Uncle Bob's Charter Boat

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5-15 Available On

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Chapter One

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 dirty."

"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, though.

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 too.

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 men.

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 then said.

"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 uncomfortable.

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 hands equally.

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 me."

"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 needed.

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 breasts.

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 grinned triumphantly.

"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 speed."

"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 her.

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 it.

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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