The Island, Chapter 16 - Sex Stories

The Island, Chapter 16

... than climb the harsh lava rock, we bore right, toward the east side of the island. The ground leveled out again in a broad plain covered in scrub and small trees, including some banana plants. We snagged a few for snacks as we walked. “”Stu, do you have any seeds left?” River asked him. Seeds? What kind of seeds? “A few,” Stu answered him. They crouched down to run their fingers through the soil. “I bet we could grow a nice crop of bud here. Let’s plant some tomorrow.” Oh, that kind of seed. At the eastern end of the plateau, the trees thickened back into jungle, and the land sloped downward toward the ocean on the other side of the island. We climbed down through dense growth until we emerged on another beach, somewhat smaller than that of our campsite. The eastern beach was the same powdery sand as on the lagoon side, but the surf was much stronger, as there seemed to be no reef on this side of the island. “If we had boards, we could ride some pretty tasty waves,” commented Stu. It was true, the surf curled into the sand in impressive breakers, pounding onto the beach with a muted roar. We walked from one end to the other, perhaps a quarter of a mile, looking for any interesting items that might have washed up. A fishing float and a tangle of rope knotted in a piece of driftwood were the only useful items we identified. River stuffed them in his backpack and we entered the trees at the southern end of the beach. The southern end of the island was dominated by a single, high ...

... mountain, clothed in greenery for more than half its height. The top third was mostly bare, just a few scattered trees and bushes. The peak was truncated, as if it had been an old volcanic cone at some point. No ominous puffs of smoke rose from its summit, so it didn’t look like we would be endangered by lava flows, at least. We climbed through the forest slowly, pushing through the dense undergrowth and sweating in the humid air. After 50 yards or so, we stumbled into another game trail, this one leading around the eastern side of the mountain. As we followed the narrow track, we seemed to be moving upward on a slight diagonal course, spiraling up the side of the peak in a clockwise direction. When we reached a point about a third of the way up the slope, the trail crossed a small rivulet of fresh water. Thinking to cool off, I splashed some on my face, and to my surprise found it fairly warm. “I bet there are hot springs up there somewhere,” Dakota said. “We have a lot of them in Oregon. You run into them hiking all the time.” Intrigued, we followed the water uphill, clambering up the steep slope until we reached a wide ledge just at the point where the jungle seemed to thin. Two pools of water sat in a rocky declivity, fed from above by a small falling stream that seemed to arise near the summit, and draining on the downhill side into the warm trickle we had followed here. Dakota stuck her hand it the larger of the pools, and said, “Yeah, these are hot springs, all right. ...