tagAnalRescue at Sea

Rescue at Sea

byGWBosh©

Mike lowered his binoculars and pushed the throttle forward to the maximum. It would be an exaggeration to say his battered cabin cruiser surged ahead. A large cloud of black smoke and a backfire burst from the exhaust, the ancient hull vibrated, slowly the revs mounted and the inappropriately named "Queen of the Waves" lurched and protested as the speed built up to 15 knots.

Through his binoculars Mike had seen hundreds of gannets diving into the water. He knew what that meant. A huge school of pilchards. From the air the gannets were feasting and he knew that in the water below the game fish would be assembling. A great chance for a big kingfish or tuna.

Slightly ahead and to starboard there was a large, modern cruiser, a gin palace more than twice as long as his modest craft. He was surprised to see it this far out. Usually the fat cat owners wouldn't venture into these waters, so far from port, when there were closer bays where they could moor to drink their champagne and nibble their salmon salads. The two cruisers had the sea to themselves.

The gin palace was still 200 hundred meters away when he drew level. Then he noticed two women waving. That was strange. The occupants of such craft always ignored his with its fading paint and unkempt look. Mike looked behind to see if they were waving at someone else.

No, the sea was empty.

Mike lived out on an outer island in a settlement of five cabins making a modest living writing computer software via the Internet as he wrote his book. At 20 years of age old he had got fed up with university and enjoyed the solitude of life three hours by sea from civilization.

The other owners of the cabins were holiday makers and most of the time, like now, he had the island to himself. Just as he liked it.

He gave the women a wave and checked the gannets far ahead with his binoculars. He scanned to the gin palace. The women came into full focus. Looked like a mother and daughter.

"Why the fuck were they waving so much?" He looked more closely. They had their hands by their mouths and looked like they were shouting. He couldn't hear anything over the raucous noise of his straining engine. Probably some Smart Alec comment about the dilapidated state of "Queen of the Waves."

He resisted the urge to wave two fingers at them and turned his attention to the distant gannets.

Then it dawned on Mike. They were calling for help. He looked back at the gannets. There were hundreds of them. There must be some great fish below. It was also only a couple of hours until dusk. If he stopped to help, there went his chance of a decent fish.

Cursing, Mike reluctantly changed course and headed for the larger boat. As he got closer he could see them more clearly. Both were wearing sun dresses. Long dark hair and as far as he could see from this distance, slim figures. The daughter looked like a clone of her mother. Maybe 18. The mother looked far too young to have a daughter that age, but Mike knew that where there is enough money for a gin palace like that, there was enough money for personal trainers, age reducing creams and perhaps a cosmetic surgeon's scalpel.

He drew close to the stern of the cruiser. He tossed a rope to the mother and cursed again as she dropped it. She dropped it again on the next attempt. Mike sighed and pointed to the daughter who caught the rope the next time. Mike had to yell at them to tie it onto a cleat, which he saw they did very inexpertly.

He finally got close enough to jump onto the transom then climb aboard. Ignoring the women he quickly tied a knot to secure his own boat.

"Why didn't you come sooner? Couldn't you see us waving?" the mother asked with a frosty stare.

"I thought you were just being friendly."

"Friendly? Do you think we would wave at someone in a tub like yours for twenty minutes, just to be friendly?"

Mike sighed to himself. He had forsaken a fighting tuna to be abused by an upper class snob. He looked the mother. An aristocratic beauty, there was no doubt. High cheekbones which were accentuated by her long dark hair being drawn sharply back from her face. A perfect, almost unlined complexion and, at this moment a haughty, disdainful expression.

But, as he tried to think of a reply, Mike noticed the smile lines at the side of her eyes and thought perhaps there was a hint of a smile with that haughtiness. She was tall, only a couple of inches shorter than his six feet. Her sun-dress hid most of her body, but it was obvious she was slim. The sun dress, however, hid almost none of her legs which were long, so long, slim, tanned and shapely with a hint of muscle tone.

She seemed uninterested in Mike's admiring gaze, but did seem to be waiting for his response.

"Have I given up the chance of catching a tuna, just to have my beloved "Queen of the Waves" abused by people I'm rescuing from a watery grave?

"Are you telling me you love that tub?" There was definitely a strong hint of a smile now.

Mike looked as his craft, smoke belching from the exhaust, the paintwork which he had been intending to paint for two years, but hadn't got around to it, the three cracked windows with strips of masking tape, the pile of empty beer cans which again he had been planning to tidy up, but hadn't quite managed.

"'Queen of the Waves' has always been faithful, been there when I have needed her. Unlike most women I've known." He looked her steadily in the eyes.

The twinkle in the mother's eyes brightened.

But the daughter interrupted.

"He's dead."

Mike was not used to death, but felt he was expected to commiserate.

"I'm sorry to hear that. None of us go on forever I guess." But even as he said it, he felt that his compassion sounded hollow.

"Who's dead?" he added as an afterthought.

"The charter skipper. He went to the toilet and when we checked after half an hour, there he was sitting there."

"Sitting there?"

"Yes, on the toilet with his trousers down." Was that a slight grin that Mike noticed?

"Perhaps he has eaten something unpleasant and just needs some time. He could be constipated"

"That was three hours ago. He's still in exactly the same position with exactly the same stupid expression on his face." The mother's tone had become haughty again.

Bracing himself Mike went to the toilet. He had never even seen a dead body before. He opened the door and saw a fat, middle aged man, sitting on the toilet, shorts around his ankles and leaning into a corner. There was a look of surprise on his face.

"Fuck, I suppose I'd be surprised too." empathized Mike.

He touched the skin of the body. It seemed very cold.

"How can you tell if someone is dead?" he wondered. Then he remembered an old movie.

"Do you have a hand mirror?" he asked the women who had followed him.

"Why do you need a mirror for heavens sake?" The mother looked irritated.

"Just get one if you have one please."

With a skywards roll of her eyes the mother went to her handbag.

He held the mirror in front of the corpse's mouth. No misting at all. According to the movie, no misting meant no breathing and no breathing meant death.

"Dead," Mike pronounced. " Like last week's roast dinner. Poor bastard. What a way to go. With your trousers down."

"I've already told you that he's dead. He's been there for three hours. I've stuck him with this pin ten times to try and get some reaction." She pointed to a large safety pin. "Why did you have to touch him with my mirror?"

"I saw it in a movie."

The daughter giggled, even the mother had a smirk.

"What a coincidence. I saw a movie where someone used a safety pin to check a corpse."

Her smirk turned to a smile and when her daughter started laughing, the mother joined in. Out of deference to the dead, Mike tried not to laugh, but failed.

He composed himself and closed the door to try and give the corpse some dignity.

He took the opportunity to study the daughter. She was an inch shorter than her mother. She had her mother's bone structure but her face was softer with her youth. Possibly her breasts were bigger and her legs were the match of her mother's.

Her expression was not haughty in the slightest. More a wide eyed innocence but she did have that alluring, mischievous twinkle of her mother.

"If he's been dead for three hours, why didn't you call for help?"

"Me! Are you mad? How would I know how to work the fucking radio thing?" The mother was indignant. "And we've been out of cellphone range."

"So, we've been sailing around for three hours trying to find port," said the daughter.

"Port's that way," said Mike. "You've come in the wrong direction. This way is South America."

The mother glared. "Well, use the radio yourself."

This was a problem for Mike. Although he spent a lot of time at sea he was ignorant when it came to nautical equipment. "Must take that Master Mariner's course soon," he had been saying for years

He looked at the radio and uselessly twiddled a couple of knobs.

"I don't know these ones. Where's the manual?"

"We spent three hours looking for it. There isn't one." The mother eyed him coldly. "You'll have to use the radio on your tub."

Mike was starting to take serious exception to her description of his beloved craft, but embarrassment stopped him . He didn't have a radio.

"Ah um, mine's not working right now."

The mother looked at him in disbelief. She looked at her daughter.

"Well Sarah, let this be a good lesson for you about men. One is sitting on the toilet, stone dead, and this one" pointing at Mike, "our saviour, our rescuer, is obviously brain dead."

Sarah looked at Mike, then started to giggle. Mike watched in amazement as the mother started to smile and then laugh. The two women held each other as they laughed hysterically.

Although the joke was directed at him, Mike could see the humor and couldn't suppress a grin.

The mother looked at him.

"I'm sorry, that's a bit unfair. My name is Simone and this is Sarah."

Mike introduced himself.

"Well, Skipper Mike, what do you suggest?"

"Won't the charter company be looking for you?"

"I don't think they will miss us until tomorrow. We were going to moor in a bay and have two days out here."

"It's called Dead Man's Bay. We got the dead man but we didn't get the bay," Sarah giggled but soon she and her mother were laughing in each other's arms. This time Mike laughed out loud.

"It's going to be dark in a couple of hours. The only safe mooring we can get to is the bay where I live. We'll go there and I'll call the coastguard."

Mike went back to his cruiser and they set off. But after a couple of minutes of watching the erratic steering of Simone and Sarah he dropped back and after some frantic signals got them to stop. He set up a rope so that "Queen of the Waves" could be towed by the gin palace.

Mike took the wheel and Simone and Sarah stood beside him.

"Are you sure you know how to do this?" asked Sarah.

"I'm the skipper as your Mum just said. I won't take insubordination. You can always abandon ship"

He pushed her towards the stern.

"Aye aye, skipper," said Sarah grinning at him and saluting.

"Well what are your orders, skipper?" Simone was also smiling.

"We must give a farewell toast to the recently departed. Is there any booze on board?"

"Booze? Yes skipper, we have that well under control. About the only thing Sarah and I do have under control on this boat."

Again the two women laughed. Mike wondered what he had struck.

Sarah returned a bottle of champagne and three glasses. She filled them and the three of them walked to the toilet and Mike opened the door. The former skipper was still there, still with his shorts around his ankles and still with that startled look on his face.

"Farewell, old Sea Dog," intoned Mike. "May the seas be calm in heaven."

"Farewell, old Sea Dog," intoned Sarah. "May your heaven be full of beautiful mermaids."

"Farewell, old Sea Dog," intoned Simone. "Watch out when you let down your trousers in heaven."

After the laughter had stopped they drained their glasses.

"Why did the two of you come out on a charter?" asked Mike when he got back to the wheel.

"It was an impulse. Yesterday Sarah and I told my husband to piss off."

"Can you believe it skipper Mike? He was having an affair with his secretary. She is half Mum's age and about three times her weight."

"To be quite honest Sarah," Mike said looking at Simone. "No I can't. He must be mad."

Simone smiled at him then turned to Sarah.

"What did I tell you about men sweetheart? The three most recent men in our lives and one is stone dead, this one is brain dead and the other is mad."

Mike laughed longer than the two women did.

Sarah changed the topic.

"So this morning we wondered how we would celebrate Daddy's departure. I thought of a cruise and we would have a party on the beach."

"We wanted to make it formal so we brought our evening dresses," said Simone.

Mike wondered when he would wake from this dream.

Sarah filled their champagne glasses.

"Farewell toasts to Daddy," she said.

"Farewell, dear Rupert," intoned Simone. "May my lawyers take every cent you have."

"Farewell, dear Daddy," intoned Sarah. "Please don't have sex with her on top. You'll get crushed."

Again hysterical laughter and another female embrace. Mike thought Rupert may have done the sensible thing by escaping.

"Your turn skipper Mike."

Mike thought.

"Farewell poor Rupert. May you enjoy the peace and tranquility you will have without these women and their jokes."

Sarah and Simone looked at Mike.

"We are so lucky having skipper Mike as our rescuer, aren't we Mum?"

"We certainly are. A silver tongue is far more important than knowing how to work a radio."

They came and stood either side of him at the wheel. They were so close that their bodies were touching him as they stared ahead. Mike caught a whiff of perfume from both.

Simone asked Mike some questions about his life.

"You're writing a book. How interesting. What is it about?"

Mike looked her in the eye. "It's a saga of noble, honorable men and faithless, scheming women."

Simone looked him in the eye with her engaging twinkle and her face seemed to glow. She put her hand on his.

"How absolutely perfect. What else?"

"A heart rending tale of two such noble men. Both met the same two women. Women of great beauty and devastating wit. Neither man could cope. One chose to escape with another woman twice his size, the other chose to die on a toilet at sea."

Simone turned Mike's head so that she could see his face.

She could not contain her giggles. "Skipper Mike, you are such a romantic." And she gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

Sarah filled the champagne glasses again. "A toast to skipper Mike's masterpiece."

"To my humble scratchings," said Mike. "May they do justice to these extraordinary women."

"To skipper Mike's masterpiece," said Sarah. "May his hero be able to cope with those two women." And, like her mother before, kissed him briefly on the lips.

"To skipper Mike's masterpiece," said Simone. "May his hero's most passionate dreams become reality."

Again she kissed him. This time there was a touch of her tongue on his lips.

Both Sarah and Simone put an arm around Mike's waist. Again Mike wondered when he would wake from his dream.

He steered with one hand and let the other drift lightly down Simone's neck. She turned to kiss him again, this time her lips parted and her tongue pushed between Mike's lips. Mike let his hand drift down her spine. His fingers confirmed what his eyes had suspected. Simone was not wearing a bra.

He casually drifted his hand lower to the hem of her short sun dress and raised it so that he could squeeze her buttocks. Simone kissed him even longer then turned to look ahead. But she pushed her bum back against his hand.

At first Mike thought she was wearing no knickers, but then he found the string of her thong. His erection bounced up inside his shorts.

He felt a finger gently run down his cheek and turned to look at Sarah.

"No favoritism between crew members skipper Mike," she whispered, thrusting her lips to his. She lifted the one hand which Mike had on the wheel and placed it on her bum. Mike was forced to take his hand from Simone and return it to the wheel. She didn't seem to mind as she kissed his cheek briefly as Mike kissed her daughter. Simone tightened her arm around his waist.

Mike's hand explored Sarah's buttocks. They were similarly delightful firm, soft mounds. Her thong was just as skimpy as her mother's and, from the way she pushed back her bum into his hand, her pleasure was the same as her mother's.

They came closer to shore and unfortunately Mike needed both hands to manage the cruiser.

"What are you thinking Skipper Mike?" asked Sarah, stroking the side of his face.

"Do you want the truth or shall I make something up?"

"Which would be more interesting?"

"The truth is I was wondering why mother and daughter are wearing identical thongs."

"Hmmm," said Sarah pensively. "There are two questions there. The first is why do we have the same thongs. The answer to that is that I bought a packet of two and Mum stole one."

Simone ran her lips and tongue around Mike's ear sending a thrill through his spine to his erection.

"But our skipper's question could mean why are we wearing thongs? Isn't that so Sarah?"

Sarah nodded. "Good question. Why are we wearing thongs Mum?"

"I don't know. I can't really think of any good reason why we should be wearing thongs."

Mike was well experienced for a 20 year old but nothing had prepared him for what happened next. Both women reached under their short dresses and dragged down their thongs. Sarah picked them both from the floor and threw them over the side.

Both women resumed their positions standing on either side of him, staring straight ahead into the dusk and saying nothing.

Mike had to concentrate carefully to navigate through a narrow passage between the rocks which guarded the entrance to the bay where he lived.

This time it was Sarah who caressed his ear with her lips and tongue.

"And what are you thinking now, Skipper Mike?" .

"Truth or fiction?"

"Which would be more interesting?"

"I was thinking about the tuna I would have caught if I hadn't been forced to rescue you."

"Oh, Skipper Mike, that is such a lovely thought. Because of us a beautiful fish is still alive. Sarah, that's our good deed for the day."

"Isn't life strange with it's swings and roundabouts. The skipper of this boat is dead, with his trousers off, but we have saved a poor fish's life."

Both women then burst into giggles and leaned against Mike as they laughed. As their bodies bounced with mirth Mike was aware of four unfettered breasts against his sides. He was glad of the increasing dark to hide his rampant erection

They arrived at the mooring buoy.

"Right, crew," said Mike. "There's work to be done. Are you two going to help or just be decorative."

"Just be decorative of course," said Simone and sat on a bench. This caused her dress to ride up and Mike realized that without an unfortunate shadow he would have been able to see her pussy.

Sarah said, "We paid good money for this charter on the basis that someone else would do all the work."

"But you paid it to him," Mike pointed to the toilet. "And I can't see him doing much to help."

Sarah came over to him, put her arms tightly around his neck and looked earnestly into his eyes. Mike was aware of her teenage breasts against his chest. Of her knicker-less pubic mound pressing against his erection.

"Skipper Mike," she whispered. "We'll find some way to pay you." She went and sat beside her mother.

Mike took the dinghy and moored "Queen of the Waves." When he returned he found that Simone and Sarah had made a modest effort. Each had a small suitcase. There were two large chilly bins and one small one.

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byGWBosh© 17 comments/ 216582 views/ 37 favorites

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