"The Adventures of Lynny the Leopard"

There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. Mark Twain

1995

The rogue wave struck the 47-foot sailing vessel “Papaia Ka Hua” with the force of a freight train, crushing the fiberglass ship with the impact of a hammer on an eggshell. The ship was underwater in less than two minutes, heading toward the bottom with most of the passengers and crew knocked senseless in their cabins, too early in the morning for most to even be awake.

But not too early for Charles Thomas Winthrop IV and Brøøklyn Wilson. The two kids, having met only a week ago in port and being of similar age, had become fast friends and were on-deck early to watch the sunrise. Following the rules set forth by Charles' protection detail and Brøøklyn's mother, they were both wearing the bright orange life jackets. At 8 & 7 years of age respectively, they still were young enough to follow directions, and in this case, it saved their young lives.

Tossed overboard, the two kids hit the water without a clue as to what caused their unexpected and sudden departure. They both watched in horror as the ship gurgled and sank before them, only a few pieces of it left floating.

In a stroke of pure luck, the back-up lifeboat, an inflatable designed to open when it was exposed to water, was not destroyed upon impact. It took a few moments, but the two were able to swim to it and get inside, Charlie climbing in first and then helping “Lyn”.

Shivering, crying, they huddled together with not a clue as to what to do, where to go, or even how to survive.

Adrift in the South Pacific and hundreds of miles from port, no SOS was sent due to the extremely violent and immediate destruction of the ship.

Present Day

Two minutes. Harry smiled sardonically. There's no way that his brother would make it in two minutes. Not that he could really blame him. Time simply wasn't important in his brother's world.

Sipping his $40 bottle of Aqua Amore water, he mused about how this conversation would go. Tommy wouldn't budge an inch, he was sure of it. He'd side with Dad like he always did, thought Harry.

Sixty seconds later, in walked his brother, much to Harry's chagrin. Escorted to the table by the maitre d', his snobbery over Tommy's attire subjugated by the Winthrop family fortune and the substantial tips he received.

“Nice. You couldn't wear something more appropriate?”

Tommy looked at Harry and simply grinned. “Hey,” he said, pointing to his own chest, “I'll have you know this is one of my best shirts,” he continued, the red-and-white checker patterned shirt only slightly wrinkled, “and these jeans are American classics.” Tommy crossed his arms with a “go for it” look.

Harry let out a snort of exasperation, defocusing on his younger brother and instead turning his attention to the $150 pris fixe lunch menu before him. The Players Club, aptly named, was a power lunch meeting place for the rich and famous in LA, unlike the local diners that were more Tommy's style.

A waiter soon appeared, impeccably dressed in tuxedo-like apparel.

“I'll have the duck stuffed with wild rice and remoulade and a half-bottle of the '98 Latour.” The waiter almost imperceptibly nodded his tacit approval, then turned toward Tommy, whose posture hadn't changed.

“I'll take a PBJ, no, make it two, and a glass of your best apple juice.” His eyes never left his brother's face, catching the nose wrinkle at his food choices. Score one, younger brother, he thought.

The waiter appeared non-plussed. “Would you like that on white or wheat, sir?”

“Surprise me.”

The waiter exited, having committed the order to memory.

“Why do you always seek to embarrass me when we get together?”

“Why do you always take me to places where you know I won't feel comfortable?”

“Touché.” Not exactly how I hoped this would go, thought Harry.

Harry knew that Tommy was studying him now, his intelligent mind trying to unravel the reason why his older brother invited him to lunch. It wasn't that they never got together, but a mid-week power lunch was an unusual event for the two of them.

“Does this have to do with Brøøk?” Tommy inquired. He knew that his brother had been seeing the woman for over a year now, unbeknownst to his parents.

Well, that didn't take long, thought Harry. He nodded.

Tommy's eyes glazed over a bit as they often did when the conversation turned to Harry's secret girlfriend. For him, there was something haunting about the woman.

Harry waited for it, and when Tommy's eyes went wide, he knew that he'd gotten it.

“No shit, bro?” Harry nodded.

As their waiter was discreetly passing by, Tommy flagged him down. “Hey, change my order to what he's having, and bring the whole bottle of Latour.” The waiter nodded and moved on.

“Dude, you know that Dad's gonna' blow a gasket, and Mom … well, she's gonna' freak and think you've gotten her preggers.”

Harry nodded. “So what do you think?”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and twisted his mouth, pausing in thought, and while he did, Harry took a moment himself to look at the situation.

The Winthrop family fortune was old money, made in Hollywood movies starting in the 20's. Through some shrewd investments, wise mergers, and frankly some damned good luck, the past twenty years saw the family's net worth skyrocket from just over a hundred million to well into the billions.

With that kind of money and being in such a high-profile industry, Harry was the subject of the weekly gossip papers, having gone out with many of Hollywood's rising young women, and, thanks to Harry's considerable charm and good looks, bedded many of them as well as hundreds of other aspiring actresses over the years.

And then there was Brøøk. He'd met her somewhat by accident. One Saturday evening there was a party in San Francisco and he'd gone with a sultry brunette who was hot for him. For entertainment, someone had hired this young woman who was a Top 3 finalist on American Idol. Impressive voice, Harry thought, but more than that, she had that rare kind of natural beauty.

Later in the evening as the champagne flowed and more and more people ended up outside either in or near the pool, the brunette led Harry to a secluded, second-story bathroom, L-shaped and the size of a small apartment.

Not wanting there to be any doubt of her intentions, the young woman unbuttoned her blouse, releasing her surgically-enhanced breasts, then took Harry's hands and brought them to them, kissing him hard on the lips as she maneuvered him around the corner and up against a counter.

After a minute or so of making out, the woman made eye contact with Harry and then slowly sank, tracing her fingers down his body, and never breaking eye contact. When she got to his belt her hands deftly unbuckled him and tugged down his J. Lindberg pants; Harry was sans underwear.

Half-aroused already, Harry's cock soon received the full attention and service of the woman before him. On her knees now, the hot brunette licked just the tip while one hand slowly raked down his thigh, her well-manicured nails digging in very slightly, the other hand fondling his ball sack tenderly and with a well-practiced touch.

Harry groaned a bit now, his cock swelling under her expert tutelage. He mused briefly, wondering how many other cocks she had swallowed while seeking her big break.

His thoughts snapped back to the present as her Botox-enhanced lips encircled the head of his now hard cock and slowly moved downward, taking in a couple of inches at first, then half, then nearly all of his cock, Harry hearing her gurgle a bit, struggling to swallow the whole thing, trying to impress him with her efforts. Her tongue worked the underside, moving side-to-side, laboring to get his balls churning toward the eventual eruption.

She began a bobbing of her head along the length of his now slicked cock, slowly at first, then picking up some speed as she felt his body responding. She was determined to coax his first load of the evening out now and then get him to take her home so that he could fuck her properly.

Both were so engrossed in the blowjob that neither heard the door open. The young woman who entered was listening to music on her iPod. Singing was her passion, and she loved music but she was practical and was close to graduating veterinary school at UC-Davis. She too was so into her own thoughts that when she rounded the corner it took her a second to register what was happening.

It was at that moment that Harry's cock erupted into the kneeling woman's mouth, her head continuing to bob so as to maximize Harry's pleasure as his warm cum coated her tongue.

Brook stopped in her tracks, eyes wide at the lewd spectacle before her. Harry's eyes opened slowly and registered her presence. He was going to say something but the woman who witnessed the end of the virtuoso blowjob turned and exited.

The brunette prudently swallowed and released Harry's now softening cock, then licked it clean and put it back inside his trousers, zipping him up and then rising to her feet, the small cheshire cat grin lost on Harry, who was a bit interested in the woman who just departed.

“I'll meet you downstairs, lover,” whispered the vixen into Harry's ear, as she moved deeper into the bathroom in search of a mirror, “and we'll grab some toast.”

Harry's mind registered the comment as he gathered himself and then walked out of the bathroom …

His reverie was broken by his brother's voice.

“Helloooooo,” said Tommy, a little louder this time, “a toast?” Harry could see that he was holding a glass of Latour in the air.

“Uh, yeah, sure thing,” picking up his own glass.

“To you, Harry. We might not always see eye-to-eye, but underneath, it's family that counts. To you and Brøøk, I wish you many years of happiness!”

They both drank to that, and finished off the wine before departing the restaurant, the waiter happily depositing the Ben Franklin in his pocket.

1998

The wind had been howling for a couple of hours, the rain pelting everything in its path for twice that time. It was only the outer fringes of the super typhoon, but certainly enough to chase the kids from their beach house into the cave.

“Lynny,” said Charlie, a bit of frustration creeping into his voice, “you can't jump backwards unless you've been kinged. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

On the floor between them was a large mat of reeds that had been put together by Charlie. He had used some crushed berries to stain some of the squares, in effect making a checkerboard. Some searching by the two of them had produced enough indigenous nut shells to create the checkers. Charlie had scorched some of them in the fire to make half of them black, and used crushed berries to stain the other half red.

Teaching 10-year-old Lynny how to play was another thing. She had more interest in finding fun things to eat than playing “some stupid game” as she had called it. Charlie would get her to play usually as payment for something he'd do for her, like fetch firewood when it was her turn.

“I just do it, Charlie, because it's funny to see you get mad,” she said, her impish smile framed by her long, golden tresses.

Charlie flipped the board over, sending the pieces airborne and then stormed out of the cave, his pride hurt by the one other inhabitant of the relatively small, insignificant South Pacific island.

He quickly realized that he wasn't going anywhere, that it was too dangerous to be outside. Still, he was irritated, so he stood right outside the entrance, mostly shielded from the potentially hazardous wind. He was getting rained upon, but that didn't bother him. Over the past three years, a lot of things that would normally bother him no longer did.

Survival was tricky. Water wasn't a problem, as the island was big enough to generate enough for two kids. Food was the issue. There was plenty of it, fruits, nuts, and of course fish, but knowing what to eat and what not to eat was the challenge. Both had gotten sick a number of times from eating berries or certain kinds of fish. But they had learned.

They built a “HELP” sign on the beach, but being out of any normal commercial airline route, they rarely ever saw a plane, and when they did, it was way too high in the sky to make a difference. Still, they had hope.

The saving grace was the one suitcase that had actually followed them to the island a few days after they floated to it. Inside had been the normal things, clothes and bathroom items, plus several school books, a children's encyclopedia set, a dictionary, all for tutoring. There was also a carton of cigarettes along with a package of disposable lighters.

At first they used the lighters without much thought, but then Lynny realized that they had a finite amount of lighter fluid. Shortly thereafter they made a plan to start a fire and then to keep it going. It worked well until the heavy rainy season arrived. That rain forced them to explore the island in search of shelter, and that's when they discovered the cave.

Three years later, they had explored the whole island and found some neat places. Two miles wide and almost five miles long (although they had no way of knowing this), the island housed a small, freshwater pond near the center, rain coming off of the nearby peaks continuously filling it. Aside from drinking water, it was their “vacation” spot, and they'd visit it weekly and swim in the warm water.

Aside from birds and lizards, the island was pretty much barren of animals, so there were no snakes or other dangers to contend with. The ocean surrounding them was a different story. Underwater dangers lurked nearby, so they didn't venture into the surf often.

The search for survivors of the Papaia Ka Hua, or Forbidden Fruit, had long been abandoned.

Present Day

The wedding was lavish, even by American royalty standards. Harry's parents were initially more than dismayed at his choice of a bride. She was quite beautiful and polite, but, she just wasn't in his social class.

Brøøklyn was born to middle class parents who were both deceased. She'd received money that enabled her to go to college (UCLA) where she'd graduated with honors, then on to medical school where she'd turned to veterinary science as her discipline. She was working in a small, private practice outside San Francisco, a no-kill shelter that relied quite a bit on donations.

It was late one night about two months after she had sung at that fancy party when she was working the emergency overnight shift that a man came crashing through the doors, cradling a large dog that had obviously suffered trauma.

“What happened?” she asked as her and an assistant rushed out to the lobby with a cart on wheels that looked similar to a hospital bed.

“She was hit by a car. The bastard never even stopped. I saw what happened and brought her here” said the guy, breathing heavily from carrying the heavy mastiff, the blood stains on his shirt indicative of the extent of the injuries. He placed the dog on the cart, no movement from her, just whimpering.

“Okay, you can come back with us if you want, just stay out of the way,” she ordered and then rattled off some instructions to her assistant as she pushed the heavy dog through some swing doors and down a hallway to the surgery room.

The guy followed, and for the next 45 minutes, the vet and assistant worked on the dog tirelessly, but in the end, the injuries were just too extensive.

Dr. Wilson removed her bloody gloves and dropped them into the hazardous waste receptacle in the operating room, then turning to speak to the man who brought in the dog and had stayed in the room the entire time except for a few minutes halfway through.

“Since it wasn't you who hit the dog, you're technically not responsible for the charges. Thanks for trying,” and she continued out of the room to the private lounge to get some water to drink.

A minute later the door opened and it was the receptionist. “Dr. Wilson, who is that man?” referring to the guy.

Brøøklyn recognized him from the party, but didn't say anything as mixing personal and business wasn't something she did.

“No one of consequence. Why?”

The receptionist smiled broadly. “Well, he not only paid the charges for that dog, in full, but he also wrote us a check for $95,000 as a donation!”

Brøøklyn was stunned, first at the size of the donation, when most of their contributions were in the $50 to $100 range, and second at who gave the donation.

Harry was out at his Porsche Turbo, retrieving a clean shirt from the small trunk space at the front of the car, when he heard the chimes on the door to the clinic. He closed the trunk and was opening the driver's side door when he Brøøklyn called out to him, walking toward him in the parking lot.

“Pretty amazing donation, Mr. Winthrop,” she said, her eyes darting to the check she was holding to be sure of the last name. “Why?”

Harry closed the door. “I saw a sign that you needed donations, and when I saw how hard you were working to save that dog, well, good cause and all that. As to why that odd amount … if I want to spend $100k or more on any project or anything at all, it has to go through an internal family review. Didn't want that, so, $95k and no questions get asked.”

She debated her next question for a moment. “Do you recognize me?”

Harry glanced at her with a puzzled look. “You do look familiar, but I can't place where we might have met.”

Brøøklyn blushed. “A party.”

Harry smiled weakly. “Um, I go to a lot of parties.”

The color remained in her cheeks. “About two months ago. I sang at the party. We met … in the bathroom … .”

Harry scrunched up his face, his brow furrowed, and then his eyes got really big and his mouth gaped open.

“You're gonna' catch flies like that,” she said.

Harry smiled bashfully now, his head down, shoulders a little hunched … he even kicked at a small stone.

That's kinda' cute, she thought, a small smile forming on her face.

“Um, you, um, you didn't really catch me at my b---” he began, but got interrupted.

“I do believe I did catch you,” her small smile transforming into a smirk.

“Heh. I saw what you did there. So, um, you like to sing AND you're a vet too?” he said, somewhat desperately trying to change the subject.

Brøøklyn thought for a moment, and then decided to let him get off the hook.

“Yeah. It's a longer story, though, than I have time for now.”

“Um, how about I buy you breakfast, you know, when you're done here for the night?”

That was the beginning of what was the end of Harry's wild nights as a bachelor. He was so taken by the blonde beauty, by her quick wit and intelligence, and by her caring nature that he settled into the relationship like it was a second skin.

He kept it quiet, though, because he was concerned about his parents giving him crap about not dating at his station.

Money, of course, was not a problem, not with his family's resources. Brøøklyn continued to work at the clinic, but it was now one of the most well-funded clinics in the Bay area.

There was a lavish wedding, even though Brøøklyn tried to rein in the expenses. Harry's Mom had to keep assuring her that cost wasn't a concern. Harry's parents eventually came around and grew from being just cordial to admiration and then to love. When Harry & Brøøklyn talked about having a baby, that thrilled Harry's Mom, who reveled at the thought of becoming a grandmother, like so many of her high society friends. She wanted bragging rights too.

Then tragedy stuck without warning.

2003

It was Lyn's birthday. Or so they celebrated it. With no calendar, and with no watch or any other way to keep track of time, they knew the phrase “Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November. All the rest have 31 except February which has 28 or 29.” A few years back they gathered up enough rocks to create a “rock calendar” inside the cave, away from the elements. Of course they had no way of knowing which month it was since it was several years from the sinking, so they simply guessed.

June 23 was Lyn's birthday, and according to their calendar, it was supposed to be that day. Charlie had some special treats set up for Lyne.

Last year, while exploring an area of more dense canopy, they found an old, dilapidated shack that looked like it hadn't been occupied in many, many years. Inside they found some crude furniture, some tools, basic items like rope and nails and piece of wood, some kitchen items, some cloth, and they also found a bicycle, of all things.

Over the past couple of months, Charlie would sneak away at times and he'd go back to the shack and work on his special project. Today would be the unveiling of it.

As Lyn woke up, Charlie was standing there, a beaming smile on his face.

“Good morning sleepy head! You ready to celebrate your birthday, Lynny the Leopard?”

Lyn got excited as she realized that it was her birthday. Charlie left her “room” and waited for her outside.

Lyn got up, naked from her sleep, and tossed on her tattered shirt, which was a long, oversized t-shirt from the suitcase, and grabbed her “purse”, which was a woven straw worker's hat found in the shack that she'd attached string to in order to keep it closed, and where she kept her favorite possessions. She then joined Charlie outside.

Much to her surprise, there was a chariot awaiting her! Or at least it seemed like a chariot to her. Charlie was standing by his creation. Having taken the two bicycle wheels, he managed to piece together what could only be described as an odd-looking South Seas rickshaw. There was a platform where someone could sit, a crude but serviceable covering to protect the rider from the sun. Beautiful flowers picked from the forest now adorned the carriage. Two long limbs had been whittled down to create the handles to pull the carriage.

“Charlie? Did you build this all for me?” Lyn was wide-eyed with wonder.

“I did. Please get in, we have a journey to make!”

Lyn enthusiastically got in and Charlie began pulling her along the path into the forest. It wasn't the smoothest of rides, but Lyn was thrilled nonetheless. She watched Charlie, who was just dressed in the same old shorts he always wore, with no shirt, and his sandals, pulling her, admiring the muscles in his back and arms.

Less than half an hour later they emerged from the forest into the clearing where the freshwater pond was located. Lyn saw that Charlie had built something else. Six tree limbs were sticking out of the ground, and a blanket from the shack was draped over them, providing cover from the sun. Underneath was a small table from the shack, and two wooden chairs. She saw that Charlie had fixed them up because they now could actually allow someone to sit on them. Flowers adorned one of the chairs, and the tree limbs. One chair had what looked to be a plump cushion on it.

Charlie pulled the carriage up close and then set the limb handles down on two pylons of rocks that he created to keep it level. Then he went over to the side and extended his hand to his best friend, who grinned and took it as she stepped out of her magical coach.

“Princess Lynny, welcome to your palace. Please sit on the throne while I bring you breakfast.”

Lynny, nonplussed, went and took a seat. As she sat down, she saw that Charlie had sewn material together to make a pillow of sorts, filled with leaves for cushioning.

She then watched him go over to a small fire pit that he must have started earlier in the morning and saw him add some kindling to create a flame. He took what she recognized as the metal top of the medical case that was inside their raft and placed it on some sticks that were leaning toward the center of the fire pit, creating a shelf of sorts. She then saw him reach into the grass nearby and pull out some eggs. She knew them to be from a small seabird colony on the far end of the island, very tasty but rare to find.

Charlie cracked open the three eggs into the medical case “pan”, which was heated from the flame below. She could hear them sizzle and watched as Charlie mixed them up with a screwdriver-like tool from the shack. He's making me scrambly eggs!

Charlie went to the water and pulled a small bag-like sack from the water and brought it over to the fire. Opening the bag, he took some of the contents out and put it too in the pan. He looked at Lyn and saw her trying to figure out what he added, and he smiled and went back to cooking.

Lyn noticed the table had a cloth over it, and on her side was the one fork that they had between them, again, found in shack. Near the fork was the glass vial that they kept filled with salt, made from evaporating the sea water.

Two minutes later, Charlie, with a cloth covering his hand, took it off of the cooking shelf and brought it over to her and set it down, careful to move the large flat rock underneath it so that it wouldn't scorch the tablecloth.

Lyn looked in and saw that Charlie had made the eggs into the round shape of a face, and then he'd used crab meat, caught from the beach no doubt early that morning, to create two eyes and a big smile.

“Charlie,” she squeaked out, “you made me a happy face!” Her eyes looked wet, but Charlie knew those were the start of happy tears.

“Happy Birthday, Lynny. Sorry I didn't have candles for you to blow out and make a wish.”

“Oh, you know what I'd wish for, Charlie. I'd wish the same thing that you'd wish for.”

“Well eat up, Princess, you don't want your breakfast getting cold!” he said, seeing the wistful look in her eyes. I wanna' go home too, Lynny, he thought silently.

“Okay,” she said, picking up her fork, “but you have some too. I can't eat all of this.”

They took turns eating the eggs and crab and made plans to go for a swim later.

“Hey Charlie?” asked Lyn, finishing up the last bite.

“Yes, my Princess?”

She smiled again. “I remember, I think, that when my Mom or her friends had a birthday that people would dance, and it looked fun. Would you dance with me, Charlie?”

Charlie was conflicted. He loved Lynny, of course, and would do anything for her, but, he noticed that more often when not he was around her, the thing that he peed with would get all hard and uncomfortable. His sex education up to that point was about a five minute glance at a porn mag that he'd found in the suitcase. He saw naked people doing wild things that he didn't understand, but before he could really study it, Lyn had come by and grabbed it and tossed it into the fire, saying that he could be in big trouble looking at bad stuff like that. He was mad at her for doing that, and immediately stomped off, but was also secretly relieved because looking at those people gave him the willies.

“Ummmm … sure Lynny, if you want to. But, there's no music. Don't you need music to dance?”

Lyn got up and walked to where the ground was clear of things that could trip them.

“No, we don't need music. Come here, I'll show you.”

Charlie shrugged and walked over to her.

“Here,” she began, “you take your hand and put it here,” she continued, placing his right hand at the small of her back, “and then you put the other hand around this side,” and she put his other hand there too, effectively having him encircle her.

“Then,” she said,”I put my hands here,” and she put them on his shoulders, “and I put my head here,” she went on, putting her head against his chest, pressing her body against his, “and then we just slowly move side to side.”

Charlie was now in a panic. His thing was growing rapidly and he was sure that--.

“Charlie,” asked Lyn, moving her head a bit to look up at him, “what's that in your pocket that's poking me?”

Present Day

“Please?” Brøøklyn was looking at Harry with her puppy-dog eye look.

“Dammit. I just changed. Why couldn't you have asked me ten minutes ago?” Harry was scowling at his wife who was sitting on the sofa, watching the latest episode of Hawaii 5-0.

“I'm sorry, babe. I just got a craving. Pleaseeeee?”

Harry knew he was gonna' go get the ice cream. It was just a routine of theirs. Then he thought of something.

“Incentive?” He smiled.

She looked at Harry and thought about his query. Brøøklyn then opened her mouth slowly, then traced her tongue around her lips seductively.

Harry shook her off.

She looked shocked, then smiled as she knew what he wanted. Her legs were stretched out in front of her. She slowly parted them, then inched her bathrobe up, up, up until she exposed herself to her husband.

He nodded and started moving toward her, and she promptly closed them and pulled the bathroom back down, covering herself.

“Savage,” he said, his disappointment apparent.

“When you get home, you'll get that, and much more, babe.”

The call came about forty minutes later. As Harry was getting out of the car in front of the Dairy Queen, he was struck by a drunk driver and instantly killed.

Brøøklyn had dropped the phone in shock. She had found out that morning that she was six weeks pregnant with his child, and planned on telling him the next day at a romantic lunch that she'd arranged.

She blamed herself for his death, and to her dismay, so did most of his family, such was their grief. Tommy was one who didn't blame her. They weren't particularly close, not because they didn't like each other. Quite the opposite. Whenever they got together, they enjoyed each other's company. It was just that their lifestyles were somewhat different, running in different circles, that kept them mostly apart save for holidays or infrequent gatherings.

After taking some time off from the clinic to mourn her loss, Brøøklyn went back to her work, trying to immerse herself in it to quell the crush of emptiness that was her life. She had marginal success.

Because of the continued unfavorable vibes coming from Harry's parents and other relatives, she never bothered to tell them of her pregnancy. She didn't even tell Tommy, preferring not to put him in the awkward situation of knowing something important that she didn't want shared with his parents.

But as fate would have it, a few months into her pregnancy, Tommy showed up at her penthouse, unannounced. It was such a Tommy thing to do. It was a Saturday evening and naturally Brøøklyn was staying in. Dressed in just her bathrobe and panties, when the door bell rang, she expected it to be either FedEx or UPS making a delivery. If it were a stranger, she would have been contacted by the front desk.

Opening the door, her surprise at seeing Tommy registered plainly. He was smiling and carrying two bottles of wine.

“Ohmygosh … Tommy!” she started, and then saw his expression lessen.

“If this is a bad time, I can come back some other--” she cut him off.

“No! You're fine, come in, come in,” and she ushered him in and knew why she wasn't contacted by security.

“Are you sure?” he said, putting the bottles of wine on the granite counter. “I just hadn't seen or heard from you in a couple of months, and I know what assholes my parents are being.”

Brøøklyn sighed. “I know. I can understand their initial reaction, but now, months later, after having time to rationalize things … “ she let her voice trail off and bowed her head a bit.

Tommy looked at her for a moment. “Let me guess, they cut off the money.”

Her head snapped up at the mention of money, and he saw anger rising.

“I know, you don't care about the money. It's just such a typical dick move by them. Can't tell you how many times I've been cut off.” His quirky smile allowed her to cool off and actually chuckle.

“You've changed things around I see. Looks nice,” he said, taking his coat off and draping it over a chair. He saw that she'd moved some the furniture around and swapped out some artwork. One end of the sofa was replete with stuffed animals; he remembered that she loved them.

“Let me get you a glass of wine,” she said, retrieving a corkscrew.

“Here,” he said, semi-rushing over, “let me do that. It's one of the few good things I can do in the kitchen, other than make eggs.”

Brøøklyn smiled and handed him the tool, then got one large wine glass out for him.

The pop from the cork came next, and as Tommy started to pour a glass for him, he looked and didn't see another.

“Don't tell me you're not joining me? I got some good stuff since I knew I was coming over here, ha ha” he said, then saw her sigh and knew something was up.

“C'mon, you can tell me, really,” he said, moving over to sit in a chair next to the sofa, taking a slug of his drink.

“I'm pregnant,” she blurted out.

Tommy spewed his drink, getting a fair amount on him as well as the hardwood floor.

“Shit! Sorry,” he said, immediately getting up and wrapping his shirt around the drink to stop it from dripping further.

Brøøklyn started to laugh, and then Tommy joined in, and the both of them continued, each other's laughter seeming to egg the other one on further.

Finally, with some tears shed and some additional cleaning up, they were able to settle back down, Brøøklyn with a glass of water, Tommy with another glass of wine and a promise not to spill it.

“You haven't told anyone?”

“Well, not on your side of the family. A couple of friends know.” She picked up a remote and pointed it at the fireplace, and a few seconds later heat started filling up the room, taking the chill out of the air.

“Can't say I blame you there, but you could have told me. Hell, I have lots of secrets that never get told to Mom and Dad.” He took a large sip from the glass.

“I know. I was getting around to it.”

“I see you moved your collection of stuffed animals out here. Harry is probably looking down in disdain,” and seeing her smile let him know that it wasn't too soon to say his name.

Tommy looked the animals over and then fixated on one, not very large, but fairly realistic in design.

“Nice leopard there,” he said, nodding toward the collection.

“Let me guess its name--”

“Her name,” she corrected.

“Okay, her name. Let's see, how about Lynny the Leopard?” he offered, looking at it and remembering back all those many years to his time on the island with his best friend, and lover, the lover he'd never seen or heard from once they were rescued.

He glanced in her direction and saw an expression of abject incredulity, her face drained of all color.

“What ...” he asked, wondering what wrong nerve he'd struck.

“Ch--Cha--,” she swallowed and tried again, “Char—Charlie?!”

The two just looked at each other, and time stood still.

2003

Charlie turned beet red although he didn't know it, but he did know what was poking Lyn in her belly. He started to pull away but Lyn was having none of that.

“Charlie? Relax, it's okay. I know what it is,” she said, smiling to herself.

Charlie stopped dancing. “You do? How?”

“Well, since it is my birthday, if I show you something, you have to promise not to get mad at me, you know, because it is my birthday, okay?” She was looking up into his eyes, gauging his response.

“Sure. What do you have?”

Lyn let go of him and went over to the carriage and got her purse and started pulling things out of it, little dolls she'd made, a stuffed panda, some rocks, and then he saw her pull something out that was wrapped in some kind of cloth. She brought it over to him.

“You promised, remember?” she said sternly. He nodded.

She unwrapped the outer covering and he saw the charred remains of the smut magazine that she'd tossed in the fire. Some of the pages were burned away, but most of it was still intact. He furrowed his brow and looked at her.

“Don't. You promised.” She waited and he didn't say a word. “When you got mad and left, I pulled it out of the fire and buried it in the sand. It stayed there for years. One day I thought about it and went to see if I could find it. I brought it back but hid it from you.”

“Why?” He picked up the magazine, carefully, so as not to further damage it.

“I felt funny about showing it to you, with all those naughty pictures in it.”

“So what have you been doing with it?”

It was Lyn's turn to blush.

“What?” he asked.

“Charlie, one time when I was young I walked into my Mom and Dad's room at night because I woke up, and I saw Dad on top of Mom. He was doing some of the same stuff that is in that magazine.”

“Wow! Really? Wow!”

While Charlie paged through the magazine a bit, Lyn took her hand and rubbed it along the bulge that she saw.

Charlie quickly recoiled. “Hey, that's mine, what you are doing?”

“Charlie, do you think I'm sexy?”

Charlie just looked at her. “What is sexy?”

“I read it in the magazine, in one of the articles. Sexy is when a guy thinks a girl is pretty and he wants to touch her. Touch her … body.”

Lyn reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head and then dropped it to the ground.

Standing naked before Charlie, she asked once again.

“Charlie, do you think I'm sexy?”

Charlie just stood there with his mouth wide open, his eyes not far behind in diameter. There before him stood a naked girl, just like in the magazine, but this one was real. And it was his friend, Lynny.

Long blonde tresses with plenty of curl cascaded down around her shoulders, which were both tan from the exposure to the sun, and, somewhat covered in freckles, which followed a path down between her breasts.

Not knowing what they were, Charlie nonetheless took note of the two of them too, about the size of the fruit that grew on the trees not far from where they were standing, but much nicer than the fruit. He saw that she had darker circular marks on her breasts just like he did. Hers, he thought, looked nicer.

Continuing the southern trend of his look at her, he noticed some light colored hair between her legs. He looked back up to her face and noticed that her freckles looked like they really belonged now that he saw them on other parts of her body.

“You—you really are Lynny the Leopard!” It was the best that he could do on short notice.

Lyn put her hands on her hips and gave him the look that he recognized when he had not answered one of her questions.

“Oh! Sexy … sexy, yes, yes, you are sexy. Really sexy.”

“Good!” she smiled. “I've read that magazine a hundred times so I know everything there is to do. Want me to teach you?”

“Um. Sure!” Tommy wasn't sure, but did think his thing was ever harder in his life and it felt uncomfortable in that sack that hung beneath it.

“Okay!” and with that, Lyn went over to the tent-like structure that Tommy had built and took the tablecloth, placed it on the ground and then called him over.

Tommy had watched her walk away and for some reason he didn't understand, his focus was on her butt as she walked.

He walked over to his naked friend and she pulled him down to the ground.

“Kiss me,” she ordered.

Tommy shrugged and leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, like he used to do his Mom and sometimes his Dad when he was really young.

“No,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “not like that, Tommy. C'mere,” and Lyn motioned him to get closer to her, which he did. Then she leaned into him and planted her mouth right on his mouth.

At first Tommy was surprised and not sure, but then, a few seconds into the kiss, after the surprise wore off, he started to like it. And her, her, well, the things on her chest, they feel nice pressed up against me, he thought.

Then he felt something tickling his lip as they kissed and he quickly realized that it was her tongue. He opened his mouth a bit and in darted her tongue. He heard her moan just a bit, and then press those things harder against his chest, or maybe it was those smaller circles that got harder.

He felt one of her hands behind his hand, but it was the other hand that got his attention when it touched his chest, and then started to slowly slide down his body. As it kept going further, he opened one of his eyes and tried to adjust his eyesight to see where it was going and whether it was gonna' go touch his pee thing again, which was really, really, really hard.

“Tommy,” she whispered, breaking off the kiss, “it's called your cock, or your penis, both names mean the same thing.”

“I like cock. Pee-nis just sounds dirty. Cock. COCK!”

Brøøklyn giggled.

“Okay Charlie, we'll call it a cock. Your cock.” Charlie smiled. Then he thought of something.

“You don't have a cock, do you?” Charlie looked alarmed.

“No, I don't. Only boys. Girls have a vagina,” said Brøøklyn, matter-of-factly.

“Ewwww. That's a bad sounding word. Let's call it something else, please?”

“How about pussy?” She smiled at Charlie and then saw him grin.

“I like that! Here pussy, pussy, pussy!”

As they both laughed and giggled, Brøøklyn moved her hand on top of the tent that had formed between Charlie's legs and started rubbing. Charlie immediately shut up, but, he did not pull away.

“Th-that feels nice,” he said, and seemingly on auto-pilot he moved his hand over to one of her … her things.

“Mmmmmm … that's nice, Charlie. They are called breasts, or tits. I looked up both in the dictionary from the suitcase,” said Brøøklyn as she continued rubbing Charlie's hard-on through his clothing. “Breasts were there, but tits were not.”

“I like tits,” said Charlie, who was feeling the effect of Brøøklyn's hand.

“I like tits too,” chimed in the girl, who noticed that her nipples were hardening, much like when she rubbed herself between her legs.

“Charlie, will you do something for me?”

Charlie just looked at her.

“Will you rub me … down there? My … pussy?”

Charlie was nervous but he was hoping that she'd say something like that because he was really curious what she had hidden between her legs.

“Sure,” and he started to move the hand from her breasts to that other place, but Brøøklyn intercepted his hand with her own, no longer rubbing his bulge.

“Hey, don't stop,” moaned Charlie, “I can do this on my--” and he got cut off.

“Charlie? Let me show you what feels good for me, okay? Then I'll go back to rubbing you.”

“Okay, okay, sure, okay,” said the boy, babbling a bit.

Brøøklyn took his hand and put it between her legs. Charlie felt his hand graze against the soft hair and continue onward until she pressed his fingers down at her clit. Charlie noticed the area was a little wet.

“Just rub gently in little circles, Charlie. Nice and gently.”

Charlie had momentarily forgotten about his own needs and just did what she said, and rubbed.

“Yesssssss, that's exactly right, Charlie. Just keep doing that until I tell you to stop.” Brøøklyn returned her hand to Charlie's bulge and began rubbing once more.

Because of the angle of their bodies, in that position so that both could rub the other, one of Brøøklyn's breasts were right in front of his face.

“Lynny, what's that circle there called?”

“That'sssa nipple, Charlie. You … you can kiss it if you want. You'll like it, and it'll make me happy.”

As happy as his younger friend was making him feel right now, Charlie wanted nothing more than to make her happy, so he dove down with his mouth and began kissing the nipple. Instinct took over, and he enclosed the nipple with his mouth and began sucking on it, moving his tongue to and fro over it. He heard Lynny moan and he felt more tightness between his legs, in that mysterious sack.

“Lynny,” he said, stopping the sucking for a moment, “is there other things that we can do?”

Brøøklyn had flashes of pictures from the magazine.

“Yes, Charlie … there are more things that we can do!”

“Like what?”
Present Day

Tommy/Charlie sat there with his mouth open.

“What the fuck?” he said.

“Charlie? Is it really you? After all these years?” said Brøøklyn, tears quickly forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Lynny? Are you kidding me? Lynny?”

“Yes, Charlie,” and now there were sobs, with all kinds of emotions racing through her head, “it's me. But how?”

Seeing his dead brother's wife, his boyhood companion and lover, crying, he quickly got up and moved to the sofa, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest. Charlie too felt moisture in his eyes but he let the tears fall, not willing to remove his arms from comforting Lyn.

What the fuck just happened, he thought to himself. How is any of this even possible?

His mind went back to the last time he saw Lynny, or, now that she was in his arms, the last time he saw her before the separation.

It was a beautiful day, like a thousand others, when Charlie and Lyn woke up. Sleeping in the same bed since Lyn's birthday a few months earlier, they cuddled, as there was no rush to get up, no rush to eat, no rush to bathe. They had decided yesterday that today they'd pack a few things and go off to the far side of the island, just for something different.

As was typical in the morning, Charlie awoke with wood, which always seemed to get a giggle from Lyn. As they spooned, Lyn could feel Charlie's hardness pressing against her, and knew that, like most mornings, they would pleasure each other.

She felt Charlie start lightly kissing her shoulders and her neck. The arm wrapped around her had his hand positioned right at her breasts. He casually would lightly touch her nipples, just barely grazing them but sending shivers of pleasure through her body. She responded by rubbing her butt against his hard-on.

Finally she'd had enough and sat up, tossing the light sheet covering them. She looked down and saw his hard cock pointing straight up at her.

Breakfast, she thought to herself, and moved so that her knees were astride his shoulders. She started to lick his cock as she slowly brought her pussy down to his lips and waiting tongue.

They were too busy engaged in the 69 to pay attention to any noise outside their shelter. With no predators and no snakes, they really had no worries at all.

The first one through the entrance was Charlie's dad, followed by his older brother Harry and an armed man. Several others remained outside. There was a gasp from Charlie's father, and Harry's eyes went twice as wide as his Dad's.

Lyn, on top, had her eyes closed as she savored the nice cock in her mouth, and knew that Charlie's tongue would have her climaxing soon. She briefly opened her eyes at the sound, the gasp, and saw three men watching them.

She didn't scream, but she did release Charlie's cock from her mouth. Charlie thought she was just catching her breath and continued on with his oral ministrations for a few seconds until Lyn, temporarily distracted by the site of human in their shelter, felt him touch her clit with his tongue and then reality hit, and she simultaneously rolled off of Charlie and grabbed the sheet, covering herself up as best she could.

Charlie thought for a pleasurable moment that she was getting off because she wanted to ride him, another favorite of theirs. When the three men registered, the pleasure was fleeting as he quickly got up, hearing the closest man speak.

“Good God, Charles Thomas Winthrop! What in the name of God are you doing?”

Non-plussed, confused and shocked beyond shock at seeing his father and older brother standing before him, he replied without thinking:

“69.”
2003

“69,” said Lyn, very excited to try out the position in the magazine that most captivated her imagination.

“What's that?”

“I'll show you. First, take your clothes off, please.”

Charlie set the island record for stripping, much to Brøøklyn's amusement.

“Okay,” she said, eyeing his cock as he moved, “now lay down on your back.” Charlie complied, and she continued on with her explanation.

“Now, you have to trust me, Charlie. Do you trust me?”

“Of course, silly. I trust you.”

“Good,” she said with emphasis. “What I'm going to do is lay down on top of you, except my head will be pointed at your feet, and my feet will be near your head. Once I do that, I will be able to kiss and lick your … cock … like I saw in the magazine. You will be able to reach my pussy with your mouth, and you can lick it. It is supposed to feel really, really, really great. Wanna' try?”

Charlie was stunned a bit by the explanation, and a little wary of licking the unknown between her legs, but, he was excited and he sure did trust Lynny. And, anything she can do, I can do better, he thought cockily.

“Sure.”

With that, Brøøklyn carefully moved on top of him, hitting him in the shoulders with her knees twice as she tried to get situated just right. When she did, she gave Charlie's cock a lick, starting with the head and going down the entire length of the underside.

“Ohmigod,” was the muffled reply as his face was covered in wet flesh and all sorts of squirming goodness as he started licking her with abandon.

Amidst her groan of pleasure, Brøøklyn opened her mouth and took half of Charlie's cock inside of it. Remembering what she read, she began moving her mouth up and down the shaft, careful not to hit him with her teeth, and sucking hard on the out stroke.

That was simply too much for Charlie. He felt something good happening but he had no clue. All he knew was that nothing in his life ever felt this good, even coming in first in the local Soap Box Derby race.

Lynn was feeling the effects of Charlie's tongue. What he lacked in experience, and he certainly lacked that, he made up for with zestful youth, as his tongue darted here and there, licking, always licking.

Charlie exploded into her mouth, the first orgasm of his life, the first time cum shot from him. Such was Lynn's immersion in her task and in Charlie giving her pleasure that it took three spurts before she became unsexed enough to figure out that he was ejaculating in her mouth. By that time, there was no choice but to swallow or choke, so she swallowed. She wasn't sure that, after reading about it in the magazine, she was going to do that when she “gave head”, but good intentions aside, she continued swallowing, completely draining the teen.

To his credit, Charlie didn't pull away during his orgasm. If anything, the vibrations from his lips against her lips helped as he was moaning and speaking and licking all at the same time. That, plus the excitement of bringing Charlie to climax, was plenty to give Lynn her orgasm. She knew all about them and the good feelings they brought.

As the two of them calmed down and settled from their first sexual experience, Charlie caught his breath and stuck his head back so that he could speak clearly.

“Lynny, are there any other numbers that we can try next?”
Present Day

The humor of the teen's answer didn't amuse his father, but Harry burst out laughing, then covered his mouth with his hand and turned away after getting a withering look from his old man.

Flustered, and that was a condition that was mostly unknown to the patriarch of the Winthrop family, he nevertheless tried his best.

“Good to see you, boy. Now get dressed, both of you, and gather what you,” he looked around and saw the sparse, crude fixtures and less than natty clothes, “... well, gather up anything you want to take. We're going home.” And with that, the elder statesman walked out, trying to get the images of that naked, young girl out of his head.

A few minutes later, the two emerged from the structure, the girl with a hat/bag, and the boy with a large sheet bundle that was twisted to keep it closed. Two of the security agents carried the bags, and the group set of for the beach. There Charlie saw a rescue boat beached with a small crew waiting, and a large helicopter on the sand.

The security agents escorted Brøøklyn to the boat and helped her in, then several of them pushed it off into the water, where the motor engaged and began taking her out to the ship which looked to be moored a half-mile or so out.

Charlie meekly protested being separated but his father interrupted.

“She's going to the boat to meet up with some family. You're coming with us on the helicopter. You'll see her later.” Reluctantly, Charlie waved, and Lynny waved back at him.

That was the last he saw of her; simply another of his father's lies. The Sea King, with a capacity of 20 people and a range of about 750 miles as a military weapon, had been converted for personal use, and was more comfortable, and had almost twice the range. They first flew to Kiribati, made a fuel stop, then on to Pago Pago in American Samoa, to Fiji, and finally to Auckland, New Zealand, where the family's private plan to the entourage back to the States.

As Tommy now held Brøøklyn, he remembered that despite his pleas, his begging, his willingness to do any favor, his father would not allow him further contact with her. Tommy had no number, no address, no real way to make contact with her.

“She's different than us, son. You need to let her go live her life, and you, well, you need to concentrate on getting an education, young man. That's your primary concern.”

A seed of hate was planted in Tommy's mind toward his father. He abandoned the name Charles and went by Tommy, or Thomas when need be. If anyone called him Charles or Charlie, he ignored them.

Tommy was snapped out of his reverie by Brøøklyn pulling away.

“I need a drink,” she said, starting to walk to the bar.

“Pregnant?” was Tommy's input.

“Shit,” she uttered, “you're right, of course, thanks.”

Tommy thought for a moment.

“Hey! I have an idea. Give me half an hour?” he asked.

“Sure, Tom-- um, Charlie, Tommy … Christ, what do I call you?”

“Anything,” he said, trying to lighten the mood a bit, “but don't call me late for dinner.”

Brøøklyn stared at him for a moment, then cracked up, and he joined her in a nice belly laugh.
Epilogue

Tommy had gone off to the local produce market and procured some stuff while Brøøklyn showered and got dressed. When he returned he told her to stay out of the kitchen. Ten minutes later, after hearing various loud noises, Tommy came out with two half-shells of coconuts, and handed one to her.

Brøøklyn just stared into the “bowl” and what she saw brought her back for a moment. Tommy had drained the coconut milk and carved out some of the excess, then had bought some exotic fruit and had blended it all together.

They had made drinks similarly on the island, without the blender. They used rocks to grind up the fruit into pulp and only did it for special occasions.

“Oh Tommy,” she said, her eyes looking wet once again, “you remembered.” She smiled and it made him smile too. Wiping some of the tears away, they drank.

And they talked. They stayed up that whole night, then caught some sleep, her in her bed, him on the sofa. They awoke and began talking again, some laughs, some tears, and a lingering longing in the silences that ensued.

The next day they decided it was silly to ignore their feelings. So, despite the relatively short time between Harry's death and that day, they both couldn't dismiss the bonds that had been forged many years ago, on some land that was far, far away.

The End.

 

Wow A tale of first love with a twist. I could not stop reading from the time I started to the time I finished. Thank you for your submission.

 

From the title, I thought this was gonna' be something about a person's love of an animal. Wrong. It's an intricate love story that gets told through effective shifts in time. It's funny, I'm personally going to the theatre tonight to see a play that has two scenes that go back and forth, 50 years apart. But, I digress. No grammar problems that I could see. Different formatting would have helped to somehow distinguish between current and flashback, but formatting is always tough here and when you don't post a story yourself. Good visuals, the characters were multi-dimensional and I liked the humor in there and the way you were left hanging at the end of a chapter, having to wait until two chapters later to know what happens! Kept me in my seat until I was done. Very well done.

 

So well-written and well-told. Great descriptions and dialogue. This was a really enjoyable read, from beginning to end. Great work.

 

My sixth read and my favorite so far. After 8 years thinking his kid is dead, the father sure acted like a dick, which I guess he was.
Nice work.

 

A rather leisurely telling of a sweet story of innocent love, I liked the sex once they got to it. I had difficulty in believing that they didn't recognise each other when Harry introduced them. Brøøklyn is a rather unique name, you'd think he might wonder about that. (And one time it's spelt Brook in the story.)

I'm not sure where the forbidden fruit was in the story, apart from them being forbidden to see each other by their families (who were dicks all around), and supposedly the translation of the name of the boat.

I also find it difficult to believe a 16 year old boy never worked out how to masturbate, which makes me think maybe the author is a woman.

I too loved the answer “69.”

 

bump

 

Good story, this was interesting and well written, I'll admit to not knowing where it was going. The only thing I have against it is the lack of recognition between them. I recognize people I went to school with 30 years ago and haven't seen once since.
Thanks for the story!

 

Plausability was an issue for me. But I liked the overall frame of the story and there were aspects that worked. Some of what didn't was the time jumps - they were a bit jarring. And the sex scene could have been far more amusing; I think the author missed an opportunity there. But otherwise a good effort and seemed to move at a good pace.

 

Plausibility? It's always an issue in fiction, even meticulously researched historical fiction. Hitler was misquoted -- he never said such-and-such. There was both a second and a third shooter for the JFK assassination in case the hired patsy didn't make a deadly hit. Whatever.

I enjoyed this one. Forbidden fruit -- hell, depending on your moral code, premarital sex is forbidden fruit, so I think we're covered there. Not sure of the identity of the writer -- could be someone we haven't seen before.

This one should get some votes.

 

I did wonder as I hadn't focussed on the date if it was the Titanic

Loved the polar opposite character of the brothers, it came through with ease.

Was the female protagonist based on Brooke White from idol? A bit of fan fiction?

Ok, I noticed a couple of things- There was checker instead of checked, you also had "private plan" it should be "plane" and really nit picking - she should have pulled his trousers up not just tucked his cock back in. You made it sound like (to me) she'd only unzipped him when in fact she'd dropped his trousers.
A little more spacing separating the different years is needed, though I know formatting can be difficult on here! Also you had in one part had "present day" and it was clearly still on the island. The notes are just in case you want to tidy it up for reposting, somewhere, on the other side maybe.


I thought the way you set it up that Harry would be a dick, but the dog thing, made me change my opinion instantly.

There were a few lol moments, the "scrambly eggs" quip and the porn mag people "giving him the willies." That was so funny. That and the "are there other numbers we can try?" Hahaha! I loved all that!

When they're talking about sex, you have them talking like young kids (obviously as their education somewhat stopped at a young age) At 15 and 16 aren't you still breaking the rules? .

Ok I really loved the story and apart from the few things noted I found it very well written and a somewhat intricate tale was woven. It was very enjoyable, yes it was long but it held my interest and the premise was a good one. I liked your style and it was easy to follow once I'd got that Tommy was older in my head

As I said I really loved it and I did, I enjoyed it but I felt the ending was a little short almost curt. I felt you maybe should have included the epilogue in the main story and also I think rather than him bringing the drinks I thought he'd have made a crab and scrambly egg smilie face. That to me would have tied it all up nicely, and given us a "awwww" moment. You'd made a great scene out of it earlier also you hadn't mentioned drinks before. Then you could have made the epilogue a brief description of what happened after -
Maybe that they became a couple, raised the baby together, family disowned them etc.

Now the other tiny mistakes didn't detract from the story at all for me, the thing that really troubled me - they didn't recognise each other? I hadn't seen my first love for over 25 years and he'd lost all his hair and he'd changed but I recognised him immediately and we weren't the only two people in the world for years and years. They would have, especially being intimate, known every mole and feature (as you nicely described) on each other . Plus eyes never change that much either.
I just can't imagine they wouldn't instantly know each other and that really cast a shadow over it for me.


At the end it felt like either someone else added the epilogue it wasn't as polished as the rest. Sorry, it's just what it seemed to me.

I may have critiqued this a lot but that's because I really loved the story up to that point, plus if I didn't love it I wouldn't spend this long reviewing it It was a an inventive well written polished (until the epilogue) story. You have a great talent and the sex was a little arousing and cute too.

So thank you for your great effort and good luck in the competition. Luvs xx

 

@luvsalik said: "Now the other tiny mistakes didn't detract from the story at all for me, the thing that really troubled me - they didn't recognise each other? I hadn't seen my first love for over 25 years and he'd lost all his hair and he'd changed but I recognised him immediately and we weren't the only two people in the world for years and years. They would have, especially being intimate, known every mole and feature (as you nicely described) on each other . Plus eyes never change that much either.
I just can't imagine they wouldn't instantly know each other and that really cast a shadow over it for me."
I agree, and wanted to add, think about the alternative. That's my kind of tale. It would have been too long for this contest, but if you rewrite this, have them know each other and twist thinks up with them having to hide it. The power of their first love would eventually draw them together, and an illicit affair ensues. Take me on that journey, please!

 

Since voting is over, it's okay for me to claim this story.

I'll have to think about the plausibility issue. I'm thinking that from middle teens, kinda' all bushy haired (no barbers or hair salons on the island) and sparse, rough clothing.........to civilization, not having seen the person in that many years, I don't know. I've been separated/divorced for about six years now, and I cannot remember my ex-wife's face. I was with her 14 years of my adult life. Keep in mind that when they were separated, they had no pictures of the other person, nothing to remember them by........that's cold turkey, no contact with someone you last saw when you were a teen, 14 years ago. What would be the odds of that person dating marrying your brother? You'd NEVER think it was the same person.

At least that's my justification.

Again, what I've learned from this is that I would need to "justify" it better. Maybe there was a disfigurement to one of them while on the island, and, then it was medically fixed when they returned to civilization. I couldn't have them any younger and involve them sexually. (And yes, @luvsalik, you can write about less than 18 once again ) A beard? Different hair color for the woman? Certainly a different hair style. Voices would change.

But, I take all your suggestions to heart. I'm not perfect, lol! Before I repost this, I'll run through it a couple of more times and make some edits and see if I can drive up the plausibility factor some.

Thanks to all of you who took the time to comment. Appreciate it.

 

Some of the issues mentionned by others, also struck me: plausibility, recognition... etc. etc. etc...

One issue that stikes me the most and was not mentionned, is who was with the boy on that ship? Was he travelling alone? If he was with his parents, how did they survive the shipwreck? If all were sunk and dead, why would the world assume that the two of them had also perished?

Just food for thoughts Horse. You know I admire your style of writing and the quality you put out. Please don't take this as a criticism,