My Polynesian Girls

An engineer on a bridge project on a remote Polynesian island discovers the hedonistic ways of the local population and the sexual delights of the females

Part One

In the early years of the 21st century I was employed as an engineer with a company that had strong connections to French Polynesia. I was excited to be part of a project in which a suspension bridge was to be constructed across a 40-meter gorge on one of the most remote islands. How remote was this island? Nobody was totally sure what its name was.

The 80 to 100 people who resided there kept to themselves and lived as they had for centuries. There was enough free-growing fruit and vegetation to feed everyone. Even fishing was done mostly for pleasure rather than out of necessity. Hedonism was a way of life there.

Comprised of 121 islands spread over 1,200 miles, French Polynesia is still governed by the French, but the islands have a great amount of autonomy. Nearly half are uninhabited by humans. Tahiti and Bora Bora are the two best known of the islands, but there are numerous charming ones that cagy tourists love to visit. One was the site of this bridge project. Why this island needed a suspension bridge built over a gorge was never fully explained to me.

I was one of the engineers who had helped design this modern bridge for a very antiquated people. They lived communally, eating all their meals together, and seemingly raising all the island’s children as one big family. Most of the island’s homes had not changed since the days of the HMS Bounty and Captain Bligh. We visitors had temporary quarters built for us, but there were no luxuries. We required battery-run generators to run any and all electric conveniences.

The people there were both puzzling and enchanting. They had no concept of private property, so they often helped themselves to whatever western-made items they found near the construction site and the dwellings where the westerners lived. They did not consider it stealing. That was an utterly foreign concept to them. They just thought everything belonged to everybody, so they believed they were free to walk away with whatever they could carry. It didn’t matter that they had no use for much of it. Nevertheless, we westerners were instructed not to bring anything of value to the island as it was sure to be taken as a curiosity by an islander.

However, most of the visiting men put up with this pilferage and cultural oddities because there was a huge allurement on this island. Very few people bothered to wear clothing. Nudity was common, almost the norm, in a climate where the temperature averaged about 33 degrees Celsius all year round. Bronze-skinned Polynesian girls and women were quite attractive to begin with. When they were walking around naked, they were practically irresistible to the white men who were working on the bridge project. That was the main reason why Fletcher Christian and his mutinous allies had no desire to return to England in 1789. Who could blame them?

I was scheduled to be on this island for six months. I lived alone in one of the small houses built for the “bridge people”. An old woman was hired by my employer to be something akin to a housekeeper. I have no idea what she was paid. It likely didn’t matter as there was nothing to buy on the island. She brought me fresh fruit to eat three times a day, washed my clothing every once in a while, and kept the place clean. She didn’t wear a stitch of clothing the whole time. Lucky for her, she was at least 70 years old, or I would have found other things to keep her occupied.

Despite warnings not to bring valuables to the island, I did pack one luxury item—a portable DVD player, which was something rather new to the western world at the time. (Of course, it was out of this world to the Polynesians.) Being a fan of the silent screen, I brought along the complete works of Charlie Chaplin on DVD to amuse me. I spent much of my spare time with the DVD player plugged into my generator so I could enjoy the Little Tramp’s comedy films. They immediately attracted the attention of the curious islanders. First one person showed up to look at the screen with me, then two, then eight, then 40. One night there were 60 people surrounding my small screen watching The Gold Rush. I didn’t mind at all as my eyes were mostly focused on the gorgeous naked young women within the throng. I observed that they were very liberal minded about sex. Three couples who grew bored of the film just laid down on the ground and began fucking. No one else seemed to notice or care. It seemed to be a form of general recreation for them as they switched partners frequently. Eventually there were about a dozen locals conjoined in coitus unrestrained by any social expectations of privacy or monogamy. I was told by workers who had been on the island a lot longer than I had that “free love” was quite common among the population—and it had some very young practitioners.

I had also brought along other DVDs that were not silent comedies. I packed about a dozen adult films, collections of two series: Real College Girls and Casting Couch. One other DVD was just a three-hour compilation of prodigious cum shots. I figured I might need these flicks as masturbation tools in case I had no female company in my life.

One night I was having trouble sleeping because of the heat, so I got up at 3 a.m. Even though I was having a sleepless night, I figured everyone else on the island was not. I plugged in the DVD player and started watching assorted university girls get roughly fucked by a creepy middle-age guy for tuition money. I had been wearing shorts, but I removed them so I could tug myself to a much-needed orgasm.

The sound of dialogue coming from the DVD player for the first time was apparently loud enough to be heard by two islanders who wanted to see the show. They were two nude girls of indeterminate ages, perhaps 19. They got to see two shows—the one on the screen and the one I was performing solo with my rapidly rising dick.

I had literally been caught with my pants down, but I didn’t care. If nudity was the norm on the island, I wasn’t doing anything culturally wrong by local standards. I was seated on a folding chair, tugging happily on my manhood while the girl on the screen was blowing a guy who was holding a video camera. The two island girls stood on either side of me. They were pointing at the screen, chattering away to each other in a language I didn’t understand. (I later learned it was Tahitian.) Then they pointed at me and giggled at what I was doing to myself.

Seconds later the girl on the screen was being thoroughly fucked by the guy holding the video camera. This brought a collective gasp from mouths of my two uninvited visitors. I thought I heard one of them say “Fucky!” My ears perked up. Hey! Maybe they could understand a bit of English if what I was trying to say interested them. I pointed at the screen and said “Fucky!” too. Pretty soon all three of us were saying that important word over and over.

I took a chance, pointed at my stiff dick and said “Fucky?” in a questioning voice. One girl, the smaller of the two, excitedly pointed at her hairless vagina and said the same thing to me—but not as a question. I took it as an acceptance. She wanted me to fuck her.

I promptly grabbed her by the waist and set her on my lap. I fondled her small breasts and sucked on her tiny nipples. Then I brazenly shoved my hard dick into her narrow vagina and began my thrusting vigorously upward. It was a great feeling. The girl on my lap seemed as delighted as I was. Her friend, however, seemed angry that she was being left out of the carnal fun. Seeing her obvious disappointment, I lifted the small girl off my dick and invited the taller one to take her place. She did so eagerly. She merrily bounced up and down on my rod saying, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” as my hands explored her young body, too.

The smaller girl was now miffed at her exclusion and started chattering angrily at her friend who seemed utterly oblivious to everything beside my hard penis. I ejaculated into her tight pussy at about the same time as the male porn star delivered a huge facial to the college girl. Both girls gasped and laughed at the white girl with semen splattered across her face. Apparently, there was no such thing as “pulling out” on this Polynesian island. A fuck always culminated in a cream pie.

I figured both girls deserved the same outcome. I grabbed the smaller one by the hand and led her to a grass patch in front of my house. I set her on her back, spread her legs, and penetrated her vagina a second time. It was so inviting and tight that I had no trouble getting fully hard just a few minutes after dropping a lode of sperm into her friend. I started speaking to her in English as I rammed her cunt. “Oh, yes! That’s a good girl, sweetheart. Lie there and take let me ride you hard. I’m going to give you a load of cum too.” Within 15 minutes I fulfilled my promise. When I was finished doing my business, thick white globs were dripping from her vagina. Apparently, that was her goal. She thanked me by kissing me—something I had not seen any islander do—so I kissed her back. I reinserted my penis into her vagina and kissed her for several minutes. Of course, her tall friend wanted the same treatment from me, too. Accordingly, after about a minute, she literally pulled me off her friend, lied down beside her and spread her legs. I got the general idea. We kissed and fucked too, but there was nothing left in my balls. The girls waited for the porno movie scene to completely end before going home. Having sex with two youthful Polynesian girls certainly beat masturbating to porn any night of the week.

I also decided to mimic the islanders and go without clothes anytime I was away from the construction site.

Part Two

Word of my late-night sexual dalliance with the young and horny Polynesian twosome spread quickly among the islanders. At first, I thought it might spark anger among the local community. It did not. In fact, it spawned copycats. The next day I had several females arrive at my house who wanted to watch porn flicks with me and be serviced by my stiff penis. I did my best to please everyone. By the time the day was done, I had sampled the delights of five local gals. One had to be no younger than 55. She was the most enthusiastic of the bunch. However, the best two fuckers of the five were an extremely busty girl and one who was basically flat-chested. They both got sizable loads of hot jism from me where nature intended it to be deposited.

My porn DVDs quickly became more popular with the islanders than all the Charlie Chaplin films put together. Men started to watch them to see how westerners fucked. Sometime they brought women along with them to mimic what they had just seen on the screen. When one male deliberately came on a female’s face instead of inside her cunt, she became furious with him, striking him several times before storming away in disgust. Other men used them as educational tools with young islanders, presumably to explain the birds and bees to them.

One night several of the island’s elders unexpectedly dropped by my house. I assumed they wanted to watch steamy videos, but they did their best to communicate that wasn’t the purpose of their visit. I was to come with them. I did. TO my utter delight, I was apparently the guest of honor at a special feast. By observation, I surmised it was some sort of special celebration of fertility. (I assumed I was being honored for my famous fucking feats and my porn collection.)

The party was a combination luau and orgy. We all gorged ourselves on seafood and tropical fruit. Then, when the meal concluded, practically everyone on the island paired up with a member of the opposite sex to prepare for a vigorous round of fucking. I figured that since I was a non-Polynesian, I would miss out on that important part of the night’s fun. I was wrong!

An absolutely beautiful young maiden with bright red flowers in her jet-black hair approached me reverently. She bowed politely and draped a colorful lei over my head, said something sexy to me in Tahitian that I did not understand, and led me by the hand to a place of honor where she proceeded to give me an absolutely sensational fuck. Her mounting my erect phallus was the sign for everyone else to begin copulating with their partner. It must have been a spectacular sight to an onlooker—about 90 people getting together to enjoy a public fucking spree.

Of course, I did not have a panoramic view of everyone on the island screwing at once. I was contentedly focused on fucking this slim, youthful maiden. More accurately, she was atop me and was completely in charge of our coital interaction. I honestly didn’t care who as in charge as long as I had my rock-hard penis inside her wonderfully tight pussy and my hands fondling her delightful, budding breasts. The experience was heavenly, unlike anything I as ever experienced.

Occasionally I did do a bit of work supervising some aspects of the bridge’s construction. When my six-month contract expired, I did what Fletcher Christian and his fellow mutineers had done two centuries earlier. I balked at the idea of returning to the drudgery of home. I stayed on the island. I figured I had some sort of obligation to remain. After all, I was the father of seven children who about to be born.