Aurora - Wings of the Goddess Pt. 03

Beck turned around, all smiles and pulled on her bush hat. Vicky's pupils dilated as she did her level best not to stare at a perfect pair of firm little tits, just a couple of bumps, with stiff pink nipples standing proudly erect. And no tan lines. "Come on, Macca," Beck said with a jerk of the head, "there's no more prickles. Let's get a bit of sun in them bones."

Vicky squirmed restively. The sight of the little blonde's treasures was truly mouth-watering, and the thought of unleashing her own girls into the wild was making her groin throb. But it was wrong, surely, to expose such unmentionables in the public domain.

"Carry these, old boy?" Beck said, flicking Watson with her bikini top, oblivious to Vicky's inner turmoil.

"Like I've got a choice?"

"Hold on," she said, snapping her fingers at Vicky, "You can carry Macca's too."

Taking a huge breath, Vicky shimmied out of her shorts then unbuttoned her shirt. She could already feel the slippery, slidey sensation between her legs, as she turned on Beck and lifted her hair. "If you would be so kind?"

Beck tugged the bow at the nape of Vicky's neck, then did the same in the middle of her back. Vicky turned around, her luscious lips compressed, trying to fight off the smile of unbridled delight. She crossed her arms, hands flat on her breasts, squeezing her treasures together to create the perfect cleavage as her nipples pressed into her palms. "Umm..." she said, "what if we see someone?" though truth be known she hardly cared.

"Well this will be their lucky day." Beck replied and took her hand. "Ready? Last one on the beach is a rotten egg."

* * *

Their next destination was out on the Great Barrier Reef. With too little daylight left to reach the immense natural ramparts, they harboured up in the bay for the rest of the day, with a few hours of snorkelling to while-away the afternoon. Clad in nought but bikini bottoms, the two young females cruised the shallows, hunting, exploring, diving down or simply kicking along on the surface.

For Vicky it was a revelation. For Beck a chance to show off and play instructor. For Watson, on lookout, it was simply a feast for the eyes. Quickly shrugging off her modesty, Vicky thrilled to the sensation of water flowing over her bare skin, delighting, from time to time at the sight of Beck's lithe little frame. Not that she was the least bit attracted to females, certainly not in that way, but the young girl's body was a thing of such beauty. The way she looked, the way she moved, an exquisite little vehicle for a stunning young soul. A work of art, a pint-sized masterpiece.

* * *

Watson awoke at four, way before dawn, and eased off the vee-berth being careful not to wake his sleeping companion. Worn out from their climb and her brush with the flesh-eating koalas, then roundly exhausted by several hours of snorkelling, followed by an evening of barbequed fish and French Champagne, all topped-off with an hour or two of stealthy, steamy, frantic, furtive sex, Vicky slept like she had never slept before, dead to the world and utterly replete.

Climbing into the cockpit, Watson cranked up the diesel and left it idling while he padded forward and winched-in the anchor. Underway at half throttle, he checked his sleeping guest once more then snuck aft and stuck his head through the door of Beck's cabin. Flat out on her belly under a disheveled sheet, the little blonde was sleeping like a babe, hair strewn over her pillow, one bare leg hanging over the side. A surge of love and lust welled up inside the old man but quickly faded away, leaving only the aftertaste of aching regret. In a few short months the dream would be over. He would relinquish his accidental soul-mate to another dimension, hand her on to her future. And be back where he started, a solitary old man sailing over the horizon in the glow of his existential sunset.

Still, it wasn't all bad news. Beck swore black and blue that she was his forever, and once she was a pilot he could fly with her anywhere. Everywhere, in fact, with Beck and her mentor, the funny, feisty, foul-mouthed firecracker, Alana. All pie in the sky, of course, but why not? The Braggs had already shown they had the means, not to mention the will. And to think, all of this because of one simple good deed, fixing a stranger's broken down boat.

Motoring out of the bay, Watson set the sails and once they were underway he shut down the engine. And it happened again, as it always did. Aurora came alive, shuddering and creaking, shouldering her way through the swell at a steady six knots, heeled over, heaving gently as the fifteen knot breeze flowed over the curve of her airfoils. Dialling up the autopilot, Watson set a course for a distant reef, utterly content and totally at home.

It was just before dawn when a light came on down below and a head popped up out of the hatchway. Beck yawned mightily and looked at him, blinking. "We on our way?" she mumbled and palmed her sleepy eyes.

"Nahh." Watson shook his head, "I just ran these up for decoration."

Beck climbed into the cockpit, stark naked, and arranged herself in his lap. "Where's Macca?"

"Still asleep. Actually comatose is probably a better word."

Beck reached under her butt and squeezed his meat. "I heard you fucking her, you dirty old man."

"You did? Well you must have very good hearing. We were in stealth-mode."

"Yeah, well, I might have accidentally had my ear to your door."

Watson pinched her bottom. "You dirty little girl. You'll have to stop doing that, you know. She'll spring you one day."

Beck shuffled in his lap to make way for a growing erection. "I have a right to enjoy it as well."

"Really? According to whom?"

Beck thumbed herself in the sternum. "Me!" she declared then looked around as if checking the coast was clear. "Was it fun?"

Fun? The old man had unleashed years of Vicky's pent-up sex-energy and had found himself, once or twice, almost fearing for his life. Doggy, cowgirl, on the bottom, on the side, standing, sitting, squatting, she wanted it all. She wanted it hard, she wanted it fast, she wanted it deep, she wanted it dirty, and had a seemingly inexhaustible supply of orgasms. Not to mention an insatiable huger for cum. "You know, I think I've created a monster."

"With the emphasis on 'mons'." Beck wrinkled her nose. "Does she have a nice pussy?"

"First of all, Beck, 'nice pussy' is a tautology. Second of all, it's none of your business."

While the old man was doing his best to sound irascible, his cock was busy swelling into a raging hardon- if not fully blown then about to be. "Hmph..." Beck crossed her arms, "I guess I'll just have to find out myself."

A wave broke to windward and Beck cringed, cackling, as the spray pelted her naked skin. "Aww look..." she giggled, "I'm all wet. And I also got some of that spray on me." She stood, feet apart, her thigh-gap silhouetted against the light looming up from below, wide and plump with her pussy lips slightly parted. "I'm going back to bed," she said, and held out her hand. "Tuck me in?"

"Was that 'tuck', or 'fuck'?"

"Settle down, Mister, I said 'tuck'. Right after you've given me a jolly good tingering."

Watson checked the chart plotter. Their course was taking them south of the nearest obstacles by a good five miles. "You know, I should probably stay up here."

Another wave broke and Beck hunched her shoulders as the spray caught her a glancing blow. "Aww come on... just a quickie? All I had last night was Dennis the Dildo."

There was open water on their present heading and Watson had set the radar alarm. Safe as houses. "I really shouldn't, you know."

Beck took his hand. "Oh yes," she nodded, "you really should."

"What about Vicky?"

"Sure. If you think she'd be interested."

"Seriously, Moosh. She might smell your pussy on my cock."

"Taste it more likely. Come on old boy, she's still fast asleep. Please..." Beck stuck out her bottom lip, "Just a quick one?"

Watson double-checked the autopilot, double-checked the chart-plotter. "You're a bad influence, Missy." he griped, getting to his feet, a massive tent pitched in the front of his board shorts.

They crept downstairs and Watson cast a glance at the door to his cabin. An image of Beck leapt to mind, standing at the door, naked and no doubt interfering with herself. He shook his head. Make that two monsters. Slipping through the door like a little randy cat, Beck threw herself onto her bed and flopped her legs apart. Watson dismasted his shorts then peeled off his sweater while his cock looked around for something to nail. He put a finger to his lips. "Nice and quiet now, Moosh." he whispered then rubbed his hands. "So how would you like it?"

Beck sat up, reaching for his cock, then pulled him down with it, reclining as he settled onto her. Wrapping her small, cool hand around the base of his shaft, she ploughed herself open with his tip, then pushed her membrane back and settled him in her hole. "Ohhhhhh... yeah!" she groaned, "Now that's what I'm talking about." Bringing her knees up, rotating her pelvis, she hooked her ankles over the small of his back.

Watson gave her an exploratory poke. "Christ," he huffed, "that's tight."

"Well push harder!"

"Sure you don't need some limbering up?"

"This is limbering up. Come on, Dommy, really slam it into me. I mean it. I'm so fuckin' horny. I want you to pound me."

Sometimes Beck's eyes were bigger than her stomach, at least the sexual equivalent. "Okay. But don't go giving yourself a tummy-ache, okay?"

"I won't."

"I've heard that before. Remember the time-"

Beck clutched the old man's butt cheeks, trying to pull him into her. "For fuck's sake, Dommy! Just shut up and fuck me."

Popping through her outer muscle ring, Watson thrust into her as hard as he dared, halfway between a push and a stab. With barely two thirds of his length inside her, his cock head-butted her rubbery cervix.

"Ow ow ow!" Beck yelped, then dug her heels into his butt spurring him on. "Don't stop." she cried, arching her back, muscles clenching his meat as her pussy uttered a little wet fart. "Holy fuck!"

Pushing up, Watson looked down at the sight of his stiff cock buried deep in the little blonde's belly. "Christ that looks awesome."

"Quick, Dommy!" Beck panted, "Fuck me."

Watson settled onto her, then took up a measured pace, flexing his well-muscled back to piston his prick in and out of the girl. It came out each time slicked with bright slime, as Beck's insides reacted gleefully to the impaling. "Oh god that's beautiful." she breathed, belly heaving, eyes closed and head to the side. "Dommy?"

Watson picked up the pace, hammering into her. "Uh huh?"

"When Vicky... cums... does she... squirt?"

"A little."

"Does she taste good?"

"Like something out of a lolly-shop."

Beck's hips were humping and writhing, thrusting each time the old man powered into her. "Is she all nice and slippery?"

"Slippery as eel snot and by god is she hot!"

Watson heard a vague thump outside and screeched to a gasping stop.

"What the fuck?" Beck cried, aghast, clawing his butt, "Why did you stop?"

"I thought I heard something."

"For god's sake, it's just the flippin' rigging."

Watson listened for a moment then picked up where he'd left off. Beck was on the boil, a few minutes from liftoff, and he settled his weight onto her, driving into her as deep as his cock would go. "Oh, Dommy!" Beck mewled, "Oh, Dommy... I can feel you in my heart."

It was close. By his own estimation he was bottoming-out near the small of her back, between the bulge of her cervix and a resilient, slippery muscle wall. He felt that well familiar flood as her pussy got set to detonate.

A voice yelled, 'DAMON!' and the cabin door flew open. "Becky!" Vicky cried in a panic, "I can't find...

"Damon?"

Watson looked over his sweating shoulder at a pair of wide, green eyes.

"Becky?" she breathed, her face shrivelling in shock. "Damon? What the bloody hell is going on here?"

Watson stiff-armed himself up, his cock withering inside Beck as his blood turned to ice. "Vicky. Honest. It's not how it looks."

Vicky screwed her face up until her eyes were wrinkled slits. "Not how it looks? You're naked. Lying on top of your daughter. And it's not how it looks?"

Watson raised his hips, pulling out, as Beck struggled to sit underneath him. "Macca," she panted, "honest. We can explain everything."

"Explain?" Vicky panted, backing out, "Why you're having sex? With your own father?"

"But he's not-"

"YOU BASTARD, DAMON!" Vicky screeched, "You filthy animal! You... you... you... you BEAST!"

The door slammed shut. Watson rolled over and sat on the side of the bed, head in his hands. "Well... That's blown it."

Beck knelt beside him and draped an arm over his shoulders. "Oh, Dommy," she croaked, "I'm so sorry."

Watson squeezed her knee. "It's hardly your fault."

"But it is my fault." Beck keened, then buried her face in her hands and started to cry.

"No time for that, Moosh." Watson sighed getting to his feet. Pulling his shorts up over a bewildered half-mongrel he ruffled her hair. "Come on, Sweetheart. Time for some damage control."

Watson stole forward and tried his cabin door. Locked. "Vicky," he knocked on the door, "can I talk to you?"

There was a sharp intake of breath and a voice shrieked, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Please Vicky, you have to listen. You see Beck's not really my daughter. She-"

"DON'T TALK TO ME!"

"I'm begging you Vicky, just hear me-"

Watson winced as Vicky's voice licked a strip from his hide. "I SAID DON'T TALK TO ME! NOT EVER!" There was a thud as she hurled herself screaming against the woodwork. "GO AWAY!"

Cursing miserably, the old man slouched away and mounted the steps to the cockpit. Beck was topsides, clad in baggy grey track-pants and faithful old hoodie, dressed-down in retrospective modesty. She looked up as Watson sat heavily beside her. "I heard that."

"Christ!" he breathed with a shake of the head, "What a nightmare."

Elbows on knees, Beck palmed her face. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't been so greedy."

Arm over her shoulders, Watson rocked her gently side to side. "Takes two to tango, Moosh, I'm just as guilty as you. God dammit... if only we hadn't been sprung." By someone he liked so much, who was such a vital part of Beck's putative future.

Beck dried her eyes. "Do you think it might help if I talked to her?"

Watson shrugged. "Can't hurt to try."

"No worries." Beck said, leaning forward to get to her feet. "I got us into this, I'll get us out."

"You're a good girl, Moosh," Watson said, patting her hip, "but don't go blaming yourself."

Down below, Beck rapped softly on the locked wooden door. She could hear Vicky sobbing softly inside. "Macca?" she called. "Vicky. It's me."

"What do you want?"

"Can we talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Vicky, please. Damon and me. There's something you need to know."

"Oh I know alright. Everything I need to know."

"Vicky! Listen! He's not my dad."

"Stop, Rebekah, I know he's making you say that. And you lying is just making it worse."

"Vicky please. I'm not lying. It's just that-"

"GO AWAY! Unless you want my help to get away from that... that... that monster, otherwise you're wasting your breath."

"Vicky... please?"

"I mean it. Now go away and let me pray. Let me pray for forgiveness. Let me beg for mercy for turning my back on the Lord. But before you go, I want you to give that creature a message."

Watson looked up as Beck mounted the companionway. "Vicky says we have to turn back." she announced, looking rattled.

"She what?"

"We have to turn back." Beck said, sitting beside him. "And she said if we don't, or if you so much as try to come near her, she'll throw herself overboard and hope for god's mercy."

Watson's chin hit his sternum and he knitted his fingers over top of his head. "What's she doing now?"

"Praying."

"Praying?" Watson groaned.

"Uh huh. For forgiveness. From the angry old sky fairy."

"Jesus Christ."

Beck nodded, "Him too."

The sun was coming up. Shoulders stooped under the burden of shame, Watson stepped behind the starboard helm and cranked up the engine. Beck came up beside him, looking small and frightened in her salt-starched grey pullover, her untamed hair dancing in the breeze. "What are we gonna do?"

Watson dropped the autohelm offline. "What can we do? We have to turn back. If we keep on going we'll be holding her against her will."

"Maybe she'll calm down."

"And maybe her friend Jeebers will come strolling across the water."

"He can't." Beck said woodenly, "Not since he got those holes in his feet."

"Ready to come about, Moosh?"

Beck crawled onto the elevated moulding. After making sure everything was shipshape, she called, "Leeee hohh." then dropped back down to crank the winch. As they came about the sails swapped sides, and Aurora heeled onto the opposite tack. After tidying up, Beck rubbed the old man's back between the shoulder blades. "Brekky, old boy?"

"Might as well." Watson shrugged. "And make it a big one. We can always buy more once we get back to town."

* * *

Vicky jumped ship before they'd even tied up, throwing her gear over first then springing off the bow onto the hardstand. Not a word had passed between them since Beck's first failed attempt and she left without so much as a 'farewell and get fucked'. Storming out of the marina, she waved-down the very first taxi she set eyes on and disappeared in a cloud of incendiary wrath.

Katrina from the marina had seen them pull-in and wandered down smiling to say hello. "Back so soon?" she hailed, pulling up beside Aurora on the short-stay dock. "Let me guess? You just couldn't live without me?"

"Well we're only human." Watson said wearily.

"I knew you'd come crawling back."

Beck finished tying up and stepped onto the dock to give her erstwhile boss a hug. Nobody's fool, Katrina picked up on the less than jubilant vibe. "Now that's not the old Beckinator I know. What's the matter, Darlin'? You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet."

Watson blanched at Karina's stroke of clairvoyance while Beck pulled back and swung her hair over one shoulder. "Oh, it's nothing." she shrugged, absent-mindedly weaving a thick platinum plait. "I'm just a bit tired. I had to get up early for my watch."

"Well, you see now." Katrina said knowingly, "That's what happens when you spend too long on land. You go soft."

Beck shot Watson a glance. That wasn't the only thing that could make you go soft.

"What's the plan, Stan?" Katrina asked. "How long you hanging round?"

"We've only got to make some last minute adjustments." Watson replied. "Then we'll wait for the flood and give it another crack."

Katrina's phone rang and she checked inbound ID. Turning her back, she stalked to and fro with the phone to her ear then killed the call and returned. "Sorry guys, gotta huss. Some poor old gerry's locked herself out of her apartment." She hugged Beck around the shoulders. "Don't you dare leave without at least coming up for a brew." Katrina smiled a cheeky smile. "Everyone's been asking where you are."

They watched her go, Watson dismally coiling a rope. As soon as Katrina was out of earshot Beck turned on him. "So that's it? You're just gonna let her go?"

Watson blinked. "Katrina?"

"Vicky! There must be something you can do."

"Like what? Drug her? Hypnotise her? Knock her on the head and drag her back by the hair?"

"We could always appeal to a higher authority."

"God?"

"Higher."

Watson frowned. "Higher than god?"

"Much." Beck nodded. She had her phone out and was busy waking it up. "I'm ringing Tan."

Tanya! What a brilliant idea. If anyone could sort this mess out it was she. Leaving her to it, Watson ducked down below, while Beck sat back under the Bimini, bare, brown feet crossed on the cockpit table. Thumbing Tanya's avatar, a little striped kitten, she waited and waited until the number rang out, then killed the call without leaving a message. She tried again. The third time she failed, Watson, back in the cockpit, plucked the phone from her hand and let it go to the message bank.