CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: THE INTRUDER, PART ONE Christine gasped at the sight of the young man standing in the entrance. He was close, barely three meters away. How could she not have heard him coming? Involuntarily her hands flew to cover her nakedness, but the resplendence of her ripe body could not be so easily hidden. She ducked down behind the weirdly shaped rock she had just used as a masturbatory device, but squatting down low as she did only served to make her bald beaver that much more visible. She tried to bring her legs together and succeeded only in barking one shin against the rock. She grimaced out of a combined feeling of pain, embarrassment, helplessness, and fear. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, unable or unwilling to meet those of the intruder. For his part, the young man was rooted firmly to the spot, unable to move as the result of having been taken completely aback by the vision of unabashed voluptuousness that had greeted his unprepared eyes, which were now frozen open. He looked to be in his late teens, with close-cropped hair and smooth skin as black as human melanocytes could make it. His taut musculature, which showed through frayed jeans cropped at the knee and an unbuttoned white shirt, suggested near constant physical activity. His legs were corded with hard muscle, poised and ready to flee, but an overload of other hormones was cancelling out the adrenaline, rendering him a virtual statue. Long seconds ticked by while befuddled brains struggled mightily with the situation. The only sound was the rush of the waterfall that formed one wall of the enclosure. Chris's discomfort grew to the point where finally it overcame her embarrassment, and she stood up, tossing all pretense to the winds. The young man visibly flinched as her full complement of assets came into view. She was clearly the most amazing specimen of undraped femininity he had ever had the pleasure to witness. He made a half-hearted attempt to shield his eyes, but his gonads wouldn't permit him. He continued staring. Fighting to keep from stammering, Chris haltingly described her situation, explaining her presence and state of undress. She wondered how much of her one- woman sex show the young man had seen prior to making his appearance, then decided that the shock that still registered on his face indicated that he had only just arrived. She glanced around for her clothing as she spoke, and finally found it, wadded up next to the edge of the pool, very far out of reach. She wondered if he'd let her retrieve it. In equally halting fashion, the boy explained in a heavily accented but understandable baritone how he'd come to be here. He worked nearby, at one of the resort hotels of Negril Beach. At the mention of that name, Chris's heart leapt -- she was close to "home" after all and wasn't as hopelessly lost as she'd thought. This little spot of paradise was actually well known among the hotel workers, who used it as a retreat when things got a bit too hectic on the job. He explained that the main building was just a kilometer or so away, on the other side of the palm grove that surrounded the pool. He had not meant to intrude, not expecting to find anyone, much less a gorgeous naked woman, in what he thought was his personal retreat. Chris apologized profusely for her own intrusion, and received a warm smile in return. The smile lit the boy's? man's? face and for some reason which Chris was unable to fathom, instantly transformed him into an extremely desirable person. To her amazement, Chris felt her inner animal stir once again, fed by the raw desire the mannish boy's eyes were still exhibiting beneath the veneer of strained politeness. His muscles continued to ripple beneath his clothing, still waging the internal fight-or-flight hormonal war, adding to his desirability. The enclosed area was thick with pheromones. Chris decided that the only way to break the deadlock and get out of here was to try to gain the upper hand, and the only way she could think of to do that was to make use of her unclothed state rather than to try to hide it. She leaned against the rock (and almost slipped -- it was still slick with her milk) in such a way that her breasts thrust out and up, her ruby nipples presenting themselves at full attention. She smiled and teased the boy, telling him that he looked as if he'd never seen a naked woman before. He smiled awkwardly and denied her statement, saying that in his line of work he was privileged to see nude lady tourists every day on the beach, but he was quick to add that none of them could hold a candle to her. Chris asked him point-blank if he liked her body. His response was a furrowing of eyebrows that seemed to say, "What's not to like?" His erection, a huge one by the looks of things, also became more prominent. Chris suggested that perhaps her nudity was causing the boy undue discomfort. She indicated her clothing and suggested she retrieve it. She began moving in its general direction, making sure her torso swayed provocatively as she did so. She also made sure her path took her within centimeters of the poor paralyzed lad. Her exaggerated undulations caused one foot to slip on the wet rock floor near the entrance, and she pitched sideways. The boy's apparent paralysis vanished in that instant as his arms shot out to break her fall. Chris's arms involuntarily circled the boy's neck as she tried to regain her footing. In those first milliseconds of contact, a multitude of biochemical stimuli and responses passed between the two, far too quickly to register in their conscious minds. Chris's first sensations were of muscle and sinew, rigid yet mobile like animated bronze, unyielding from her impact yet smooth to the touch. A pungent whiff of nervous perspiration. A thrilling sensation escalating rapidly to almost an ache, from where one forearm and hand encircled her ribcage and brushed the underside of a breast. Pins and needles radiating downward toward her nipples as new milk rushed from deep within down into her lactiferous sinuses. Minute movement below as her inner labia were pushed aside by the advance of her swelling clit. Nipples undergoing a phase change from rubber to diamond. The boy's first sensations were of wet hair striking his chest and shoulder, a faint odor of yesterday's shampoo still evident. Damp cool skin along one side of his body, curves sculpted as from soapstone. The firm sponginess of the underside of a breast, the shape impossibly opposing gravity, the curvature seemingly designed to maximize arousal in a male. Buttocks flaring from dimpled sacroiliac striking his thigh, a suggestion of rock beneath rubber beneath satin, but more subtle than any. A wave of disorientation surging from head downward as his blood was redirected toward his pelvic region where it began pooling and reinforcing certain structures. He did not want to let go of her. She did not move to free herself. Something clicked inside Chris as her inner animal took full control. She spun in his arms and locked her mouth to his. His lips were much fuller than any other man's she had ever kissed. Her own lips and tongue seemed almost lost in them. She flicked her tongue past teeth to seek its counterpart, found it, tried to encircle it as it tried to do the same. Her breasts, hardened now with desire and a fresh supply of mother's milk, spread across his chest, warming it. His hands slid down her spine, over her butt cheeks, squeezing and separating them as they moved, down to the backs of her thighs, where they clamped down and lifted her completely effortlessly until her dampening crotch was even with his navel. He moved his head from side to side, his face disappearing and reappearing as her breasts swept across it. The boy carried her as if she weighed nothing at all out from under the waterfall, a few meters beyond to a small, moss-covered hillock. He tried to gently lay her down on the moss, but she would not relinquish her grip on him as she tried to press her breasts and hips ever harder against him. So instead he sat on the moss, his face all but invisible inside the canyon whose walls were Chris's bosom, her legs entwined tightly about his waist. She felt her milk welling up behind her nipples. She would feed him. Her desire would become liquid and flow salty-sweet down his throat. Chris melted against this ebony sculpture of a man, ready for the inevitability of what was to follow.