Shipwrecked

Day 543. The island has plenty of food and fresh water, but no inhabitants, save us. Our clothes have deteriorated into unwearable rags and we have discarded them. No use making clothes out of foliage, there is no need to waste our energy on making uncomfortable coverings, our modesty is gone. We have little to do.

One escape for us has been sex. My vasectomy from years past has precluded any chance of pregnancy, so we have taken to performing the act in any way shape or form we want to explore. Strangers before the accident; thrown together by circumstance and by the death our compatriots, I have come to admire my companion’s beauty and her appetite for stimulation which thankfully matches my own. We soldier on.