Rough Seas

This story involves incestuous sex between fathers / daughters and nieces. If that's not for you, I apologize in advance.

Rough Seas.

Boats have never been my thing. The old saying is the best day of owning a boat, is the day that you sell it, comes to mind. Having said that, if invited, I'm not opposed to spending time on a yacht or sailing vessel, but if given the choice, I always prefer solid ground.

I have friends that swear by the feeling of saltwater splashing up off the rolling seas as they cut through the azure blue waters. They claim that the sun and fresh air add years to their lives or at least makes them feel younger. And if that's the case, who am I to dispute it?

One such friend, has a passion for sailing that is so strong he is continually on a mission to upgrade the quality or size of his boat. Swearing to his wife that his latest purchase would be his last, he bought a 60' Oceanis something or other. In his words it was the Roll Royce of sailing boats with a little over 2000 square feet of living space etc, etc, etc.

Morris Grand or Moe to his friends, has always been a fast talker and that's where his money comes from. Moe has a chain of car dealerships that line the Eastern seaboard. He and I married the Evans sisters right out of high school and we both have 18-year old daughters. The only differences between us is, the size of our bank accounts and the fact that Moe and Charly are still happily married.

My marriage ended in a most devastating way. My wife Tessa and I were both 34-years old. We both worked hard and had a good life. Our daughter Hanna had just turned 12 and Tessa thought a vacation might be a great way to celebrate.

While we were on our trip overseas, Tessa fell sick and never recovered. The out of country costs of hospitalization and health care ate up every last cent of any savings that we had, but the worst part was, Hanna and I lost our mother and wife.

Moe, Charly and their daughter Taylor became inseparable from us. We did everything together. Charly always referred to Moe and me as "my men". Moe and I watched our daughters grow into beautiful young women and when they turned 18, we threatened to buy guns to keep away the young men that called on them.

Our close relationship with them was and is the thing that helps Hanna and I get by.

"Chase & Walden, Wade Davis speaking."

"Damn buddy, you sound so professional. I love calling you and getting your sexy business voice. You should do radio or television voice overs." My brother-in-law loved to give me the gears every chance that he got.

"Well it's your lucky day. I'm in full business mode for the next five hours. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Okay. So. Before you say no, hear me out." I smiled to myself because Moe always had some "Grand" scheme going on.

"Go ahead."

"So. You're turning forty and I think that we should have a little party." I was up for that. The only problem was my sister-in-law kept trying to set me up with all of her eligible friends. She said that I had mourned her sister for long enough. "Keeping her memory alive is fine, but she would have wanted you to live your life" were her words.

"I'm in. A round of golf and a couple of beers?"

"Not quite. Charly's heading to Paris with her friends for some fashion show bullshit, so I was thinking it would be a great time to fly down to the island and, well, you know, pick-up my boat."

The boat that Moe bought was docked in Bridgetown Barbados. His plan was to load up some Mount Gay Rum, sail over to Grenada, up to St Lucia and Martinique, then up through the islands until he came to Coral Bay, in the US Virgin Islands.

Charly and Moe have had a place in U.S.V.I. for as long as I can remember. It was their home away from home and they liked to spend every free minute there. According to Moe it was a great base to sail and do some island hopping. Unfortunately, I worked in the banking industry and didn't have as much time to get away as he did.

"You know that I don't have the time for that."

"Look Wade, you're your own fucking boss. Make the call. It will be good for...well us, I guess. Look we'll take Hanna and Tay with us. We get to spend time with the girls, enjoy the fresh outdoors and take a little sailing trip."

"Exactly how long is this "little sailing trip" going to take?"

"We'll be docked in Coral Bay less than two weeks after we set sail." I was hesitant to agree, and Moe knew what I was thinking.

"Come on Wade, I never ask you for a thing."

"Oh, bullshit. You ask me for everything. Hell, it's like the two of us are married"

"Maybe if you were a bit cuter and you would shave the fuckin scruff off your face, I'd consider it."

"It wasn't a proposal pal." Moe had a laugh and then I surprised the shit out of him by telling him that I'd talk to Hanna and give him an answer by morning.

My daughter Hanna takes after my side of the family. She has dark features. Dark hair, dark eyes and her skin tans easily. In my roughest estimation, I would guess that she weighs around a hundred and five, maybe ten pounds. Her body is toned from all of the activities that she likes to do. And not that I'm supposed to notice, but her perky breasts and butt are so firm that they barely bounce when we are out on our daily jogs.

Halfway through the 3-mile jog, I passed the trip information on to Hanna. She stopped dead in her tracks, bent over at the waist, placed her hands on her knees for support and looked up at me puffing.

"Wait. What? Uncle Moe invited us to go on a trip to like ten different islands and you had to think about it? Dad, what's wrong with you?" Hanna smiled at me and shook her head as if to say that I was crazy.

"I have a pretty long list of things that are wrong with me if you're truly interested. If you'd like to go with them, let me know so that I can tell Moe and Tay." Without giving Hanna a chance to answer I sprinted away. Out of the blocks I was faster than her, but she was 22-years younger and had way more stamina. She caught up to me a half mile later and punched my arm mid stride.

"You cheat old man."

"Oh yes I do. It's the only way that I can beat you baby girl."

Moe was happy with the news that we would be going. He gave me a very specific list of things to bring and things to learn.

"It's not the first time that I've been on one of your boats, asshole."

"This one's special buddy. The sticker price may have been slightly higher than I told Charly. It's a thing of beauty. I just want to take every precaution."

"You're a crafty prick. I'll pick up some new Sperry's for Hanna and me. Also, I do know my "Aft" from a hole in the ground, so why don't you kiss my "Jibe" and suck my "Rudder"."

"Real funny smart boy. Careful I don't knock your ass overboard."

"The thought of you doing exactly that has crossed my mind many times." I simple "Fuck you" and the sound of a beep ended our conversation.

We all met at the airport. Taylor and Hanna sat next to each other on the commercial flight to Miami. From there we took a 6 person Learjet 75 to Barbados. The transfer to the harbor was quiet as everyone was looking out the window to bask in the beauty of the island.

The first thing that I remember hearing clearly was Taylor when she saw the new family boat for the first time was, "Holy fuck dad. Mom's gonna kill you."

She wasn't wrong.

The 60' sloop was pearl white with teak wood accents adorning it on the upper level, while the lower portion and hull were a deep, dark blue, with "In Grand Fashion" painted on the stern in big gold letters, The shine and pristine condition told me that if this boat wasn't brand new, it was pretty damn close to being so.

"Shit Moe, are you sure that you can handle this baby with just me and the girls as your crew?" I said in a joking manner, but the more I thought about it, the more I questioned our safety.

"That's the beauty of something like this. It sails itself. Let's go. Nobody's going to pipe us aboard. Girls, you two can share the master and Uncle Wade and I will take the two smaller rooms in the back. Let's have some fun tonight, cuz baby, we set sail bright and early tomorrow." And fun was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Moe and the girls had an impromptu birthday party for me. Lots of rum. Some steaks and a small birthday cake. We danced and laughed the night away.

The diesel engine fired effortlessly and launched us toward open waters. With 7 knots of wind at our backs, even towing the small 14 foot port launch, we were making great time. The first stop on our rum purchasing tour would be Grenada.

Only 4 hours into the trip and this whole sea life thing was growing on me. The occasional spray of saltwater made me feel alive.

Moe was at the wheel of his new ship and our daughters sunbathed to their hearts delight. They were soul sisters. Having grown up with each other, they were friends just as much as they were cousins. Exactly alike and completely different. Hanna as I said before has dark features, is slim and athletic, compared to Taylor's blonde, pale, voluptuous body. They were beautiful girls that would have their choice of guys when they attended college in the fall.

Later in the day we found a slip to dock the boat and loaded up 2 cases of Westerhall 10X0 rum, and a couple of cases of something special from Venezuela, to go along with the Mount Gay. Moe would have one hell of a collection when we finished this trip.

Two hours into our second day Moe received a message from an old sailing friend of his that was in the area. Apparently, he was envious of Moe's new purchase and wanted to check it out. Moe, being the proud papa, he gave his pal some co-ordinance numbers for a small island somewhere off the coast of St Vincent.

Dropping anchor in the designated spot, we waited. It didn't take long for two 18-year old girls to get bored. Moe suggested taking the small launch over to one of the uninhabited islands nearby. It wasn't a bad idea, so we loaded up some lunch, the snorkel gear and spear gun in case we saw some supper.

"You ladies should bring a hat. The sunny is beating down pretty good."

"Oh daddy. You're such an old lady. We're only gonna be gone a few hours and unlike you, we have lots of hair to protect our heads."

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny. I cut my hair short on purpose, because I like wearing hats."

"Bullshit Wade. You'll be bald by the time you're fifty."

"Don't make me swear at you in front of the kids, Moe." The girls laughed and Taylor said, "It's true what mom says. Every day you and dad are more and more like an old married couple."

"Well I'd hope that I could do better than your father if I ever picked to go that way."

Moe jumped in with a, "you wish buddy" and pushed us off.

The small island was rocky on the side facing Moe's boat. It didn't look like much from this side, but the other side was full of palm trees and sandy beach. With greenery and the clear blue water, it looked like one of those tiny islands in a tropical paradise.

Landing our small launch on the beach was perfect. The gentle waves pushed the boat up onto the deserted beach on the backside of the island.

The girls swam and snorkeled around the rocky reef that protected the beach. They raved about the amount of sea life that was near shore. In fact, in less than 90 minutes, we had about 20 lobsters in our mesh bag.

Up on the sandy shore the girls started picking at the food that we had brought while I checked in with Moe.

The alarming message on my phone almost caused me to drop it in the sand. "Stay where you are. Don't come back until you hear from me." It was sent just over 45 minutes after we had left him alone. 2 minutes after his first message came another. It was a simple one-word explanation to what was happening. "Pirates".

I knew Moe wasn't joking around. He wasn't the type of guy to kid or joke about the safety of his only daughter.

My problem was that I was torn. Should I go and try to help my friend or stay and try to protect our children. The answer was simple.

After 30 minutes of pacing the beach and keeping my eyes peeled for anything or anyone approaching, the girls noticed.

"Uncle Wade, what's up?"

"Nothing baby, just looking around."

"Yeah right. You haven't been the same since you checked your phone." Evidently, my poker face sucked, and I couldn't bluff my way out of this situation.

I showed the girls the message that I had received and immediately regretted it. Both broke out into tears and sobbed into one another's arms.

"It's okay. Moe's gonna be fine. We'll wait until we hear from him, then we'll go back to the boat." I hoped that what I was saying was true, because hope was all that I had.

We had moved to the shade and let three hours pass before I made up my mind to move. "Come on. We'll go slow and stay as quiet as possible. We'll sneak around the corner of that rock cliff and see what's up."

It was a good plan, but it didn't work. We crept along at a slow putter of a speed. Stayed low and when we got the corner of rocks it was gone. "In Grand Fashion" was nowhere to be seen. The spot in the sea where it had been anchored was calm and flat.

Taylor screamed out load. This was bad, really fucking bad. We revved up the engine and accelerated toward the spot. There was nothing. The horizon was a blank canvas. No trace of a wake or a sail to be seen for miles.

For the sake of searching, we cruised around the island twice. We looked in every possible inlet to see if Moe may have jumped or was perhaps thrown overboard. But to no avail. It was a small island, so it didn't take that long to search.

We headed back to where we had landing earlier in the day. The sobbing girls emptied the boat of all the things that could be of use, and I dragged it up out of the water. With only 4 or 5 hours left of sunlight we had to make a survival game plan and make it fast.

The girls gathered firewood by the arms full. Anything that would burn, worked. I took the canopy off the dingy for some shelter, formed a "V" that made a trough with the bailing bucket from the boat at the bottom of it, just in case of a nightly rain.

Unfortunately, neither of the girl had their phones with them and mine was less than 25% charged so we would have to make very good use of the time that we had.

Our search of the island found a couple of things that would be useful. Off the shoreline, a little deeper in the vegetation we found a few pineapples growing, a tree full of avocados, another tree that had a sort of red pear growing on it and some sugarcane. Overall, we got fairly lucky. Eating those things, along with some raw fish if needed, we could stay hydrated enough to survive, even if it didn't rain.

We made the fire on the beach, near the water so that it might draw the attention of any passing ships or boaters it was one of our few hopes. I didn't dare to text Moe for his safety and ours. I had to force the girls to eat some of the lobster that we had caught earlier in the day. There was no hot garlic butter and rolls to go with it, but we made do. The first problem with our arrangement came shortly after dinner. Their whispers told me something was up, and I was correct.

"Dad. We gotta poop." My life did a total rewind and I honest hadn't heard those words come out of Hanna's mouth since she was eight years old.

So, with my t-shirt torn up into what had become reusable strips of toilet paper, the girls headed to the rocky part of the beach.

The tropical night air can be chilling to say the least. The wind comes up off the water and chills you to the bone. With two shivering girls at my side, I no option but to make a second fire closer to our makeshift tent.

As soon as the sun peeked it's face over the blue horizon of the Atlantic so that it could get a look at the Caribbean Sea, we were up.

It had been a long 16 hours since our last correspondence with Moe. The girls and I agreed that the first person that we should call would be Charly. The only bad part of that plan was that she was on the other side of the ocean in France. The three calls went directly to voice mail. Taylor sobbed into the phone trying to leave her mother as detailed message as possible.

Valuable data and power was used up trying to contact the Coast Guard in the area, and when we finally reached someone that spoke English, the phone died before we could give them all the details.

The last hope might be the boat that sat in front of us. From the highest vantage point of our tiny island, I could see what I assumed was St Lucia. It was a hazy speck on the water, and it appeared to be many miles away. My main concerns were the gray skies out over the ocean and running out of gas halfway across the divide and being set adrift, floating aimlessly in choppy water.

"It's not worth it baby. Someone will come for us soon. I promise."

"Daddy, please. We have to do something."

"There's not much that can do at this point. We need to stay put and stay safe." They didn't what to hear no for an answer, but I knew that it was for the best. "Why don't you and Tay go exploring. Do some swimming and try to take your minds off this. I'll gather some more wood and try to figure something out for tonight."

With piles of wood on the beach, we were set for a while. My next task was a better shelter. Hacking down whatever trees and leaves that I could, I built a lean to styled tent. Pushing sand up over the edges of the palm leaves, would help them stay in place and would also barricade some of the wind. Over the top, I tied the boat canopy for a bit more protection in case of rain and by night fall, I was very happy that I had.

The rain came down in buckets. Straight down, with no wind. It seemed like that storm had picked our little island and decided that it would drown us just for fun.

Surprisingly we stayed fairly dry, with only a few drips and drops of water finding their way to our skin. But the water did put out our fire and dampen any chance of warmth for the night.

"Uncle Wade, I'm freezing. Can you cuddle me?" The thought of any warmth made us all aware that cuddling might be the answer we were looking for.

"No problem. Tomorrow we'll get the fire going again and dry off." That turned out to be a lie.

The next day, the rain had let up, somewhat. Not enough to dry off and not enough to start a fire, but enough to be able to see more than 100 yards away. When the rain finally did come to an end, it was dark and still too wet to even consider a fire, and that was a shame.

Less than 5 miles off the shore we could see a cruise ship with all of its lights shining off the water. The white glow of the bulbs reflected off the black sea giving it a mirror image in the water. Both girls cried openly when they saw the ship.

Day four was a little better all around. We had some pineapple for breakfast, some of the red pears for lunch and guess what, yeah, fish for supper. During the day the girls took to the water. They took turns using the fine silky sand to exfoliate each-others, backs and shoulders, then they did their hands and feet. If we ever did get rescued, they would have the smoothest skin on the planet. It wasn't until Taylor turned toward our camp that I noticed she was topless.

No. No, she was nude. When she got up on her knees to change positions, I could see every inch of her naked skin. I wanted to yell out to put her suit back on, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her pale skin was showing signs of redness, but only because our supply of sunscreen was dwindling down to a few drops left in the tube.

Without moving, I stared. I watched my 18-year old niece move about in the water. Her soft breasts swayed about as she moved. Her round white ass jiggled along to a beat that only her body could hear and when she turned her back to Hanna, I got a perfect view of her vagina.