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From: Willy Tamarack <willytamarack@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack" 29/30 {Willy Tamarack} (MF 69)
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Date: Thu, 20 Aug 2015 08:10:04 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Tamarack29.txt" begin>

Author: Willy Tamarack
Title: The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack - Battle at Sea
Part: 29 of 30
Universe:
Summary:
Keywords: (MF 69)
Language: English


***************************************************************************

   @(C) 1996-2015 Willy Tamarack Commercial use in any form requires the
written permission of the author and will ensure a portion of the proceeds
goes to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML).

   !!!!!  ATTENTION !!!!!

   Before we get going here, several notes.  The following is a sex story.
A stroke story.  A porno story.  The content is unsuitable for youngsters
and some adults may find it objectionable.  I've ensured my material is
properly coded and registered.  Adults, who have custodial responsibility
for young minds, must ensure this smut doesn't fall into their children's
hands.  To charge the government with that responsibility.  Wow !  Don't
get me started.

   All my stories are total fantasy.  They are fiction, made up.  MSU (made
shit up).  I started this effort in several forms before deciding on "The
Chronicles" for a direction.  Yes !  Willy is back !  Escaping from the
cartels and Federales in Mazatlan is not as easy as Willy planned.  Karma
shines on Willy for a week or so here but large storm clouds are lining the
horizon.

   And while the plot and subplots of the following tale stem from the
author's fertile imagination...The characters...Well, the characters are
also total fantasy.  They don't exist, never have and never will.  Any
public figures mentioned are for background and time line purposes only.

   Remember now...Sex should be fun !  As always e-mail your comments to
the usual.

   The Chronicles of

   Willy Tamarack

   Battle at Sea

   (MF 69)

   by

   Willy Tamarack

   With thanks to the founding fathers and the U.S.  Constitution

   Chapter Eighty-five

   Jill had the throttle wide open as she headed north about a hundred
yards off shore.  There was a good swell running.  Jill figured the shore
break was four, possible five feet.  Too much for the wave runner.  Willy
was going to have to swim through the shore break.  She communicated that
information to the "Viper."

   I had just dialed the yacht.  Heard the last few words of Jill's
transmission and then caught sight of her a moment after it ended.  She was
throwing up a large rooster tail as she moved north.  A good set was
humping up and crashing on to the shore.  I had the sheets tied together
and anchored to the bed.  I went to the door and listened as I stripped off
my clothes.  I was wearing a pair of speedos as underwear.  I heard a chair
scrape back against the floor.

   I moved back to the window and told the yacht, "I've got a visual on the
wave runner and am coming out now.  I'll meet you outside, Jill." I pulled
the memory out of the phone, stuck it in my speedos and threw the phone on
to the bed.

   One last tug on the sheets then I pulled open the window and threw the
sheet out.  I leaned over and watched it fall to about six feet short of
the ground; looked up and found the wave runner a lot closer.  I took a
hold of the sheet and climbed over the sill.  This was a lot harder than
they make it look in the movies.

   I was at the end of my rope and dropped to the ground.  It wasn't as far
as I thought.  I started running for the beach.  I was in the sand and
really digging.  I could see Jill off shore, idling just outside the
breakers that were throwing up and over about fifty yards off shore.  I was
in the water, knee deep and still running, picking up my feet, knees high.

   A good four foot wave was forming on the horizon and now I couldn't see
the wave runner any more.  The wave was starting to break.  I dove for the
bottom.  The turbulence was not as bad as I expected and I came out the
back of the wave swiming the crawl and put in eight good strokes before
raising my head.

   Another wave, larger than the first, was upon me and I went to the
bottom again.  The turbulence was much stronger and the bottom was now rock
not sand.  I got a few scrapes but was swimming again.  After ten strokes,
I stopped swimming, looked up and there she was about half a football field
south of me.  I tread water and yelled as loud as I could.

   Jill had been just idling around in circles waiting to catch sight of
Willy.  She'd watched him climb out the window and fall to the ground then
run across the beach and out into the surf.  But after that he disappeared
into the waves.  She had her back to him when she heard the sound.  She
goosed the throttle and turned on a dime.  She was hardly moving when she
caught sight of his head bobbing well outside the shore break.

   Jill opened the throttle and moved toward me.  She extended her arm and
I grabbed her hand as she slowly moved by me.  I pulled myself on board and
wrapped my arms around her waist.  "Hit it, Jill." The acceleration almost
pulled me off the back of the wave runner.  I held Jill tighter.  We were
hauling ass.

   *****

   Lance Hamilton found the guard sleeping in a chair that was leaning back
against the wall.  He called to the man.  He jumped to his feet and saluted
Lance.  The key was in the door so Lance turned it and threw the door open.
He immediately saw the clothes on the floor.  He burst into the room, saw
the window open and the sheets hanging over the sill.  He rushed to the
window.

   The beach was empty.  It was now a good half hour after sunset.  It was
getting dark.  He yelled down stairs to the Captain.  Telling him to get
patrols out to find the prisoner.  He stopped looking up and down the beach
and instead looked out to sea.  He could barely make out the silloette of
the boat against the dying light, it's lights off, several miles off shore,
making it's way north.  It would disappear beyond the point at Playa Bruja
in just a few moments.

   Lance dialed Culican.  It was answered on the first ring.  "My people
are on their way to pick him up now.  Should be there in an hour or so."
Greeted Lance.

   "He's escaped from the Federales.  I believe he swam off shore and is
now on a boat sailing out to open sea.  If you have some swift sport
fishing boats you may be able to catch him.  And in international waters,
well, it's a big ocean out there."

   "Fucking Federales..." The connection was terminated.  Lance put his
phone away and headed down stairs.  The Captain was still watching the soap
opera.  Lance left the estancia.  The troops were still playing soccer
under the lights of the tennis courts.

   *****

   Jill drove the wave runner to within two or three yards, trailing the
"Viper" as it moved slowly through the ocean.  It seemed we were hardly
moving compared to the wide open sprint to the yacht.  Micky was at the
helm and Yachtsman was getting ready to throw us a line.  Erin and Amanda
had the AKs slung over their shoulders, keeping an eye out.

   It was dark out now.  Yachtsman threw the line to us and I caught it. 
We attached it to the nose of the wave runner and now were being towed by
the "Viper" as the electric motors hummed away.  Ten minutes later Jill and
I were aboard leaving the wave runner trailing behind.

   Twenty minutes later we were rigging for sail and bringing the wave
runner on board.  Yachtsman and Jill were topside doing the sailing.  They
had two laptops set up near the helm.  One to map our position via GPS and
the other to present the radar picture.  There were no targets within
twenty miles of us, the maximum reach of the "Viper's" radar.  I went below
with Erin, Amanda and Micky.  All of us were wearing ear pieces and boom
mics.

   The weapons were spread out all over the galley.  The AKs were hanging
from hooks on the ceiling and Micky's long rifle was on the wall above the
galley table.  There were several boxes of amunition under the galley
table. We were ready.  Now the waiting.

   *****

   It was after nine, while Lance Hamilton was eating dinner, when the call
came.  It was Culican.  They informed him they had two boats ready to
persue.  They were hoping that they wouldn't have to search the entire
Pacific to find their quarry.  Lance laughed into the phone and told them
he'd get right back to them.  He made another call and was told it'd be a
couple of hours before they could fill his request.  He called Culican back
and informed them it'd be a couple of hours.

   It was actually closer to mid-night, three hours or so, before Lance got
a call back.  They sent the pictures to his blackberry.  Lance studied
them. They had the lat-long overlayed on the pictures.  The sailboat was
just a dot at that altitude.  He figured they'd run to Baja and then head
up the coast for the USA.  He sent the pictures to Culican and told them
they'd get another set tomorrow morning.

   *****

   The dock was lit up like it was daylight.  Two sport fishing boats were
tied up and idling, their crews busy preparing to depart.  The call had
come a couple of hours ago and these guys had worked their balls off
getting the vessles ready.  Each boat had ten ten liter plastic containers
full of petrol aboard and enough food and drink for an army.

   The pickup trucks could be heard a long while before they pulled into
the parking circle and disgorged their cargo.  The men, there were twenty
of them, were all armed with automatic weapons.

   It was after midnight before they were boarded and the sport fishing
boats pulled away from the dock.  Their quarry had close to a six hour
lead. The crew was left ashore, leaving the captains alone and they had no
idea where they were going ?  Their engines rumbled as they left the marina
and headed out into open ocean.  There was a roar when they pushed it up to
cruising speed, twenty-two knots.  The lights of the fishing vessels could
be seen speeding off to the northwest.

   Chapter Eighty-six

   I was at the helm of the "Viper" and we were making very good lines in
open ocean.  We'd ducked behind a cruise ship, that was on it's way to
Cabo, about an hour ago but since then no targets had appeard on the radar.
Erin was with me and everyone else was asleep.  We'd done some math work
earlier and figured they had to be be several hours behind us.  Impossible
to know for sure.  Yachtsman couldn't imagine them finding us in the dark
so they'd lag us until after sunrise.  Still it would be very difficult to
find the "Viper" in open ocean even with satallite support.  Erin and I
agreed and that's why we were going to make them think they were chasing us
to Hawaii.  We were heading southwest, straight for a popular west coast -
Hawaii ocean liner route, away from the Baja and Cabo.

   Erin and I were pretty stoned when the rest of the crew started to rise
at a little after six.  The sun was rising and there was a very good, stiff
breeze out of the north.  We were making excellent speed and Yachtsman was
stoked.  After he and Jill took command of the "Viper," the rest of us
headed down stairs for breakfast.

   After eating, I hit the rack.  Erin slept with me.  I dreamed about a
time, long ago, when I was on a boat and there were bad guys chasing us. 
We had a lot of gold on board as I remember.  This time we had nothing but
our lives on the line.  Yachtsman mentioned that we could easily make the
western Pacific if we reprovisioned in Hawaii.  He even knew some people.

   Yachtsman was right.  It was probably time to disappear.  But I had too
much invested back home in Henderson to just leave.  I was too old for the
gypsy life style.  No, if we got out of this jam ?!  We'd end up back at
the "Villa" in Henderson.  Yachtsman planned to take us about a thousand
miles off the west coast before we made sail for Newport Beach.  It would
be a ten day trip.  We'd be off most shipping lanes once we made a break
for it.  He didn't figure anyone could find us.  I agreed with him.

   *****

   Lance recieved another satellite update at six the following morning. 
He compared it to the one he received last night.  He'd guessed wrong and
sent Culican's boats in the wrong direction.  The "Viper" was heading to
the southwest not the northwest toward the Baja.  They were now several
hundred miles from the southern tip of Baja and appeared to be heading for
the open Pacific, maybe Hawaii ?  Culican's fishing boats would be arriving
near the southern tip of the Baja within several hours.  They were at least
six hours from intercepting the "Viper" if he could head them in the right
direction.

   He dialed Culican and gave them some instructions.  He needed to know
how much fuel they had on board ?  Could they refuel at Cabo ?  They had
GPS, right !?  What was their max speed ?  Lance was thinking that they'd
be extremely lucky to direct the fishing boats to within twenty miles miles
or so of the "Viper." Extremely lucky, indeed !

   Lance called Langley and informed them of his needs.  They told him
they'd get right back to him.  It was ten minutes before the link was set
up and they called him back.  Lance set up his laptop and typed in the
required url.  There were some navy assets off the coast of Mexico that
were relaying their data to Langley and it was now appearing on Lance's
laptop.

   All tracks in the area were identified with numbers.  The "Viper" was
number thirteen.  Unlucky for you, Tamarack, Lance thought.  Culican's
fishing boats were numbers eight and nine.  He selected one of the fishing
boats and the "Viper." The computer spit out time, distance and heading to
the target.  Wide open it was a five hour intercept.  That would put it
around mid-day.

   *****

   The fishing boats were drifting in calm seas within sight of the Baja,
some twenty-five miles away.  Most of the men were eating and drinking. 
Some were still sea sick after the sprint across the gulf of California. 
They had filled both boat's fuel tanks, using the plastic containers, that
were now floating, empty, as a small colony several hundred feet from the
boats.

   The leader was on the SAT link with Culican.  He was writing down
instructions.  The captain, who'd been sleeping down below, was being
escorted to the bridge.  They confered.  The captain took the sheet of
paper and stepped to the wheel.  In just minutes the rumble of the engines
shattered the silence.  The other boat started up and they idled away to
the south.  Ten minutes later they were full out across open ocean as they
headed for the kill.

   *****

   I woke with a start.  I was cold.  Erin had rolled away from me and
taken the blanket with her.  I looked at my watch.  Eleven hundred hours. I
felt rested.  If they were going to catch us, it was going to be in the
next six hours or so.  I slipped on some jeans and my blue tennies.  A dark
sweat shirt went on over my "T" shirt.

   I enter the galley and found Yachtsman eating with Amanda.  I sat and
made a ham and cheese sandwich with lots of mayo.  I drank a can of coke.
Yachtsman brought me up to date on our position.

   "You know today's the day." I told them.

   "We're ready, Malibu." Amanda returned.  I wasn't quite so sure.

   "Willy, I've rigged an eagle's nest on the mast.  Amanda can shimmy up
there and spot for Micky." Yachtsman told me.

   "You can do this ?" I asked.  Amanda was nodding while chewing.

   "She's been up and down twice, no sweat." Yachtsman assured me.

   I took the sandwich and coke with me when I climbed to the upper deck.
The solar panels were angled directly toward the very bright sun light. 
Jill was alone at the helm and we were making a smooth line between about
eight to ten foot swells.  The wind was hard out of the north, being pushed
down by a strong high pressure system out over the northern Pacific.  In
another day we'd catch the back side of the high and be making a good
twenty knots.

   I sat with her and fiddled with the GPS for a while.  If they headed off
toward Baja and I was pretty sure they did.  Then they'd be north of us. 
How far ?  Hard to tell but I felt it would be sometime this afternoon.  It
was coming up on twelve hundred hours.

   *****

   The fishing boats were going all out.  The ride was rough in the open
ocean as they plowed through the swells that were running in their
direction.  They were spread about three miles apart.  Both their radars
were in the sweep mode and looking out in front of them.  The leader was
now constantly on the SAT link with Culican.  The target was but an hour
away.  Some of the men were still sick.  They were puking off the rear
decking.  They only numbered four or so.  The rest were eager to catch the
Americans.  But all of them were in shirt sleaves and it was starting to
get quite cold out in the open ocean.

   *****

   We went to battle stations at thirteen hundred hours.  Everyone was
awake and drinking cokes.  I was smoking weed.  The good shit.  Can't ever
tell how these things might turn out.  In the past I've been extremely
lucky.  But that usually indicates advanced planning.  This time not so
much.  Erin and I were working with a good team, though, and sometimes that
will make the difference.

   Yachtsman and Jill were at the helm, the rest of us scattered around the
boat topside.  The solar panels had been stowed below.  The covers were off
the electric motors.  We were ready when Yachtsman called, "Here they come.
Jill, come about on your signal, heading south." Jill was already up and
sprinting for the boom.  "Rig the spinaker, baby.  Let's give'em a run."
The boat was already coming about and Jill was forcing the boom out away
from the boat.  She rushed forward and got the spinaker set.  The speed of
the boat increased markedly.  We were now putting a thirty knot breeze with
gusts to forty or so at our back.

   I made my way back to the helm.  One target on the very edge of the
scope.  Twenty miles out.  "If he doesn't paint us and heads off to the
southwest, I think I can run with him for a while.  If they get within ten
miles, we'll rig the electric motors and fight it out.  I've got some
tricks up my sleave too, Malibu.  Take the helm." Yachtsman got up and
headed below.  Most everyone was clustered around the helm, looking at the
radar picture.

   The target was not getting any closer and appeared to be moving from our
seven o'clock to our six o'clock.  Only time would tell but we were really
hauling ass as we sailed with the wind, riding up and over the swells.  The
ride wasn't smooth and we were all wearing belts around our waists that
tied us to the boat while at battle stations.

   Yachtsman was lugging a couple of tubes toward the bow.  They almost
looked like small cannons.  Jill came back and sat with me as I steered
south.  "We only have enough marbles for eight rounds but the effect is
very impressive.  And Yachtsman is pretty good with math.  It's kind of
like a mortar.  Good out to about a mile."

   "You're shittin' me !" I exclaimed.

   "I wouldn't do that, Willy.  Yachtsman and I play for keeps." Jill took
the helm from me and I went forward to take a look at this mortar of
Yachtsman's.  It was a pretty neat contraption and Yachtsman had multiple
angles marked off.  He told me he could rain marbles up to a mile out.  The
pattern was about twenty feet across.

   We waited.  Jill kept updating our persuer.  He slowly disappeard from
the radar scope but was still behind us.  Everyone was tense.

   *****

   Culican was telling them to turn to the south.  The target was twenty
two miles south of them.  The target was also traveling much faster, close
to twenty knots.  The fishing boats pushed it up and were tearing up the
swells as they headed south at thirty-five knots.  Their leader was up on
the bridge watching the radar presentation.  It was a long few minutes but
there it was.  A single target off the nose, twenty miles out.

   He called down to the squad leaders and told them to deploy their men.
Three men took their weapons forward and sat of the bow of the boat as it
rode the swells up and down.  In just a few moments it was evident that
they couldn't remian there while the boat was plowing through the ocean. 
They headed back to the stern.  They were all anxious as it was much
rougher than they imagined and they were all freezing their asses off, some
wearing shorts and shirt sleaves.

   The leader was bored, watching the radar presentation.  He wanted sight
of them.  He wanted this captain to drive circles around their boat while
his men filled it with holes.  He wanted to watch them sink and then shoot
the survivors.  He anticipated telling Culican that they were finished,
resting on the bottom of the ocean, fish food.  He was getting excited for
the kill.  So were his men.  He used binoculars to look forward through the
plexiglass wind shield.

   *****

   "Here they come and there's two of them.  They're showing about
thirty-five knots.  Makes thirty-five minutes to intercept.  We'll change
over in twelve minutes.  Everyone take a piss." Yachtsman called through
the intercom.

   We had four AKs and Micky's long rifle.  He was firing a big game load
with a slug that would kill an elephant and claimed he could touch them a
mile and a half away.  I wasn't sure if this was possible in the conditions
we were encountering.

   I was sitting with Yachtsman when we changed over.  Yachtsman came about
and fluttered the sails.  Jill had them lowered in under a minute.  Amanda,
Micky and Erin were collecting the canvas and stowing it.  Yachtsman and I
lowered the electric motors and three minutes after fluttering the sails we
were accelerting up through five knots.  Battery power was over ninety-five
percent.

   Work was still being done on the deck.  Amanda was climbing up the mast
and strapping herself to the eagles nest.  A good pair of binoculars were
hanging from her neck.  Micky had constructed what he called a window sill.
It was a padded cross piece, "L shapped and tied to the main mast.  He
could rest the rifle on the cross piece to fire.  Well, we'd see how that
worked out !?

   Chapter Eighty-seven

   "Eagle's nest has a talley-ho on the leader.  He's about our four
o'clock.  Got the trailer now.  Got'em both." Amanda informed us through
the intercom.

   "They're inside two miles and still moving over thirty knots." Yatchsman
returned.  The "Viper" was traveling at just ten knots.  We had just come
to a westerly heading and were sliding up and down good eight foot swells.
When they started to come after us, they dropped into a leader, trailer
formation.

   "Sniper's got a talley-ho." Micky was using a three round clip.  There
were five of them in his jacket pocket and Erin was sitting cross legged by
the mast to re-load as required.

   The retort of the rifle was loud.  I looked back at Micky.  Another loud
retort.  Then another.  He was reloading.  Amanda called into her mic. 
"Two splashes seen, just short and to the right of the boat."

   Micky was sighting again.  Another loud bang, followed in close
succession by two more.  Micky was re-loading.  Erin was filling the clip
with new loads.  Amanda again, her voice high pitched.  "You hit the deck,
Sniper !  Scared the shit out of them.  Blew wood up in the air !  I can
see the hole from here !"

   *****

   Slivers of wood flew over the wind shield.  The captain heard the sound
of the slug ripping into his ship and saw the hole in the forward decking.
What the fuck was he doing here ?!  They were still a mile away and could
easily see their quarry rising and falling in open ocean.  But it wasn't a
sail boat.  Or it didn't look like one.  Just one mast with a lookout at
the top and no sail.  It was moving very slowly and the sea was rougher
than shit out here.

   Moments later the plexiglass of the wind shield exploded into fragments
and flew into the air.  One of the men was blown off the bridge back to the
rear of the boat.  The captain looked back and found the leader of this
band of men bleeding profusely from the chest.  He wasn't moving.  The wind
through the blown out wind shield was fierce.  The Captain pulled the
throttle back and the fishing boat slowed considerably.

   The blast of wind coming across the bridge dropped off dramaticly when
the boat slowed to about ten knots.  They were still about a mile out.  The
men were all congregating at the rear of the boat, many leaning over the
leader.  The other boat was approaching quickly.  It started to slow as it
came along side.

   *****

   "Okay, sniper !  You've blown out the windshield of the lead boat. 
They're slowing down." Another three retorts sounded in rapid succession.
"Oh !  Fuck !  Sniper, you've hit the guy driving the boat !" Amanda's
voice was high pitched again.  Micky was firing at will.  Erin had a hard
time keeping him in full clips.

   "Bang...Bang...Bang !" Micky kept firing.  Amanda kept up a chatter
about where the rounds were going.  He'd started firing at the trailer as
it approacvhed the leader.  The captain of the trailing boat was smart
enough to duck down below the bridge once he realized that someone was
shooting at them.  But still the rounds from Micky's long rifle blew out
his wind shield and put several rounds into the bridge area, destroying his
navigation equiptment.

   Yachtsman was sitting on the bow with the tubes settled between his
legs. He dropped a charge down the pipe and then funneled thirty marbles
down the shaft.  The explosion was mutted but the marbles flew out of the
tube and disappeard.  Amanda called out several moments later.

   "Oh !  Wow !  You hit the trailer, Yachtsman !" Again her voice was high
pitched.  Yachtsman was firing rapidly now and Micky was still sending
rounds their way.  It didn't last more than ten minutes or so.  They were
sitting ducks when they slowed down and Micky kept the rounds coming.  Why
they didn't turn away from us is beyond me !?

   On Yachtsman's command, Jill turned the "Viper" toward them.  Erin and I
moved forward on the decking and Amanda was sliding down the mast. 
Yachtsman joined us and we started raining seven point six two on them. 
The closer we got the more effective it was and soon the boats were dead in
the water.  Micky was still blowing big chunks out of the boats at the
water line.  The AKs were turning their decks into kill zones.

   There had been sporadic fire from the fishing boats early on but Micky
kept blowing off the heads of guys who were firing.  We were now firing at
will from a little over a hundred yards out and one of the boats was
starting to sink.  Yachtsman gave the command.

   "Knock it off.  Knock it off.  Jill come about.  Steer two seven zero.
Prepare to set sail, people."

   My AK was hot to the touch.  Jill had the "Viper" turning on a dime with
the assymetrical thrust of the electric motors.  Micky and Amanda already
had the sails out and were rigging.  Yachtsman was starting up the mast
with the lead.  The sinking fishing boat was about half way under.  The
other boat was still moving and taking aboard the survivors.  They wouldn't
be following us, that's for sure.

   *****

   Lance Hamilton got the call a little before midnight.  He was in bed,
asleep, when his phone sounded.  It was Culican.  He answered, confidant
they would be telling him that Tamarack was a dead man.  He knew they
weren't going to bring him back.  They were going to sink the "Viper" and
kill all those aboard, probably rape the women.  These men were out for
blood.

   As he listened he felt the prickle of sweat start to form on his skin.
Culican hadn't heard from their boats since they called, saying they
sighted the sailing vessle and were about to attack.  That was about one
forty-five.  Lance shut down his link at two o'clock when the targets were
within a mile of each other.  He didn't want any part of what was going to
happen.

   Lance questioned them for a few minutes but they knew nothing.  He told
them he would get them some pictures as soon as possible.  He could promise
nothing else.  The naval asset was just passing through and no longer
available.  And where was Tamarack heading ?  He had to assume that the
"Viper" escaped.  Some how it out maneuvered two powerful sport fishing
boats ?  Sunk them !?  What kind of weapons did they have on board ?!

   Lance terminated his call with Culican and phoned headquarters.  He
talked with them for twenty minutes before he went back to bed.  Nothing
would show up until tomorrow.  What a disaster this became.  Fucking
Tamarack !

   *****

   The "Viper" had sailed for three days since the encounter with the sport
fishing boats.  In those three days not a target had appeared on the radar.
Yachtsman said they were really off the reservation, heading directly west.

   I was below with Amanda.  She was naked as a jay bird and bouncing up
and down on my hardon.  Her breasts were taunt, small brown areolae with
erect nipples.  She was chanting, "Fuck !" over and over again.  I wiggled
a finger up her ass and she doubled her effort.  I was just about there
when she stopped bouncing and started grinding her cunt around on my pubic
bone.  I started going off, pumping up into her.  She'd stopped chanting.

   "Oooohh !  Willeeee !  I'm cuuuming !" I kept pumping cock in and out of
her.  She came to rest on my lap and leaned against me.  Amanda had become
a nymphomaniac since we stopped the fishing boats.  She'd been a fuck toy
ever since, begging for cock all the time.  I kind of enjoyed it.  She
rolled off me and headed for the shower.  Our fresh water supply was
starting to diminish quite rapidly.

   We were turning for the coast at night fall tonight.  Yachtsman was sure
that we were clear.  We'd traveled almost seven hundred miles since we met
the fishing boats.  I was antsy to get back to the coast.  We couldn't
survive forever out here and there was no place to reprovision unless we
headed for Hawaii.  Plus I was running out of weed !  Down to a half pound
or so !  Emergency fuel !

   Did I believe they wanted me enough to send in some super spook guys and
grease us out here ?  No, I didn't think so and neither did anyone else. 
This wasn't the free fire zones of Afghanistan.  No, they'd follow us with
the satellite and then nab us when we hit the U.S.A.  I'd have to come up
with a little rat fuck for them.

   Erin was at the helm when I climbed upstairs.  We were making about
twelve knots in a moderate breeze.  Jill was sun bathing naked on the
forward deck.  The solar cells were deployed and we were starting to
desalinate some water to replenish our bathing supply.  I sat with Erin at
the helm and ran a few ideas through her.

   A few minutes later Micky climbed topside.  He shot the shit with Erin
and I for a few minutes before he noticed that Jill was naked.  He wandered
forward and dropped his trunks before joining her.  It wasn't a minute or
so before they were going sixty-nine, Jill's head bobbing over that horse
cock of Micky's and his head buried between the cheeks of her ass.  I
started getting a hardon.  Yea, Erin encouraged it.  This sailing is kind
of cool.

   [continued in]

   "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack"

   Part Thirty
   "To Die For" 

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