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From: "Taoman" <thomhobs@NOSPAMhotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} REV Master's Island 01 {Taoman} {Mfff,oral,anal,bi,spanking}
Date: Tue,  2 Jan 2001 19:10:02 -0500
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Warning this material is meant for mature readers

 Master's Island copyright @2001 Taoman. The right of Taoman to be
identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with
Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988
Authors Note: I have done extensive revision, charactor expansion and story
development on the orginal  work. This will become more apparant with
upcoming continuation of this story. T

DAY ONE

The fury had passed. The gusting wind no longer screamed and howled. With
dawn the clouds cleared and the sun warmed the sea. Once giant foaming
crests had subsided to large fat swells, which brake languorously on the
beach. Along the high water mark flotsam and jetsam cast ashore by the
tempest lay amongst the tangled seaweed. . A lone man clad in a torn and
sodden flight suit walks the beach. He stops at the edge of the green jungle
and slowly squats by a sparkling puddle of rainwater.

             The small jet had gone down during the typhoon. It had been a
terrifying ordeal particularly after the lightening had struck the cockpit
and all instrumentation and electronics had been lost. For endless hours we
had been carried blind and buffeted helplessly on the crest of the storm.
When the fuel was gone I had announced for everyone to prepare for a hard
landing. The black mass of land had appeared just as that raging black sea
seemed to be about to embrace us. I had attempted to land on the hard sand
above the surf line and thought we had made it with the thump of wheel
contact. Maintaining control I had just been able to just slow the plane.
Then the world had gone completely crazy. The undercarriage had ripped away
with an incredibly loud metallic scream and the plane had twisted into the
waves. I had looked up and in a frozen instant witnessed a towering wave,
which proceeded to engulf the world into a consuming blackness.
              That I was alive and squatting on this tropical beach seemed a
miracle that at the moment I was too exhausted to fully comprehend.  I had
found a trickle of fresh water flowing from the jungle. It seemed as if I
had swallowed most of the Pacific Ocean during the previous night. I
splashed the cool water on my face and let it run down my throat. There was
a resulting pink color running between my fingers.  Feeling my face I
realized that I had some minor cuts and scrapes. But besides some aches and
bruises I felt I was in relatively good shape.
               I stood up and shaded my eyes from the brilliant dawn sun to
survey the beach in both directions. I wondered how everyone else on the
flight had fared.  There had been four other passengers my employer Mr.
Talbot and three women.
               Yesterday when first seeing the boarding passengers I had
decided this trip was going to be a mix of business and pleasure for
someone. I had only briefly seen the females before our rushed departure
from Honolulu.   My quick impression of the three girls was pretty faces, a
lot of hair, model type figures, hairspray, stylish clothes and perfume.
They consisted of Kimberly, her sister Brittany and a friend named Jennifer.
Brittany and Jennifer where teenagers perhaps 18 or 19, it was hard to tell.
I had overhead their conversation and learned the girls had just graduated
from a High School back in the States.  Kimberly was in her late twenties
and probably Talbot's girlfriend. One of the impressed young ground crew had
confided that Kimberly had been a "playmate' and "Miss Year' He had her
picture taped to the inside of his toolbox.
              My name is Taylor. John Taylor.  I am 31 years old. I am
single having been divorced now about four years. I have been flying
aircraft since I was 16. After a stint in the US Air Force I had become
connected with Talbot Enterprises. The money was very good. It had to be
because Talbot was very hard to work for. For example this situation I was
in now would seem the logical result of his doing way of doing business. We
had flown from Honolulu to some obscure South Sea Island three days ago.
Talbot had some oil drilling concerns there. The remote unmapped landing
site was a WWII relic. The sole standing structure a battered Quonset hut.
No sooner had we landed than Talbot and the females had disappeared in a
waiting humvee.  I had bunked down in a dingy flight crew quarters for the
duration. I was dismayed to find the only available local satellite
communication system was down. Several days previously I had seen on a
posted weather map, which showed an ominous front brewing north. Knowing
that it was mid-season for typhoons I had wanted to chart the front's
progress.  I had been unable to get any current data. The short wave gear on
the plane only issued a roar of static. The problem was compounded by the
fact I had not filed any flight plan in Honolulu that reflected our currant
position. Part of my specialized job description involved doing my part in
keeping these little drill site sightseeing trips undocumented and
untraceable. No one had any idea where we where.
            Talbot and his female entourage had come roaring back to the
plane at dusk on the second day. Talbot was ready to go despite my stated
misgivings. He had made of disdainful look about the third world airport and
flatly told me this plane was leaving now. His eyes shifted as he watched
Kimberly mount the boarding ladder. I turned my head to see what had caught
his attention. Her high shorts hugged a simply outstandingly tight female
backside. His voice changed and he said, "We need to get back to
civilization as soon as possible. I need two get those youngsters on a plane
back to their mothers." I shrugged and figured in a worst-case scenario I
could track any weather with my on board radar.
            Within in an hour I was convinced I had made a deadly mistake.
The on board radar displayed an all-encompassing solid mass of impregnable
front. I had initially attempted to shirt it. Within minutes we where
swallowed by the monster.
             Right now I had no idea where I was, besides somewhere in the
South Pacific. But I was alive, the sun had warmed me from the coldness of
the ocean and I was hungry.  I decided to walk the beach with the sun behind
me. Within a mile I found floating debris from the plane.  Finding a small
floating sealed survival kit with some ration bars, matches, first aid, and
a Swiss knife filled me with a hopeful prospective. Within another mile I
found Talbot. He had not made it. I examined his body and determined that
either drowning or a broken neck had killed him.  I had not liked the man
but he had courage. He had rode with me in the cockpit on that final attempt
at a landing approach.
              "I hope the crabs and rats don't get you till I can get back
and bury you pal." I told him. "There might be people still alive that need
me more than you do at the moment."
.             I dragged him above the high tide mark and marked his location
with a large piece of upright driftwood stuck in the sand.

When I saw the tail fuselage in the distance I picked up my pace to a slow
run.
            The three girls where siting in the shade under a wing of the
wreck. They where all miraculously unharmed from the ordeal, despite some
evident hard exposure. Three excited females clamored around me.
Immediately the older Kimberly expressed bitter disappointment at the
realization I was not apparently leading a rescue party. After we compared
recollections of the crash and our individual ordeals I broke the news about
Talbot's demise.  I passed out the ration bars I found to the three hungry
survivors.
             The plane was torn in two and partially buried upright in the
sand. It was awash in the surf. The underside cargo bay was of course
unreachable. Using a broken seat back I had attempted to dig a hole to get
access but the incoming tide defeated me. I watched with a sullen despair as
the last vestiges of civilization shifted from the battering waves and was
slowly reclaimed by the ocean and swirling sand.
             I had passed a large fresh water stream back up the beach and I
suggested we make a base at that point.  I spent the rest of the afternoon
constructing a crude lean-to on high ground under the palm trees. The women
did not offer much assistance. After spending an hour attempting to show
each girl individually how to weave the vines, bamboo and palm fronds I
realized it would be quicker to focus on that job aspect myself and let them
scout for building materials.  The two teenagers where easily distracted
doing this task. After being gone and hour and a half they returned with
some old dried and brittle fronds. They said they had found a pool up stream
and had washed. The older Kimberly was not much help either. She had stated
the hut was "a waste of time" as we would soon be rescued. On hearing about
the pool Kimberly said that sounded "wonderful!" and the three disappeared.
By dusk I had completed the dubious  shelter.
             With the  sunset the girls reappeared. Shortly thereafter the
first drops of rain began falling and within minutes the full force of a
tropical gale was on us. We huddled miserably under the leaking cover of the
flimsy lean-to, which only slightly diffused the full force of the driving
rain. The girl's formed together in the center and I found my outside
position caught the blunt of the storm. I spent that first cold night on the
island soaked and shivering in a wretched tight ball. (to be cont.)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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