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The Isle of Seduction

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The Isle of Seduction by Kenneth Brown

An astonishingly sensual recount of the author’s vivid experiences as a tour guide in Saint Francis of the Caribbean Islands—with its everyday nudity, intoxicating tourist resorts, and an electrifying romance that upends the author’s safe life and throws him across the line between normal and “animal” passions. It’s life in the Caribbean Islands, where the local men make a national sport of giving female tourists, nicknamed snowbirds, what they want. Now that times have changed previously closeted bisexual and homosexual men and women are also provided a full-service sexual holiday experience. When European missionaries first arrived in Africa, they looked down upon the locals being topless or totally nude. Over time, the missionaries convinced them to cover their nakedness, as the biblical Adam and Eve were commanded to do, and to repent for their sins. Now, Africans and their descendants in the Caribbean seldom wear revealing clothing and are never totally nude in public. A strange twist of fate, that Europeans take every opportunity to wear as little clothing as possible and every chance to be naked.  Includes graphic sex, virgin sex, group sex, threesomes, nudity, cunnilingus, voyeurism, some violent scenes.

Weight .99 lbs
Artist Credit

Cover Art © FlexDreams – Shutterstock.com

Page Count

164

Publish Date

9/10/2021

Word Count

39953

Excerpt

The time had come for us to move on. Dusk is the second time of the day when the female mosquito hunts for the mammalian blood she needs to feed her young. If the pesky insect could just take the blood and not inject that irritable fluid that causes the itching and, in some cases, disease, one could better tolerate being her breakfast and dinner. The injection of her body’s fluid into its prey reminds me of the oil rig I worked on once. We would pump in water and mud while sucking out the oil and natural gas. Something about keeping a pressure equilibrium to avoid a rupture or explosion. I have a friend on the island who can flex his muscle in such a way as to quickly raise his blood pressure when a mosquito is sucking blood from his arm. The increased pressure causes the little insect to explode. One hell of a sight.

Having lived on the island for years, I have developed some resistance to mosquito bites. It is because of the scent the body gives off to build immunity. I knew that Jessie would be the carnivorous little beast’s irresistible feast; I had to get her inside quickly. There are spots on the island where the shallow water pools are shaded from the sun. These locations are mosquito brothels. The newborn mosquitos, in their lava stage, swim and wait to grow and morph into an adult flying pest. The adults stay close when they are not hunting for blood. They do have other natural enemies like bats, birds, tadpoles, and other flying insects. If one is unlucky enough to be near these dark pools of stagnant water when the adults launch into the air in search of blood, one may become covered in a black robe of hungry draconian insects. I recall reading the American author James Michener’s novel Chesapeake. In his award-winning book, Native Americans said that God made mosquitos to remind humans that we are not in heaven yet, or something to that effect.

The last few hundred yards from the house, I noticed that Jessie was staring at Spike. She looked up at me and back at Spike. Then she held Spike in her hand, as if she were witnessing something she had never seen before. As I thought about it, she probably never had seen an adult penis in the flesh. She said, “I am a virgin, Uncle. I have dated and kissed. I have even let boys feel me up. Once, I was even finger fucked, but I have always been saving myself for you. I knew that somehow, someplace, I would make it happen. I think my parents have always known that I loved you more than just an uncle but as a hoped-for lover. When I was saying goodbye to them, for example, my father said to tell you, Uncle, that he said to be good to me, that I have waited a long time for this. Mom said something equally revealing. She said, ‘I hope you get what you’ve wanted for so long.’”

I was dumbfounded, to say the least. What did her parents think of me? Did they believe that I somehow encouraged her to feel this way? Or worst, did they think I was pervert?

“Don’t worry, Uncle,” she interrupted. “They know that you were a perfect uncle, and my feelings are the way they are because of me only. Once, when Mom noticed how my mood changed dramatically around you, she flat out asked me if I had a schoolgirl crush on you and if you had encouraged it. I said yes, I have a humongous crush on you. I have never lied to my parents. I said you were totally oblivious to it and did not even notice me most of the time. You were always the perfect gentleman.”

Jessie’s revelations had at once shocked me and relieved me. I had been pardoned for my sins of lust and impure thoughts. It almost felt like I had been given the blessing of her parents, my very best friends, only family I have.

“I have a confession to make, Jessie. You are the primary reason I moved thousands of kilometers away to live on Saint Francis. My affection for you had long since evolved from just an uncle and his precious niece to loving you in ways that I should not have. I was addicted to our intellectual debates. I became more interested in spending time debating you than spending time with any adult. I would catch myself staring at you and force myself to turn away. When I was not around you, I was consumed with thoughts and visions of you.

I had it bad. That was unhealthy, bordering on immoral. I knew that if you had been older, I would have confessed my love for you. So, I ran away to save my relationship with my family and my best friend. She replied, “My parents knew that, and so did we all know.” That shocked the shit out of me.

I brought the Rover to a halt at my house and placed it in first gear, which served as the parking brake, of which I had none. Normally, this was when I would give my life-in-the-tropical-island, water-conservation speech. “Don’t leave the water running when brushing your teeth or your face.” “Only flush for number 2 and take short showers.” “Wet yourself with water, turn the water off, soap up, and rinse off quickly.”

“Our freshwater comes from the rain that falls on the roof, it is precious, so please use it sparingly.” “Always, always check the shower for any critters before stepping in.” “Check your shoes before putting them on.” “Better to wear sandals.” “On those occasional nights when sleeping under covers, look under the covers and always check under the bed.”

Before I could deliver my lecture, Jessie jumped out of the motorcar, ran straight to the lagoon, and dived in. Classic Jessie. Spontaneous, fearless, and always seeking new adventures and experiences. How could I not love her? I dove in behind her. We splashed each other and raced up and down the lagoon underwater. We lay on our backs and laughed a hell of a lot. I was a kid again.

Then Jessie gave me that gaze, the gaze I had seen all her life. It was my gaze, meant for my eyes only. She moved closer and placed her arms around my neck and half-kissed my ear and half-whispered, “Fuck me, Uncle. Take me, all of me. I am yours. I have always been yours. Tomorrow, make sweet, tender love to me, but tonight, fuck me hard. I want to moan and scream and hurt. Take every part of my body and do with it whatever you will. Fuck me, please. I have waited so long! I want my dreams to come true tonight and every night and day with you.”

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