Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1314

Chapter 1314: Chapter 1314

The light from the trees pulsed like breath, deeper now, slower, as if the island itself had climaxed and lay in a moment of post-orgasmic stillness. The air was thick with scent - earth, skin, nectar, sweat. Jude’s body was heavy, his muscles trembling with a pleasure that bordered on pain, exhaustion curling through his limbs like vines. But he wasn’t done. The island wouldn’t let him be done.

Around him, the women moved in reverence and ease. Rose lay against one of the glowing roots, her body half-draped in vines that seemed to move with her breath. Stella and Grace were curled around each other, lips locked in a kiss that never quite ended, their hands moving slowly, endlessly, as if memorizing the shape of one another for eternity. Lucy knelt between Thalia’s thighs, her mouth glistening, fingers buried deep, both women humming the song now without even noticing.

And from the edge of the tree line, the twelve new women emerged. Different from the first twelve - older, wilder, etched with the marks of something ancient. Their hair was braided with feathers and bones. Their skin was painted with gold and black. They moved like wind, like memory, like something that had never stopped watching.

Jude sat up slowly.

Emma appeared beside him, naked, her eyes wide, glowing. She touched his shoulder gently. "These aren’t mirrors," she whispered. "They’re keepers. They’ve been waiting since before we arrived."

"For what?"

"For you." Her smile trembled. "And for this."

The twelve women circled the altar, chanting now in a tongue that neither Jude nor any of his wives recognized. It wasn’t language. It was rhythm - sound woven through moan and breath and blood. The roots of the tree responded, rising, wrapping slowly up their legs like they were home.

One of the keepers - tall, dark-eyed, and bare-breasted - stepped forward. She placed her hand on Jude’s heart. "You are the root," she said. "And now you must seed the island."

He stared at her, lips parted. "I already - "

She silenced him with a kiss, tongue sliding into his mouth, slow and hot. And as she kissed him, his cock hardened again, impossibly, like the island filled his veins with sap and fire.

She straddled him without hesitation, guiding him inside her with a moan that echoed across the trees. Her cunt was impossibly tight, pulsing, her hips grinding against him like she knew every nerve inside him by name.

He gasped as she moved.

She didn’t ride him with hunger. She rode him like worship, like a priestess making love to the altar itself. The other keepers joined the circle, humming, touching each other, pressing mouths to thighs, fingers to breasts. The whole grove shifted to their rhythm.

Rose watched with a smile that knew too much.

Lucy moaned softly from where she lay on her side, three fingers between her legs.

Zoey gripped Sophie’s hair as Sophie licked her open, the taste of ritual on her tongue.

The keeper came with a cry that made the roots shiver. Her body tightened around Jude, milking his cock, and when he spilled inside her, the tree groaned. The light flared.

And the next keeper stepped forward.

She knelt in front of him, licking his softening cock until it stirred again, until it rose with slow, aching need. Then she mounted him backwards, her ass grinding against his thighs, her cunt already wet. She moved in slow circles, moaning, her hands on his knees. When she came, she sobbed, shuddering, her whole body vibrating. He came with her, again, again, filling her.

The next came.

And the next.

His wives didn’t interrupt. They watched, pleasured each other, kissed and touched and moaned while he was seeded by the ancient ones. Jude was no longer man - he was vessel, conduit, root. The island took his pleasure and turned it into bloom. The roots glowed beneath every body he filled.

The tenth keeper came harder than the rest, her body clenching so tight around him that he cried out, digging his fingers into the moss. He didn’t know where one orgasm ended and another began. Time became meaningless, only pulse and thrust and breath.

By the twelfth, he was barely able to hold himself upright. But the final woman kissed his chest, whispered a prayer he didn’t understand, and slid onto him with a softness that brought tears to his eyes. She rocked slowly, gently, her forehead resting against his as her pussy milked him for every drop he had left.

When he came inside her, it was like release and death and rebirth all at once.

The island stilled.

The roots pulsed once.

Twice.

Then grew.

Vines bloomed across the altar. Flowers exploded open. Trees bent toward the grove. The keepers moaned in harmony, bodies glowing with the essence Jude had poured into them.

Emma knelt beside him, kissing his temple. "You’ve done it," she whispered.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

His wives crawled to him slowly - Lucy first, wrapping around him protectively. Zoey kissed his neck. Rose pressed her forehead to his chest. Stella stroked his leg, humming softly.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

He was the island now.

And the island was ready to grow.

The breath of the island was in everything now - wind, skin, the rustle of vines curling around ankles and thighs like lovers too shy to speak. Jude lay still, surrounded by his wives and the keepers, the soil beneath him warm with a pulse not unlike a heartbeat. His body trembled, not from weakness, but from too much sensation - his cock still twitching with the aftershock of being claimed, worshipped, and filled with something greater than himself.

Lucy curled against his side, her fingers trailing softly over his chest as if grounding herself in the reality of him. "You’re different," she whispered, her voice both awed and afraid.

He looked into her eyes. "So are you."

She shivered. "I know."

Around them, the others moved slowly, sensually.