David?” Vanessa asked, humouring me.

“She’s thinking how hungry she is. Apart from that quick snack earlier on, nothing has passed her lips for over a week,” I pointed out.

“Ah, but that’s were you’re wrong,” she answered, wriggling the middle and index fingers of her right hand at me in what looked suspiciously like a “fuck you” gesture.

“Snack’s don’t count,” I pointed out. “She needs a proper feed.”

“Any suggestions?” asked Vanessa.

“Well,” I said, “I just happen to have a delicious submarine sandwich here. Get it,” I added, making the head of my dick rise above the water and then sink again. “Submarine.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Vanessa. “Long and hard and full of seamen. Is there any chance that you might shut up if I fucked you?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” I replied, raising the palms of my hands towards the ceiling, thus allowing Vanessa the opportunity to place a soapy finger on the end of my prick, push it down towards her and let it fly catapult-style back with a slap against my belly.

“You just can’t leave it alone, can you?” I commented.

“You wish,” she smiled. “Now to the bedroom where the fucking and sucking are about to begin. No, don’t dry yourself. We’ll just throw lots of towels over the bed. I like being wet.”