Uncle Bob's Charter Boat
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Amanda Masters was excited. Finally, school was out and she
could make some money again. At sixteen, there were a lot of
things she'd like to buy and they were the kinds of things her mother
wouldn't buy for her. Well, couldn't,
really. Jill Masters would have liked to be able to
buy her daughter pretty much anything she wanted, but being a single
mother, she just couldn't. Both Jill and Mandy knew that
wouldn't be good for her anyway, so neither got too broken up over the
fact that they didn't have a lot of money. Both were wise
enough to accept it was just the way things were, for the present.
Mandy picked up the phone and dialed a number she'd never forget in her
whole life. Even if the person who picked up got a new
number, she'd remember the old one forever. It was like the
combination to the padlock she used on her locker at school ...
ingrained into her brain like a brand.
"What?" yelled a gruff voice into her ear. There was a lot of
background noise, rumbling and wind and other voices in the background.
"This is your favorite niece!" she yelled into the phone. "Do
I still have a job?"
"Of course you have a job," came back that growly voice she loved so
much. "I'm going broke without you. What the hell
do you want an education for anyway?" he yelled.
"I need an education so I can get a real job and make some real money
instead of the pittance you pay me," she yelled back gleefully.
"I'm ten minutes out from the dock" he yelled. "Get your
pretty little ass down to the slip and get ready to help me unload a
whole passel of drunk passengers. I don't want any
of them falling in the drink at the end of the trip. I might
get a tip out of this bunch."
Mandy hung up and yelled to her mother that she was going to the docks.
"Wear sunscreen!" came the faint yell from the other end of the
house. "Kiss your uncle for me!"
That would be no problem. Mandy had been kissing her uncle
for years. To Mandy, they were just kisses, the same kind her
mother gave him every time she saw him. That they were right
on his soft, warm lips didn't seem odd to her. He was her
uncle ... he was special!
From Mandy's viewpoint, Bob might as well have been her father - her
mother had never married, and all she'd say about Mandy's real father
was "When you're twenty-one I'll tell you about him." Uncle
Bob lived right next door to the two of them so she saw him every day
he wasn't out on his charter boat. Sometimes those trips
could last a week or more, so it was possible to see him only a few
times a month. On the other hand, when he wasn't
out on his yacht with customers, he spent most of his time at their
house, coming and going as if he lived there. It didn't seem
odd to Mandy that he often spent the night there, saying something
like: "My poor old bones are so tired that I just can't force
them to carry me all the way over there."
Mandy laughed when he said things like that. To her mind he
was the perfect image of some movie star, not old at all, quite
handsome in a plain, strong way, with permanent creases left by smiles
on a face that was tanned and windblown. But she
didn't mind at all that he stayed the night. That usually
meant she got to stay up late playing board games with him, or watching
a movie. In the winter time, which meant it was only seventy
degrees outside, instead of ninety, sometimes he'd roast marshmallows
on the grill and make smores out of them while Mandy danced
impatiently, waiting to get her fingers all sticky with the sweet
dripping of melted marshmallow and chocolate.
And, he invariably came to their house to clean up after a cruise,
instead of his own. So it wasn't at all strange for Mandy to
see him coming out of the bathroom, clad only in a pair of faded boxer
shorts, his dark hair wild and still damp from having a towel roughed
over his head. His broad shoulders and muscles still firm
from a younger life as a wrestler in school were something Mandy was
used to seeing.
It was then, with him smelling clean and slightly perfumed from the
soap, his skin still damp, that his sister and niece would welcome him
back from the sea with hugs and kisses as he lifted them off the floor,
often twirling them around in a circle while his lips were planted
firmly against theirs. Those kisses, and the easy
comfortable friendship she shared with him during those relaxed times
would have been listed among Mandy's favorite memories, had someone
asked her to make a list of them.
Then, after eating, usually still clad only in boxers, Bob would search
for the list he knew would be on the counter somewhere, the list of
things that needed fixing, or needed muscle to get done ... what her
mother called "the honey-do list". When he found
it, Mandy would pretend to ignore him, knowing that he'd eventually ask
her to help him with most of those chores, and that, during the process
she'd learn something, and get to use power tools. She loved
all of that, but pretended to be horrified at the idea of "having" to
work with her uncle.
"Okay, pumpkin!" he'd announce. "Time to get your hands
"But Uncle Bob," she'd moan, trying to sound tragic. "I was
going to paint my nails!" She'd put on her best pout and add
something else to it, like "And my legs ... I haven't shaved them in
just years and they're all horrible and hairy. I
can't possibly spend time helping you."
Bob would snort - Mandy never painted her nails and she had shaved her
legs in the shower two or three times a week ever since she was
twelve. She had stolen one of her uncle's razors, cutting her
legs to ribbons that first time. Then he'd stalk
her all over the house as she ran from him, giggling and laughing,
until he clamped a hand on her calf and pronounced it soft as a baby's
butt. He quite often swatted her butt afterward and
told her to behave. Then they'd fix the blinds, or
retrieve the lost earring from the trap in the sink, or fix the toilet
that ran all the time, or whatever had happened while he was gone that
his sister wanted him to take care of when he got back.
So it wasn't unusual for both her mother and Mandy to be extra happy to
see him if he'd been gone quite a while. For those reasons
... and others Mandy wasn't yet aware of.
Thus Mandy looked forward to giving him the "welcome home" kisses that
her mother had alluded to by yelling "Kiss your uncle for me."
To an outside observer those kisses might have raised an eyebrow,
They were on the lips, and they weren't little pecks with no
meaning. The Masters clan believed in real hugs and real
kisses. Mandy didn't know whether she liked kissing her uncle
more when he needed a shave, or after he'd taken a shower, shaved and
was clean and smooth. She liked, for some reason,
the sharp pokes of his whiskers on her cheeks, or when he teased her by
digging his chin gently, but firmly, into her neck. She
fought him each time, but they both knew her heart wasn't really in
it. She squealed and wiggled, but it was more out of some
kind of excitement that made her warm all over than it was to fight him
off. Her mother seemed to like to kiss him a lot
But, it had always been that way. Uncle Bob had always given
both her and her mother long, strong hugs. Both of them sat
on his lap sometimes while they watched movies. Both of them
got kisses that, even when she was only eleven had made her feel like
she was melting.
And, whenever Uncle Bob stayed over, Mandy's mother always went through
the same vocal litany of complaints. First she'd
complain that the couch was too old and lumpy, and that he'd hurt his
back if he slept there, and then she'd probably have to nurse him back
to health. Then, since he couldn't sleep on the couch, as she
dragged him toward her bedroom, where the big king sized bed was, she
moaned that she wouldn't get any sleep that night because of all the
wild pigs that would suddenly be snorting around in her bedroom.
Uncle Bob had always winked at Mandy and smiled, never saying a word as
he was led away by his complaining sister. Mandy
had always giggled. She could hear her uncle snoring
sometimes through the walls, but her mother seemed to make lots more
noise than Uncle Bob ever did.
When she was quite young, Mandy had heard moans coming through the
wall, and her mother saying things. She had imagined her
mother tossing and turning, trying to get to sleep while Uncle Bob
snored. The bed springs made it clear that somebody was
tossing and turning in there. Later she noticed that the bed springs
only did that when Uncle Bob was staying over, but she then ascribed
that to HIM tossing and turning, and her mother's unintelligible words
as her harping at him to stop. But in the morning Jill
Masters was always "bright eyed and bushy tailed", as Uncle Bob said
it. She always looked particularly happy, and Mandy came to
realize that all that moaning didn't seem to mean anything
bad. She had ignored it after that.
Habit can make our mental eyes glaze over sometimes. As she
grew into a young woman, all those things had happened for as long as
she could remember, and they all seemed just as normal to Mandy as
opening your eyes in the morning. With her mental eyes glazed
over ... she never re-evaluated those bedroom noises.
Habit also made her a little less observant than she might have been
otherwise. She had never noticed, for instance, that when her
mother kissed Uncle Bob, there was always at least a little tongue
involved. He patted her mother on the butt a lot, but then he
patted Mandy on the butt too. It was just the way things
were, and the way they had always been.
This was going to be a great summer. Mandy was sure of
that. She had turned sixteen, and could drive. That
seemed to be sure to open all kinds of doors to freedom, even if she
couldn't think of anywhere in particular she wanted to go.
And now that she sixteen she could work for Uncle Bob legally and
officially. He made a very good living taking rich people out
to party or fish, and he made sure that those people had a very good
time on his boat. His first mate (only mate,
really,) was an old Mexican man named Manuel, who could cook up the
most amazing meals, and who knew how to care for the big Detroit diesel
engines in the yacht almost as well as Bob did himself. And
Mandy, always eager to learn something and be on the boat, had shadowed
Manuel, learning a lot more of what he knew than people might have
expected. Manuel, knowing she would be sixteen the next year,
had announced that it was high time he go home to Mexico in the summer
to visit his daughters and grandchildren for a few months, and
suggested that Mandy could handle things while he was gone.
Bob had rolled his eyes, while Mandy had danced happily.
Oddly enough, she only did her best cooking on the yacht. She
almost never cooked gourmet meals at home, unless it was her mother's
birthday, or some other special day.
Since he was inbound, Mandy didn't put on her bikini under her
clothes. She knew her only tasks would be the cleanup
variety, and that she wouldn't have any chance to work on her
tan. She didn't mind, though.
Hard work didn't scare her at all.
She was waiting at the dock when the Chris Craft hove into
view. She knew that, in fancy lettering on the stern were the
words "First Wife," which Bob had named the yacht because he said it
took all his money and didn't provide any sex. It was
forty-seven feet long, with a fifteen foot beam and only took up four
feet of draft. The twin Detroit engines only produced 570
horsepower, but that was plenty, even for ocean going. With
three staterooms, two heads, a shower stall that could provide either
fresh or sea water and a full galley, it was almost like living at
home. Bob had gotten a new generator that was smaller and
which allowed him to put an extra hundred gallons of fresh water on
board, which meant water didn't have to be rationed unless the boat was
going to be out for more than a week. The yacht even had an
ice maker and washer/dryer stack. Up on the bridge
there were all the bells and whistles that hadn't been there
originally, in 1967, when the boat was first launched. With
GPS and all the other electronic wizardry that had been invented, Bob
could go pretty much anywhere anybody wanted at the drop of a hat.
As usual, it looked like he was moving way too fast as he approached
the dock. Mandy held her breath as the boat slewed to
starboard and the muted thunder of the big diesels roared as he kicked
the transmission into reverse. And, as usual, the boat
stopped just short of the dock bumpers. Seconds later a rope
was thrown to Mandy who tied it down to a bollard on the dock and
then ran aft to do the same thing back there. A motorized
gang plank emerged from the side of the yacht and, as soon as it was in
place the gate at the top opened. Immediately two men,
obviously drunk, and a young woman wearing a skirt and blouse tried to
disembark. Only the built-in rail on the gang plank saved one
of the men from falling in the water as he waved what looked like a bra
at the woman.
"Marge, dammit, how'd this come off? I don't remember taking
it off. I found it on the back of the boat," he slurred.
The woman snorted. "You don't remember much of anything do
you Roger? It's a good thing you brought Chuck
along." The woman, whose blouse turned out to be on
inside out when she got close enough for Mandy to see, leaned over and
winked at the teenager. "Chuck's better in bed than
Roger even when he's drunk!" She giggled and tripped on a
gangway cleat, falling against Mandy, who kept her from falling to the
dock. The woman struggled to a standing position
and tried to straighten her clothing. She leaned toward
Mandy. "Too bad I couldn't get Captain Bob in the
sack. I bet he'd be even better than Chuck." She
laughed again and staggered off toward the shore, followed by the two
Mandy turned around to see her uncle sauntering down the gang plank.
"Captain Bob?" she grinned.
He grinned back. "I had to pull rank on her. That
woman wanted more coc..." He blushed a little. "That woman
wanted more than was on the itinerary," he
finished. "Sorry you had to see that."
Mandy giggled. She had seen the occasional woman sunbathing nude
on the boat in the past, and some men too. "You're being
silly. I'm all grown up now Uncle Bob," she stated
proudly. "I had my sixteenth birthday while you
were out fighting her off."
Bob looked startled. "I completely forgot, Pumpkin," he
moaned. "I'm so sorry. But I'll get you
something nice to make up for it, I promise."
"I don't care about that," said Mandy, telling a half
truth. "I'm just glad you kept your promise to give
me a real job." She admired her uncle's handsome form and
remembered her mother's admonition. "Mommy sent you
this," she said.
She reached for him and kissed him soundly on the lips, holding her
body against his. His chest and arms felt hard and
his lips were soft against hers. She felt a sudden urge to
wiggle against him, but didn't. She pulled back and
"And this one is from me." She kissed him again and
this time she did wiggle against him.
Bob pushed her back reluctantly. "I know you've
grown up," he said softly, running his eyes down her body.
"I've been watching you grow up." He looked almost
Mandy felt little flutters in her stomach when he looked at
her. That was something she'd felt a few times in the past,
but mostly when a boy she liked at school talked to her or brushed up
against her. Now that she was sixteen she'd also be allowed
to date, but wasn't too excited about that because she felt stupid when
she was around boys. She didn't know what to say to them, or
how to act around them. She'd let herself be lured into dark
corners at school dances, and had explored her curiosity to the point
of trying a few kisses, but her uncle was the only male she'd ever
pressed her body up against. Having that fluttery feeling
didn't really bother her with him, though. She had no trouble
talking to him.
"So when's our next cruise?" she asked.
"This afternoon," he responded. "We need to get the
boat re-provisioned and fueled up by three. Google Eyes wants
to go fishing again."
"Google Eyes" was their nickname for a man named Jim Trunion, who had a
daughter named Chastity. He always brought her with him when
he went fishing. Chastity liked to wear skimpy bikinis, when
she wasn't working on her tan. When she worked on her tan she
liked to go naked. Since Chastity was only
fourteen, that meant they had to wait until they were in international
waters before she could caper around naked. When she did, her
father stared at her, his eyes bugging out. He had
stared at Mandy too several times, which was when she christened him
"Google Eyes". He behaved himself, though, and was
a frequent and good tipping customer, so neither Bob nor Mandy
minded. Bob's rule was that tips were shared by all
Mandy squinted up at the sun. "He's not going to get much
fishing in starting that late," she noted.
"He booked an over-nighter this time," said Bob, looking at a shallow
cut on his arm that was only half healed.
"He never did that before, did he?" asked Mandy.
"Nope" said Bob. "Doubles the take, though, so it's fine with
"Okay," said Mandy. She knew what to do, and bounded up the
gangplank to begin doing it. She checked the stores
to see what would have to be replenished. Now that
she had her license, she wouldn't have to depend on Uncle Bob to take
her to the store. He had an old rusty pickup truck
parked in the marina parking lot that they used for trips to
town. The houses they lived in were only five
blocks from the marina, so nobody ever drove back and forth between
those two spots. She knew where the key was hidden,
so once she had her list together she just took off and got what was
By the time she got back Bob had refueled and pumped the water tanks
full again. He was, in fact, taking a shower when Mandy
returned and started putting things away. She had to make
several trips to the truck and was hot and sweaty herself by the time
she was done. On her last trip Bob came out of the head, his
hair and face covered by the towel he was using to dry off
with. He was wearing a pair of hot pink swimming trunks.
"Where in the world did you get those?" asked Mandy laughing.
"I thought they went well with my skin tones," minced Bob, affecting
the typical stereotype of a lisping male homosexual voice.
"Don't you think it sets my nipples off nicely?" He cupped
the swells of muscle that lay under his brown nipples as if he had huge
Mandy laughed again. "I wouldn't know. I don't look
at your nipples. That would make me a pervert, and
I'm not a pervert."
"Well you should," minced Bob some more. "They're just
delicious, you know. Theodore simply adores them."
He wiggled his hips and then jumped backwards as Mandy's hand darted
forward to grasp one of the nipples under
discussion. She held on and he had to lean forward
again, howling at the pain. He lunged for her and
she backpedaled in the narrow passageway, shrieking and kicking as he
lumbered toward her, his hands reaching for her own teenaged swells as
if he had pincers, like a crab, instead of human
hands. She made it to the galley and grabbed a
stainless steel tray out of a wall rack, pulling it over her breasts
and flattening them against her body.
"Nyah, nyah, nyah nyah nyah." She stuck out her tongue at her uncle and
"You think you're clever, don't you little girl?" taunted
Bob. His hand darted toward her, but below the tray ... way
below. He goosed her in the front of her shorts
quickly and she squealed, the tray slamming down toward his wrist.
But his wrist wasn't there any more. Both wrists ... and both
hands ... were suddenly even with her now unprotected
breasts. His fingers pinched where he hoped her
nipples were and then snapped back toward him before she could react.
"Gotcha!" he crowed. "You can't beat experience and
"Not fair ... you pervert!" squealed Mandy, trying not to
laugh. She began to chant and dance in a
circle. "Un-cle Bob's a per-vert, Un-cle Bob's a per-vert."
Bob reached out as she turned and swatted her round bottom.
"You don't know the half of it little missy," he
growled. "Now, we have a paying customer on the way
and you have work to do. No more ogling the
boss. Get to work!"
He left to the sound of Mandy's chant, which had changed to "I don't
o-gle per-verts, I don't o-gle per-verts."
Bob grinned ... until he realized he was half hard in his
trunks. Playing with his niece had been getting more and more
stimulating as time passed. She was beginning to look an
awful lot like her mother had when she had tiptoed into her big
brother's room one night to whine that her date had laughed at her
because she didn't know how to jack him off. She
had demanded that Bob teach her, and before the lesson was over had
ended up flat on her back, naked, with her big brother's boner firmly
planted in her belly, spurting its hot load of spunk inside
Jill had gone out with lots of boys, but none of them measured up to
the man who'd taken her virginity. The fact that
she'd gotten pregnant was an accident. Bob had been
gone to a high mountain survival and equestrian camp for six weeks and
Jill got so horny she let one of her dates do what, before this, only
Bob had done. She had missed her very next period, a week
before Bob had returned. She had cried a lot,
thinking that Bob wouldn't have anything to do with her any
more. He proved her wrong the first night he was
back, holding her while she cried and worried about what their parents
would say as well as working through all the other things a pregnant
teenager has to deal with when the pregnancy is not planned.
The boy who got her pregnant called her a slut when she told him about
Then, once she had cried and trembled and cried some more and sniffled,
Bob told her he'd always love her. He couldn't marry her, but
he'd always love her. Then he'd laid her down and
surrounded the new life in her womb with his own sperm. He'd
kept that growing baby surrounded by his sperm almost up until she gave
birth to Mandy. It was their way of pretending Mandy was his.
The baby girl hadn't gotten much in the way of appearance from her
biological father. She was fast becoming the spitting image
of her mother at that age and Bob noticed it
frequently. Jill knew about it, of
course. He couldn't hide the looks he sometimes gave his
niece, and he often commented how much like her mother she
looked. Jill's own practice of incest didn't bother her at
all, and she wasn't jealous of her daughter. Like
most mothers, Jill didn't perceive her daughter as a sexual
being. Mandy didn't seem much interested in boys,
something Jill could easily understand from her own dismissal of the
boys she had known. It had been just long enough,
however, that she didn't connect any more that the reason she hadn't
wanted any boyfriends was because she had all the loving she needed
from Bob. It didn't occur to her that Mandy might
be in the same situation.
To be truthful, Mandy didn't exactly harbor sexual thoughts about her
uncle. She was excited around him, but didn't
recognize that excitement as being the result of sexual
tension. He felt good against her when they hugged, and she
loved his soft lips against hers, but because he was the only male she
did those things with ... and because she had always done those things
with him ... she didn't equate their behavior as sexual
behavior. The hormones running through her
bloodstream made her feel things, but she didn't quite realize what
those things were. She was fully aware of sex, and things
sexual. She just didn't include herself as being involved in
any of that.
It was the next charter that would change all that.
None of them knew it yet, but Mandy was on a collision course with her
ripening body, and the urges she wasn't quite aware her body was
beginning to have.
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