Date: Mon, 27 Dec 2004 18:49:59 EST
From: Jonah
Subject: Island Paradise      Ch 2

This story is entirely a work of fiction and it's characters
include no real people, living or dead.  This is the second
chapter of a six part serial, which I hope you'll enjoy.


The boy was about eight years old.  His left leg looked as if it might
have been broken below the knee.  His eyes were closed, but there was
both pulse and breathing.  There was also an ugly bruise over the left
temple.
Simon was watching over Carl's shoulder.  Perhaps all young boys expect
older boys to perform miracles.
"How are we going to bring him round."
Carl didn't look up.  "We're not", he replied as he started to remove his
steward's jacket and shirt.  This bit will hurt him so he's probably
better out of it for the moment. Here, tear this into strips".  He threw
his shirt to Simon and then began to make a pad of  his jacket, which he
gently placed between the boy's legs.
"What are you doing?"
Carl Had removed the boys shoes and socks and now grasped his bare foot
whist placing the other hand on his groin.
"This leg needs a splint, and we haven't got one.  We'll have to use his
other leg.  When I pull gently on his foot you start wrapping those
strips round his legs.  Tie them off with reef knots.  Do you know how to
do reef knots?"
Simon nodded.  "Learnt it in the Scouts".
Carl grinned. "That'll come in useful.  I s'pose you know how to start a
fire as well."
"Just use my glasses?"
"S'right.  We'll need to do that later on.  Hey, steady.  Easy now."
The boy began to moan, and then to cry out as the pain brought him back
to consciousness.  Carl let go of the foot and lay next to the boy,
holding him close to him and talking soothingly .  Simon was left to
finish the splinting.
"There now, its all over.  Try to stay still and it won't hurt."
He unwrapped himself from around the boy. "Best see how the others are
doing.  Stay with him  Simon; I'll come back for you when I can".
Without a word Simon laid himself alongside the stricken boy and hugged
him quietly.

Carl walked back along the beach.  He could no longer see the twins, or
their elder brother; But that did not surprise him.  The beach gave way
to what appeared to be dense forest about quarter of a mile in.  At the
point where he had washed ashore the tree-line was much nearer.  As the
sun neared it's zenith, Carl suspected that the boys had simply moved
into the shelter of the foliage.  He arrived at the section of aeroplane
wing, turned through ninety degrees, and struck out for the tree line.

He heard them before he saw them, and the sight that greeted him made him
catch his breath.  All three boys were now naked.  A twin sat with his
eyes closed; his back against a tree.
On all fours in front of him was the older boy; his head in the twin's
lap.  It was obvious that the twin's penis was in his mouth.  THe other
twin stood behind his elder brother.  Carl could not see what he was
doing with his little erection, but lack of imagination was never his
problem.  Only one of the boys was facing him, the one with his eyes
closed.  Carl - unseen - could not resist rubbing his own groin.  He was
hard in seconds.  Apart from the beautiful bubble butt of the standing
twin, a glance down showed him the soles of the feet of the other two
boys.  A good place to watch since, not only was he turned on by the
lovely boy soles, but those cute toes would be his best indicator when
the boys were about to climax.
He was nearing some sort of climax himself when the twin's toes spread
rigid.  Rory's toes instantly did the same.  Quickly and silently Carl
retreated a few yards below the tree-line.
He waited a minute and then returned, calling out as he did so,
"Hey! Fellas!"  He broke through into the clearing to find all three boys
now standing.  They appeared to be embarrassed by their nakedness, but
Carl knew that it wasn't that.  A full frontal assault was the quickest
way to deal with it.  "Hey, whatcha do with you're clothes?" he asked
with his friendliest smile.
"I guess we don't need them now", muttered Rory,without meeting his eye.
"No I guess we don't", replied Carl kicking off his own shoes, "hey, sit
down fellas.  We gotta have a chat".  The twin sat down again with his
back to the same tree.  His brothers squatted either side of him.  Carl
stripped - after all it was the best way to avoid embarrassment - he
looked at the seated twin.  He had just worked out which twin was which.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked quietly.  The boy sat still and
looked at Carl.  His eyes showed something which looked like recognition,
but he remained silent.   His twin answered for him.  " He's still a
little shook up I think.  Sorry about hitting you back there".  Carl
smiled, "you were looking after your brother", he said, "if we're going
to survive in this place we'll all have to look after each other. I'm
Carl, and I know you're Rory, 'cos Simon told me, that leaves you two."
The seated twin spoke for the first time, it sounded more like a
recitation.  "My name is Steven Thomson, I am ten years old, I live at
one, one, oh, The Headlands, Castle Brampstead, telephone ...."  His twin
took hold of his hand.  "It's all right Stevie,  you're with friends
here" he said soothingly.  He turned to Carl.  "I'm Stuart," he said
brightly, " who's Simon?".  "He means Winalot", Rory chipped in,  "Where
is he anyway?"
"He's looking after your younger brother for you", replied Carl.  "What's
he called by the way?"
"He's Toby.  Is he all right?"
"He was unconscious and he broke his leg, but he'll be OK", replied
Carl.  "I'm going to ask you to come and help us carry him back here.
This sun won't do him a lot of good.  Stuart! Can you look after Stevie
till we get back?"
"OK!"

Carl and Rory wandered down the beach.  There was little conversation.
Rory was not going to initiate one, and Carl had too much on his mind.
It was all very well being stranded on an island with five lovely boys.
At least three of them were likely to indulge in sex of some sort, but
how far should he let that go.  There was no doubt that it had done the
twins good.  It was, after all, one way of coping with the trauma; but
these boys needed love: lust could only come a poor second. In any case
what use is an island paradise where everybody starves to death.  If they
were to survive some sort of organisation would be necessary.  He would
need to call a pow-wow with Simon and Rory as soon as possible, but
that's for next time.