Chapter 8 - Eight

Zip sucked air, gulped it down – three deep breaths – then doubled under the surface of the crystal clear South Pacific waves.  Front crawling down through the warm, crisp water he spotted Lara a few metres away.  She was down near the sea floor, swimming among the huge coral reefs.  Strafing from side to side with graceful hand movements one moment, then skilfully holding herself in place against the undercurrents the next, she glided back and forth between the cauliflower-like colonies with a grace and suppleness of movement all her own – her long chestnut brown French-braid trailing out behind her lustrously.

Shoals of tropical fish darted and scattered around her.  Their opalescent scales caught the sunlight, flashing and shimmering like vast multitudes of sequins.  Zip swam on, drawn in by Lara’s long, sleek, muscular legs scissor-kicking out behind her hips.  His boss’s full, bubbly ass flexed and rolled with each of her supple movements, the back of her wetsuit having bunched up completely in the crevice of her peachy ass-crack by now, leaving the English girl’s well-rounded rump fully on display.

Finally catching up to her, Zip floated by Lara’s side as she peered into a small cavern where two large lumps of sea-floor had sheared up from the otherwise flat, sand-dune-rippled bed to form a right angle cavity encrusted with barnacles and alive with sea anemones and scuttling crustaceans.  It was roughly as high as Zip was tall, and about twice as wide.  He caught Lara’s curious gaze, and she smiled back at him.

Her lips looked damn good, the techie decided, stretched out like that, all plump and oval-shaped around her scuba mouthpiece.

After a short exploration of the cave, Lara emerged looking nonplussed.  She made hand gestures to signal that she had found nothing of interest, that she was moving on, and that Zip should follow her.

Zip nodded, then pointed to his mouth.  Sucking in his cheeks and bulging his eyes, he made gulping movements with his throat.  Lara eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then realised what he was trying to communicate – not that! – and took the oxygen rebreather from her mouth.  She pushed it into Zip’s, and the techie inhaled fresh air thankfully.  Treading water next to Lara he made an A-OK sign with his middle finger and thumb touching to form an O.  Lara smiled again, feeling only slightly uncomfortable with the close proximity they were forced into due to the shortness of her air-tube.  Zip’s bare muscular chest kept brushing up against the front of her wetsuit; a couple of times the techie’s nipples casually sideswiped her own, making them tingle.  They throbbed and tautened up warmly.  Blushing, Lara made a point of ignoring the large hard bulge she felt nuzzling into the front of her right thigh.  Shyly, she gave Zip an admonishing look, then pulled the mouthpiece out from between his lips, slid it back between her own, turned nimbly at her waist, and kicked out with her legs, beckoning for him to follow.



“Huuaahhh...”, Lara tugged her scuba mouthpiece out from between her lips, inhaling a deep breath of a special kind of fresh air – tropical island fresh air: clean, salty, sweetly scented with the ember of palm trees and heavy with the cloying humidity of the lush equatorial jungle growing less than ten metres inland from the surf in which she was standing.

“Cough, cough, cough!!  *gasp*... cough, cough! *sputter*!”, Zip’s emergence from the water a moment later was slightly less dignified than his boss’s.  The techie crawled up through the frothy waves on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.  Lara had outswum him soundly through the coral reef, leaving Zip with no air for his trip to the island.  But the techie’s resentment was quickly replaced by lust when he looked up to see his boss’s long, beautifully toned legs and firm, water-rivuletted ass a couple of feet in front of his face.

“Daaaa...*cough, cough*...aaammnnn...”, he spluttered.

He still couldn’t get over how sleek and honed Lara’s calves were, how supple her long, tan, muscular thighs looked up close like this, wrapped in her strappy thigh holsters.  And her ass.  It was by far the best he had ever seen in his life, like a ripe, juicy peach.  A perfectly round, tight, young, olive-skin bubble-ass.

He wanted to fuck it so bad.

“Well come on then, Zip”, Lara glanced back at him, “we haven’t got all day”.

“Uh, w-what... you mean, you want me to...”, the techie started, then caught himself, “Ohhhh, you mean I should follow you, right...”.

Lara rolled her eyes.  Turning on her heel she strode off in the direction of the waterfall on the other side of the beach.

Zip scrambled to his feet and stumbled after her.



The water cascaded down spout-like from the top of the cliff above them.  A high-rise tall torrent of frothy white liquid falling into a pool that looked like a deep, boiling cauldron.  Lara skirted its shoreline, searching for some way to get behind the waterfall.  Finally she pressed herself up against the side wall and inched her way around to the back of the pool on a barely visible ledge that allowed her to avoid the thunderous downpour.  Zip followed slowly, slipping and sliding, almost falling off a couple of times:  the black man's big, bare feet overreached the path's edge by a good six inches.

“Well...”, he found his boss standing with her arms folded underneath her breasts in a cavern behind the waterfall, “what do we have here...?”.

In front of her was a cramped, waist high tunnel that appeared to have been dug out of the solid rock-face of the cliff.  Elaborate runes and decorations surrounded the hole, most of them too faded to be readable now, after countless centuries of splash-back from the waterfall had eroded their intricately carved designs.  Lara ran her fingertips over them.

“Hmmm... “, she shook her head, “these look almost Austronesian in origin... perhaps from the Malayo-Polynesian language family... That would mesh with the details I was able to glean from Tanaka’s scrolls last month... and with the local geography... which would lead me assume this place has been deserted for hundreds of years by now, if not longer... Malayo-Polynesian languages went out of fashion around these parts well before the turn of the last millennium....”.

“Yeah”, Zip stared at Lara’s ass, studying his boss’s perfect wet buns intently as she bent over at her waist examining the runes.  “I’d say that tunnel ain’t seen any use in a loooong time.  Too long if you ask me.”

Lara suppressed a smirk.

“But”, she ignored him, “I still think we should keep our wits about us, Zip, and proceed with caution.  You never know what might be waiting around the corner, ready to spring out and attack at a moment’s notice.  In fact, now would probably be a good time to break out those glow sticks”.

“Uh, yeah”, Zip rummaged around inside his backpack, “sure”.  He pulled out two translucent plastic tubes, then bent them until they cracked and their inner fluids mixed together.  The tubes fluoresced bright green; he kept one for himself and handed one to Lara.

Stepping back from the tunnel entrance the techie made a chivalrous gesture.

“Ladies first”.

Lara sighed, rolling her eyes, but got down on her hands and knees anyway and started crawling forward into the tunnel.

Zip pumped his fist, genuflecting skywards.

“Thank you God!”, he grinned, before bending over himself and following his boss’s luscious sun-burnished thighs and supple golden-brown bubbly ass-cheeks into the confined space at close quarters.

His cock was filling out nicely inside his shorts by the time they were ten metres inside the tunnel’s entrance, with Lara’s flaring, womanly hips, thrust up high above her arched lower back, swaying and wiggling from side to side less than a foot in front of his face.

“Must be my lucky day...”., the techie whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the crotch of Lara’s wetsuit even for a second.  The one-inch-wide strip of black neoprene was already starting to bunch up between her healthy round ass-cheeks.

Zip could make out his boss’s very recently waxed bikini line.  Lara’s pussy lips were smooth, neat and shiny pink, like pomegranate fruit; plump and luscious they bulged out clearly visible on either side of her skimpy briefs.

Zip made a promise to himself.

Before the end of this mission...

He WILL get a chance to tap that fine olive-tan ass!


***


*Ka-Click*.

Larson Conway pulled back the hammer of his Colt .45 Single Action Army pistol and pressed its barrel hard against the head of the woman down on her knees sucking his cock.

“Watch it with the fuckin’ teeth, bitch”, he growled.

The woman glared up at him angrily.  Her plump red lips were stretched out to a wide oval by the girth of the Texan’s glistening cock shaft.  Her eyes were big and almond-shaped, their irises a deep sapphire blue, and for a moment they flashed with a rebelliousness that almost made Conway nervous.  But then they softened, brimmed with tears, and fluttered shut, spilling sparkling streams down either side of the woman’s beautiful, heart-shaped face as she nodded timidly.

Some extra inch of courage that the woman had clearly once possessed, and been proud of, had just as clearly been taken away from her in the not too distant past.  She relaxed her throat and made no move to resist Conway as he cupped the back of her head in one hand and pushed her face down into his lap.

“Mmmphhslplsh?!... “, she spluttered as he pumped her mouth, “HLURK!! GLURK!! GLLUKSH!!...”.

“Ohhhhh, yeaaahhhh...”, rolling his hips, the Texan held her head firmly in place and fucked her gagging throat with his ten-inch shaft  “Yeah baby, take it! ngh! you fuckin’ slut! fuck! fuckin’ swallow it!! ung!!”, he grunted, seeing her hands clench and tremble, tied behind her back.

The woman was a tall, well-built brunette.  Her generous breasts, full ass, long, muscular legs and nubile torso could only be described as Amazonian.  Her glossy dark-olive skin was scuffed and bruised in many places, and her torn clothes hung loose about her body in tatters, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.  But the sheer youthfulness and vitality of her body, which even now, cowed and subservient, kneeling before a man as he raped her mouth, still flexed with strength and sleek muscularity, inspired more lust than pity in the minds of the half-dozen men surrounding her, variously standing, leaning, sitting, squatting, jerking off and spitting, oiling rifles and sharpening bowie knives on wet-stones and strips of leather.

Conway fucked the brunette’s throat until she was coughing and spluttering pitifully, with thick strings of saliva bubbling up in her nose and dribbling down over her chin.  Then he eased himself back and extracted his saliva-coated cock, inch by slow inch, from the depths of her stuffed oesophagus.  He pulled himself out between her overflowing lips.

“HUUUAAHHH!!”, the woman gulped air desperately, then broke down in a coughing fit, “*COUGH, COUGH, spluplulp...,* BLALK!! *COUGH, COUGH!! COUGhurlksplumpsh... *gasp* coughcoughcough!!”.  Hyperventilating, she almost passed out.

Conway rose to his feet, towering over her.

“Not so fucking tough now, huh bitch?”.

He grabbed a handful of the woman’s thick brunette maine and yanked her up to her feet, then turned her around and shoved her forward onto her hands and knees.  Grabbing her sun-burnished bubble-ass he squeezed her ass-cheeks hard, spreading them wide open with his thumbs.  Then he pressed his cockhead lubed with spit up against her asshole and thrust his hips forward, forcing six thick inches of his shaft down into her tight rectum.

“UUUUNNNHHHHH!!!”, the woman moaned loudly, arching her lower back and clawing at her palms as Conway’s sturdy meat filled out her ass.

“Yeah”, he started working his weight up and down, forcing another couple of inches of hurtful penetration.  “Thought y’all was the shit, didn’t you bitch, when we first got here?”. 

“UNGH!! UNGH!! UMMPH!!”, the woman trembled and bucked beneath him.  With her hands tied behind her back she could offer no resistance.

“Well”, the Texan drawled thoughtfully, “I guess, at first at least, you did give me and my boys here a run for our money”.

Positioning his feet inside her knees he pushed them wide open.  Then holding her that way he squatted over the woman’s hips and started pounding down into her stretched-out asshole.  He grabbed her hair and pushed her face-down into the dirty cavern floor, grinding her smooth, soft, beautiful cheek into all the dust, grime and coagulating body fluids that had amassed there after the past two hours of non-stop gang-rape.

*SMACK!! WHAP!! SMOP!! WHAP!! SMAP!!*, Conway spanked the woman’s fleshy ass-cheeks over and over again in time with his thrusts, making them bounce and jiggle.

“But I guess that’s why those old Fijian high priests left you here huh, sweet cheeks?”.  Her plump bubble-ass was red raw by the time he was finished.  Then yanking back on her hair again, he forced the woman up into a spine-bending doggy-style posture.

She bared her teeth and hissed as one of the other mercs stepped forward and started slapping his cock all over her face.  He smooshed his cock head all around her full, squared lips then forced it into her mouth and made her suck him off.  Reaching down he slapped and squeezed her heavy underhanging tits, pinching her nipples until she squealed on his meat.

“Unnph! Unnphh! Unnpphh!! Unnnpphhh!!! Uuunnnnppphhhhhh!!!!”.

Conway grinned.  Stepping up his pace, he pounded the woman’s lower body down into the ground.  Forcing her legs open to a splits posture with her knees still bent, he repeatedly hilted all ten inches of his shaft deep inside her ass with every single thrust.

“But you know what, bitch (ung!) what those ancient high priests (fuck!) din’t count on (slut!), oh miss mystical guardian of the tomb of  Quezacotl (gnh!)?  Fuckin’ tasers, that’s what!  UNG!UNG!!UNG!!!”.  The Texan nailed the gasping woman with three extra deep thrusts to emphasise his point.  Her eyes were starting to roll back in their sockets now; the man fucking her face wasn’t letting her up.  She hadn’t been able to breathe for three minutes.

“Yeeeaahhhh...”, Conway buried his piece in her colon and stirred his hips around in circles, stretching out the woman’s ring almost to breaking point.  “A couple good old fashioned high-voltage taser blasts quieted you down real good din’t they, darlin’?”.

The big blonde Texan man grinned down sadistically at the tomb guardian that he and his men had defeated a couple of hours ago as she writhed around on the floor beneath him.  He was just about to give in to her hot asshole tightly squeezing and working his cock, and unload the contents of his balls deep inside her overstuffed rectum, when a men came stumbling down the central staircase to the tomb.

“Jenkins?!”, Conway barked at him, “Shit...how many times do I gotta tell you guys – guard duty comes first!  We take turns with this bitch by rote, and right now pal, it ain’t your fuckin’...”

“Boss”, the man gasped, stumbling to halt before the Texan, “it’s not what you think...”.  He took a moment to catch his breath, then pulled out a digital camera from his pocket.

“Look...” Tapping a few buttons, he turned the device and showed Conway a picture with a time stamp from ten minutes ago, and then another, and another, and another:

A large luxury sports yacht cruising just off the coast of the island.

A close-up – the yacht anchored; a curvaceous young white woman in a black string bikini sunning herself on deck.

A series of images – a black guy in a grey muscle vest oiling the woman’s legs, squeezing her ass, massaging her breasts; the woman jumping to her feet and walking down below deck.

Conway’s mouth curled in a leering smile as more images flashed across the screen: the woman posing in a fucking obscenely tight wet suit, clearly leading the black guy on like some kind of cock-teasing slut; the woman diving into the water, the woman splashing up through the island’s surf.  Up close her lush figure put even this bitch’s body to shame, he mused, absently corn-holing the tomb guardian’s by now too loose asshole.

The woman – he knew.

“Lara.  Fucking.  Croft”, he drawled his Texan accent out long, savouring the feel of the words on his tongue.

“What’s that boss?”, Jenkins seemed surprised, “you know her?”.

“Yeah”, Conway grabbed the camera, then slammed the woman’s ass one last time and came hard in her lower colon while staring at a close-up of Lara’s face.  He pulled out and emptied his balls all over her glossy caramel-tan ass-cheeks, bleaching them white with his thickly spewing spunk – all the while staring intently  at the camera screen.

“Yeah” he said again, post-coital, “Ms. Croft n’ me?  We go way back.  Got some unfinished business, in fact.  Although, I guess it ain’t gonna stay unfinished for too much longer now, is it Jenkins...?”.

The big Texan pulled up his jeans and rebuckled his belt.

He started making plans immediately.

“Listen up, men”, the mercs crowded around him, the passed-out tomb guardian laying broken on the floor now all but forgotten at the prospect of fresh meat.

“This...”, Conway grinned, “is how it’s gonna go down...”.

To be continued...