"Let me serve you ... mistress"

Kneeling before Amala's beautiful, lush body in this pristine unspoiled setting brings something out that you have never before considered. You can't imagine what your friends or grandfather would think, but letting this remarkable woman be in charge feels more honest and real than anything you ever tried with girls in the past.

"Please, let me serve you ... Mistress." You see she is as surprised as you are by the added title. It's not like some of those BSDM sites where you want to be whipped and degraded by a sadistic bitch in a leather coreset; what you want is to serve and obey Amala - in every way. There is an almost unbearable moment when all you can hear is the screeching of the birds overhead, the rumble of the waterfall and swoosh of the branches in the sea breeze and then she nods once and breaks the silence.

"Ok, John, but remember who's in charge." Her voice is soft but firm, "If I say 'stop', you stop; no questions or tricks." The feeling of relief that washes over you is almost as intoxicating as the soft skin of her thighs.

"Yes, Ma'am." You bow your head to hide the huge grin that you know must be hanging on your face as you turn your attention to massaging her legs slowly removing article after article of clothing until she is stretched out before you like an ancient goddess.

As much as you want to feel her magnificent tits, you instead return to serving her as you promised. Now as you stroke her body your lips follow the path of your fingers kissing and licking at every square inch of her inner thighs until your nose is less than an inch away from her dripping sex. The exotic earthy scent of her womanhood drives you mad with need, but before tasting the swollen petals you once again look up waiting for permission.

"You're doing fine, John." She assures you and reclines the rest of the way onto the smooth rock before spreading her legs a little wider in an unmistakable invitation. You've never tasted anything this good in your life. You've given head to you high school girlfriend, but she tasted more of body wash than anything else; Amala's juices are as exotic and spicy as her golden skin and endearing accent, and you take your time sucking and nibbling on her every fold before searching for her hidden clitoris. "Good boy, John, you're amazing!" The captain's wife's finger curl into your hair and she pulls you even closer. "Lick your mistress, lick her just like that and don't stop 'till I tell you to."

What more could you want? As awful as it might seem to be shipwrecked on this desert island, to be here with this amazing woman and to be able to please her like this makes you almost wish that you never get rescued. When you ease your finger into her sex just below where your tongue is lapping away you sense that you've found the perfect combination. You can no longer understand what she's saying, but there is no mistaking the way her hands are pulling you tightly against her as she grinds her pelvis back against your probing tongue.

"Yessss!" Her climax is more a sigh of relief than a yell of triumph, but there is no mistaking the way her torso convulses or the sudden flush of juices that coat your lips and chin. Only after the last twitch of her legs does she release your head and props herself up to see the unmistakable tent in your pants. After the experience of laying with Amala on the hammock last night and this glorious moment in the afternoon sun, you want nothing more than to ease your cock into her and fill her completely, yet you remember your promise and wait to see if this is what she wants.