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Eliston X. 'Ex' Gaulfre
Rewdius@gmail.com
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Mermaids_4.txt
Mermaids Part 4: Abbie's Birthday, Nasty Uncle Kyle, A Storm at Sea
and Washing Up On Shore.
M/g6 M/g12 M/g10
Cons, Rom, Coer, Pett, Extr Pedo, Oral, Anal, Pedo, 1st, Piv, ScFi
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Sailing to the South Pacific was supposed to be relaxing and guilt free.
It wasn't!
Phillip DeMarcrisco thought that by isolating himself on his fairly new
sailboat in the middle of the ocean, he might be able to contend with
the guilt that wracked his mind and also prevent him from repeating what
he knew to be considered immoral and illegal with any other lovely
little angels. What Phillip didn't count on was someone finding HIM as
he drifted far out to sea, listening to his satellite radio, a
continuous stream of his favorite uninterrupted music affecting what his
young and unlikely visitor did for him.
Preface
Like all fantasies, this one involves activities that could NOT possibly
befall any one individual, least likely the author. The following work
chronicles the fictional life of a middle thirties man that decides to
go on a solitary journey on his sailboat and is plagued by the memories
of something that he did with his lovely ten year old niece.
It is inconceivable that a place so isolated in the middle of the South
Pacific would be so full of passion and sexual curiosity, so as this
story is read, keep in mind that fortune smiles on most of us but only
briefly and maybe only once in our lives, except for an unlikely single
guy who never knew his tortured mind might finally gain comfort and
relief after months alone at sea.
Phillip has to contend with the misconduct of his past and portrays the
demeanor of a person that considers what he did as horribly evil, his
partner not completely aware of the full damage that might have been
caused. Ironically, he is bestowed more than his fair share of
opportunities for sexual pleasure from what he and others had assumed
were nothing more than wild fantasies and mysterious superstition.
After he thinks he may have lost his grasp on reality, he concedes to
his fantasies and is willing to take advantage of and share in so many
wondrous gifts and yet is still quite capable of some restraint and
boundless kindness.
Enjoy!
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It was by accident that I was on board my boat the next day checking all
my electronic gear when I saw what the date was.
It was my niece Abigail's birthday!
She was now eleven years old. Two more and she'd finally be a teenager.
I immediately thought of all the boys that would have seen and maybe
even touched her lovely little breasts by now. There may have even been
a lucky few or maybe only one that had gotten an opportunity to repeat
with her what I had, her tight hairless pussy being split while both of
their naked bodies convulsed and writhed around in somebody's bed.
I was drawn to the last night that we were together, naked, my blood
engorged dick as far into her tight cunny as it would go, her downward
thrusts only matched by my upward impaling gyrations. Her soft titties
were incredibly hungry for tactile stimulation, her nipples crying for
my lingual embrace, her whispered begging into one or both of my ears
for me to let this continue all night long.
Without realizing it, I was standing nude on board my boat with my dick
in my right hand and I was wanking off to the mental image of her naked
body. When I let go, I was fortunate to be facing the starboard side of
the cockpit, now aptly named, my goo landing in a helpless stream, half
on and half off the starboard gunwale of my boat.
I regained my senses, cleaned up after myself and decided it was time to
let another human being know I was still alive. It might not have been
the most thoroughly thought out plan, but I owed it to Abbie to send her
a birthday greeting. At the very least, her getting a birthday present
of my e-mail message would brighten her day.
My computer fired up the first time without a hiccup, the auto-sat
locater directed to the Hughes communication satellite and my Internet
account still active. WOW! I guess direct billing was still working
and my banker was doing his job. Can't claim bankruptcy!
When I saw how many spam e-mails the automatic filters had deleted, I
almost fell back on my ass. A quick look at the index of discarded
messages produced almost ten seconds of scrolled titles, the screen
traveling from the most recent one to the oldest. After letting out a
genuine belly buster laugh at all the nameless and faceless women that
tried to offer me sex thought the Internet and all those off-shore
pharmacies urging me to purchase penis enlargement pills, I returned to
my regular mail and gazed at the screen. Before me was a much reduced
total number of legitimate messages, less than a full screen finally
being displayed.
There, before my excited eyes was a listing of the many messages sent
from none other than my little former-virgin lover.
Oh, Abbie!
She never stopped writing to me, even after her mom and dad tried to
convince her that something terrible must have happened to her naughty
uncle far out to sea without anyone knowing exactly what had transpired.
I saved her messages for last, wanting to remain clear headed for all
the other mundane and boring notes from my banker, real estate broker
and insurance agent. I'd take care of all my business first and then
read my family members' mail afterward.
The first thing I did was to check on my business, being held together
by a dear friend and loyal employee. I trusted him to take control of
my pride and joy as long as he protected it as if it was his own. After
reviewing my various bank accounts, business statements and quarterly
earnings, it seemed my decision to have him take an active role in my
affairs wasn't misplaced.
Mikael was a decent enough man, if not a little too proper. His desires
were nowhere near as furtive as mine now were, his attitude toward evil
and cruel pedophiles as intense as it was determined. If he only knew
what I had been doing on this tiny island, he'd find the fastest means
out here and want to rip my guts out with his bare hands.
A quick note to him to thank him for doing such a wonderful job during
my absence was penned, as well as another note to my CPA for a
significant increase in Mikael's pay. To make certain that my
intentions were followed, I used a carefully phrased line that was meant
for my CPA to recognize, a subtle password embedded along the way.
I also made certain to give my CPA explicit instructions to create trust
accounts for my two sisters and my darling niece, dividing about half of
my total worth among the three of them. When they got the news, it
would definitely make their day, Abbie about to get yet another great
birthday present.
Since I wasn't going to be returning anyway, I wouldn't be needing the
money. At least this way, it could be put to good use and enjoyed while
I was nestled on my tiny retreat far from any other person on my former
homeland. I had no intention of liquidating my assets, since I had so
many trusted and faithful employees, their futures now in my dirtied and
pedophilic hands.
If I had decided to close out all my business holdings, so many decent
and hard working people would be out in the cold and without a means to
support their families. Better that they had a strict man in control
that knew to act in my behalf than to take their chances with some
investor that would raid the candy store and leave the mess for the ICC,
FTC and FBI to figure out.
With all my business messages read and the important ones responded to,
it was now onto my family's notes. I felt a certain pang of fear as I
glanced over the list and saw a series of messages from both of my
lovely sisters, Sally and Judy.
My sisters were excited for me just after I stopped writing, their
messages detailing daily activities and longing for repeated weekends on
my sailboat wearing extremely little in front of their favorite and only
brother. They sounded much like they did before I left.
As more time went on without any return mail, their notes became less
revealing and more concerned. Then, they began to plead with me to
answer at least one so they would be reassured that I was still
somewhere safe and alive. Then fewer and fewer until finally, the only
notes I got were from my little naked angel, Abbie.
With all the other messages read and then saved or discarded, I opened
the first one from Abbie. She had begun writing it that last Sunday
night before her first day of school, but much more importantly, the
same day after we had been naked all night and had sex for hours until
almost noon. Instead of sending it right away, she'd waited until I
stopped writing to my family before she sent it to me, as if my absence
demanded something from her for me to respond.
I was spellbound by her eloquence and clarity of thought. Throughout
her note, she kept thanking me profusely for being so gentle, so tender
and yet so willing to teach her all about her body and mine. She spared
no emotion or description as it related to how her body felt now that
she knew what it was like to have sex and make love. It was more
revealing than I had hoped, her thoughts of me less like a child and her
pedophile uncle, and more like a hungry lover and her new older adult
teacher.
By the time the note was consumed, I was again hammering on my pecker
and begging to be back in bed with my darling little niece. As a
further commencement of her willingness for our relationship to
continue, at the bottom of her note she included a very clear high
resolution photographic image of herself . . . naked from head to toes!
That's all it took! I spewed spunk all over the worktable.
I kept zooming into her cunny and breasts for closer inspection over and
over as my cock tried its best to produce more examples of my love and
lust for her body. Damn, it felt so good to mentally fuck her fat
hairless pussy one last time.
I had to rest for almost ten minutes before I opened the second note.
It had been penned after that first note and saved so her letter to me
would encompass another whole week's worth of details and activities.
Each week, she'd keep me apprised of all the goings-on with the family,
her school, her friends and yes, even a few lucky guys that she'd talk
to at school. She kept reassuring me that her interests in 'those guys'
were completely platonic, her ambitions more toward her grades, dancing,
swimming and me! I felt both proud and humbled at the same time.
About the end of her school year, my sisters and their asshole husbands
kept trying to convince her, unsuccessfully I might add, that I was lost
at sea and that she should let me go, her favorite (and only single)
uncle now with her deceased grammas and grampas. Otherwise, I'd have
written much sooner and let everyone know I was okay.
Her notes took on a more desperate tone when summer started, urging me,
almost begging me to give her a sign that her belief that I was alive
wasn't unfounded. Up to that point, all of her messages were very
regular and orderly. Then, without explanation, her notes stopped for a
couple of weeks after that, no explanation given, until her next one was
penned.
She didn't sound nearly as cheerful as before, but also not as intent on
pleading for me to prove my existence. It was as if she was writing to
herself, logging entries in an online journal, blog or diary, describing
some of her daily activities as if she were referring to a twin sister.
It wasn't until her sixth note like this that I became aware of subtle
hints regarding an incident that sounded vaguely familiar.
She had been spending time at her aunt Sally's house during the first
few weeks of summer when she kept referring to someone watching her,
keeping tabs on her activities and making delicate suggestions regarding
when she should visit and how she should dress when she did.
It was one particularly warm weekend when my sisters decided to take a
four day holiday without the bothersome comments of their husbands that
Abbie was forced to stay with her Uncle Kyle, her dad needing to travel
out of town until midweek. She had grown so at ease around her Aunt
Sally's house that she fell into a bad habit of sunning herself in very
little and eventually when nobody was around, nothing at all.
At least she thought nobody was around that Saturday. Uncle Kyle had
made references to Sally and Abbie's mom Julie that he was going to be
working most of that day at his office and would let Abbie have the run
of the house. In fact, he waited until Abbie had fallen asleep on one
of the lounge chairs naked to make his presence known, her suntan lotion
spiked with a heavy dose of Rohipnol, a very popular date-rape drug he
bought from someone who had recently traveled to Mexico.
Without her knowledge until well after the event, he took movies and
still images of her naked body in every conceivable position, her arms
and legs positioned in very provocative poses and her sweetly hairless
pussy examined in tremendously incredible detail, her innocence and beauty
ripped from her upon the realization that he sold all of this data to
someone on the Internet for a rather sizable sum of money.
It was only after one of her friend's fathers found pictures of her on
the Internet that her entire community became aware of just how lovely
her naked body was. My darling little niece Abigail was absolutely
destroyed after that, her image no longer pure and her self worth set at
an all time low.
I cried buckets of tears as I read the note. My bastard brother-in-law
taking her innocence from her with image after image of her naked body,
her beautiful naked cunny now available for every pervert like me to
masturbate at for hours and hours, images of her sweet form now flying
around the world at the speed of light.
The end of this particularly disturbing note revealed just how dirty the
asshole was.
She knew what making love felt like, our coupling a tender and delicate
affair. When that dirty Saturday at her Uncle Kyle's was done, she felt
similar sensations within her cunny, but since she couldn't remember
anything that day, she didn't have enough evidence to accuse her uncle
of doing anything wrong.
Secretly, she was aware, painfully aware that her nasty Uncle Kyle had
raped her tender pussy and ass repeatedly. She didn't know for sure if
there were any pictures of his dirty deeds, but had no way of proving
what he had done because the prick had either used a rubber or had
taken the time to clean her out extremely well when he was finished
using her body.
I bawled like a baby for an hour after reading what had happened to my
darling little angel, my first little lover, my virgin princess, my
niece, Abbie. It wasn't until I collected my thoughts that I finished
reading the note.
She then informed me, much to my satisfaction, that dear Uncle Kyle had
been busted with a set of images of Abbie on his computer at work, his
empty head assuming that nobody would check on his private computer in
his office while he worked late night after night. The imbecile
actually thought he planned his activities carefully enough to encrypt
all the images and only pound his pope when nobody was around. Little
did he know that his hard drive was being monitored for suspicious
activity since nobody usually worked that late, his computer still
connected to the network while he logged each keystroke of his so called
'secret' password.
His wife and my older sister Sally was called into Kyle's manager's
office on a rather nondescript Thursday and told what the computer
security people had found as delicately as possible, a female Human
Resources manager spending a lot of time with her before the woman broke
the news. The H/R lady also had the decency to show only Abbie's face,
the rest of the image cropped. During this rather painful revelation,
my darling older sister demanded to see each and every one of the images
and even the three digital movies that her husband had taken of her
darling niece as he hammered into her naked and drug induced helpless
form with his cock.
During this rather disgusting movie review, only women H/R or security
people were present, wanting to preserve what little honor the young
girl and child's aunt might have remaining as the details of her niece's
sexual abuse was being played out on the computer screen. Sally was
able to confirm it was Kyle in the movies and the still digital
photographs, a characteristic mark on his cock revealing that his dick
had frequently and repeatedly been thrust as far into my younger
sister's daughter as far as it would go.
By Abbie's description, my older sister's demeanor was professional and
stoic, her aunt never losing her cool or flying off the handle
recklessly. Sally remained perfectly calm as each high-res still image
was displayed and all three movies observed, her acknowledgment to
continue until everything was shown.
All of the original images were destroyed with a government approved
wipe program and a digital signature sniffer program run to find if
there were any copies running around within the company network.
Much to their dismay, the company vice president and a small group of
disparate male employees were summoned to answer for ownership of and
even frequent manipulation of multiple images of my darling lover. Two
of them, one the vice president and one from the loading dock were
foolish enough to pay a thousand dollars each for all three movies.
Kyle was the first one to be fired and then handed over to the local
authorities, followed by each of the other perverts until a thorough in
house cleaning was complete.
This restored a little of Abbie's dignity, but she was now a wounded
cygnet, her soul damaged permanently, her image tarnished, even if she
was an involuntary participant. My older sister received a financial
settlement from Kyle's company, his family and his lawyer, and Abbie
also got a college trust fund to help defray any of her pain from what
Kyle had done. It did little to make any of my girls feel better,
though, the damage now done and Abbie no longer the innocent little
eleven year old. I could only imagine what Abbie's dad must have been
thinking and how he felt about surrendering his daughter's care to his
bastard brother-in-law. I'm sure he would have liked to visit with my
prick former brother-in-law for a while with a baseball bat or a red-hot
poker.
That was the last note I had received from Abbie, almost a month old by
this time. Now I was cursing my poor judgment at not letting my family,
but especially my darling little angel know that I was still alive and
well, just guilt ridden and ashamed. At the very least, when I was
having my disgusting ways with my tender partner, I had the decency to
make what we had shared consensual and enjoyable, not despicable and
disgusting or without her permission and participation.
I also resisted the temptation to take lots of photos of my naked ten
year old virgin lover lest I find myself being visited by lots of men
wearing all black uniforms. Even though I was hurt by Abbie having been
raped by her Uncle Kyle, I secretly held a small desire to see what all
those photographs and movies looked like.
After wrestling with my conscience for about an hour, I couldn't resist
the temptation and began to surf for what I knew would cause me untold
mountains of pain. Thankfully, none of my searches proved fruitful.
If I had been back in Texas instead of out on my sailboat in the middle
of the South Pacific, none of this would ever have happened. I cussed
myself and lambasted my stupid pride for abandoning my family but
especially Abbie. If I had been a man, a real man, I would have stayed
and taken responsibility for my actions, especially the illegal ones.
Feeling embittered, I checked and rechecked for any further messages
from my former virgin lover, but no more had been sent. I was more
heartbroken than angry, my asshole brother-in-law getting what he
deserved by having to spend the next twenty five years as a permanent
resident of the Texas Criminal Justice System.
It wasn't written in her last note, but I was certain by this time that
she might succumb to the pressures of her new found ignominy and take
her own life in shame. I needed to let her know that I was still alive
and that I had finally become aware of what had happened to her, but
what was I supposed to say? How was I to communicate with a little
eleven year old girl that I had made love to a year before, her
virginity lost at my own hands but with loving intent? What could I say
to her without associating myself with what Kyle had done while she was
in a drug induced stupor and unable to enjoy what he did to and with
her lovely young body?
I had impaled her with my foul penis, just as he had done with his. The
only difference to her about what we had done was only the actual
circumstances of the event, my approach being a more delicate and tender
gesture of love, education and compassion, Kyle's being a more sordid
and vulgar violation of her sanctity.
It took me two hours to type the first sentence. I finished the note
three days later.
When I finally hit the 'send' key, I readied myself for years of shame
and public rage. I knew what I had done was wrong and no less immoral
or loathsome than what Kyle had done. At the very least, the few words
that I sent to my niece, hoping she was alive to receive them, were an
admission of guilt and shame, begging for her forgiveness and willing to
accept whatever punishment she and the rest of society would mete out.
[My Dearest Abbie.]
[ ]
[I wish I had been there to protect you and wish you a happy eleventh]
[birthday. I will do whatever you ask of me and will take full and]
[complete responsibility for what I have done.]
[ ]
[With sincere love, your Uncle Phillip.]
With all my energy gone, I shut my computer off, closed up my cabin and
headed back to shore. Harold seemed to sense how badly I felt and said
nothing to me as I approached. He was unusually quiet and made no
attempt to lambaste me at having left him on shore for so many days and
nights. It must have been written all over my face and body. I was so
ashamed for what I had done that even a Polynesian ground nesting parrot
could tell I was lower than fish crap.
Without any real forethought, I knew what I needed to do. I was
responsible for having destroyed my niece's life, having taken her
virginity from her in a careless act of sexual passion and wanton lust.
Now it was up to me to answer for my crimes like my mindless asshole
brother-in-law had.
In my blind rage and tremendous guilt, I never even thought about the
lovely former virgins that I had defiled out here on my former island
hideaway, my need to answer for my crimes back in Texas blinding me to
the reality of my having fathered at least one and probably as many as
three children. It was foolish of me to ignore my own offspring and
lovely little half-human lovers, but my transgressions back in 'the real
world' seemed to draw me on.
I began to disassemble all of the structures I had built, wanting to
return this lovely little uncharted island to its former beauty,
carefully scattering each of the natural construction pieces to various
parts of the area. I removed any reference to my having been there,
save for the waste I had contributed to my open air bathroom at the
opposite end of the island from my fresh water supply.
In two days, it was finished. I even took the time to use some palm
fronds to whisk away every trace of our footprints that were far from
the cleansing effects of the waves and water, thinking of the lovely sea
creatures that I had also defiled while I was on this little hideaway in
the middle of nowhere only after everything had been disassembled. Each
of their tiny footprints were finally gone, the memory of their laughter
and sweet sexy moans to be embedded in my disgusting brain, nobody else
to know of our tender and immoral relationships.
I looked around my tiny former home of many months and couldn't help but
wish that I hadn't turned my computer on or looked at my GPS receiver.
With tear filled eyes, I sat down on the ground under one of Harold's
favorite coconut palms, lifted him to my shoulder and we shared our last
meal and talk.
"Harold, it's time buddy. I'm going back home . . . well, not really
home but more like prison! My life is done and there's no place for a
good looking and intelligent fellow such as you to be back there.
Besides, they don't let inmates have pets in most state prisons. We've
had a great time, you and me, and I know you're gonna be really lonely,
but I don't think you'd like living in my world. Believe me. This is a
much nicer place."
I set Harold to the ground with a larger-than-normal handful of sweet
coconut meat and got into my zodiac, pushing away from this sandy shore
for what I knew was the last time in my life. I couldn't even see when
I looked back, my eyes filled beyond brimming with tears.
Once he realized what I'd done, Harold squawked and cried the whole
time, his noises becoming so pitiful and desperate that I cried as I
hauled anchor and set sail. I could hear him crying out for almost two
nautical miles, the image of my tall mainsail slowly disappearing on the
horizon, away from a home that I had hoped to live on for the rest of my
natural days, but it was not to be!
I kept thinking about the three lovely sirens that I'd tempted from the
water and had incredibly enjoyable sex with, the three babies I'd helped
to create to be fatherless and never able to see what their daddy looked
or sounded like. My mind was so entrenched with how I was going to
explain myself to my younger sister and how I'd also violated my darling
niece like her brother-in-law had that I wasn't able to think beyond the
actions I took to make my way back toward Texas.
It was on the second night on my return leg to the good old USA on a
twenty six degree heel that I downloaded a Wefax infrared satellite
image of The South Pacific, my position clearly indicated by the
cross hairs on the flimsy paper image.
That's when I realized that I timed this trip wrong!
A huge low pressure cell was building and had the makings of a Southern
Hemisphere cyclone, called hurricanes on the other side of the equator.
I immediately used a quick set of calculations to determine which was
the best heading to reduce my chances of capsizing, turned my autohelm
toward the shortest distance between me and the safest or the least
threatening part of the storm and realized I had made a very stupid
blunder. My radar was already showing signs of the rain bands about a
two hundred fifty miles out, sparks popping all over the Eastern
horizon.
There really wasn't much I could do to avoid what was coming, even
returning to my tiny refuge now an impossible course of action, so I
battened down all the hatches, covers and holds, put on my foul weather
gear, grabbed my flare gun, my lumi-lights and spare water flask, tied
my jack line tight to my safety harness with the classic 'rabbit in the
hole' knot and decided now was the best time to check on any new
messages before I lost contact with the Hughes communication satellite.
My mast would be pitching so wildly after the taller waves hit that I
wouldn't be able to lock on in only a day or so.
I turned my computer on one more time, finally deciding to come clean to
my darling sisters after sending one last note to my former virginal
lover. There were only two messages ready for me. One from Abbie and
one from her mom, my younger sister Judy. Abbie's was going to be more
than difficult to read, so it would be last.
The note from Judy was filled with tremendous anticipation of my return,
her subjects ranging from excited jubilation upon her big brother's
arrival, to the eventual and rather painful discussion about her lovely
little girl. Apparently, Abbie hadn't told anyone about what we had
done and it was up to me to share the disgusting details.
I wrote a note to her immediately, letting her know that I was finally
on my way back and given good weather, I should be back in about two or
three months. I never did tell her about how I had also defiled her
daughter's body, the first man in the world to do so. I would have to
do that in person so Judy could beat me silly and wrest some
satisfaction from any pain that I felt. I hit 'send' and then nervously
selected Abbie's note.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My Dearest Uncle Phillip,
I'm so glad you're alright! I've missed you so much and have cried more
tears than I can imagine, fearful that you might never return to me.
I'm so happy that you're okay and hope to hear that you'll be coming
home very soon.
Please forgive me for being so hard on you when I visited you last year.
I never should have tried so hard to tease you by wanting to sunbathe
and swim naked. I can't imagine what you must have been thinking all
those times I walked around, danced, flirted and teased you mercilessly.
You must be made of solid steel to have been able to keep from doing the
kind of nasty stuff like Uncle Kyle did. Your self control is
unbelievable! I know what you're thinking right now and I want you to
know that I still love you very much. You've always been so sweet and
gentle to me and never took advantage of me even when I was in your arms
nekked as the day I was a little baby girl.
Mom knows that I made you put up with all my flirting and how many times
you let me go around your house and go swimming in the nude. She's not
mad at you, honest! She also knows that I snuck into your bed that
Saturday night when I was scared about growing up and feeling afraid. I
told her that I talked you into holding me in your arms all night when I
wasn't wearing any clothes, not even my panties. She knows I never
sleep like that at home and got really mad at me for making you put up
with my naughty teasing.
She grounded me for a month and took away my cell phone and computer
until she knows that I'm truly sorry for hurting you like that. She's
letting me write this note to you because she knows how much you love
me. She also thinks the reason you went away is because of what I did
to you, making you feel so excited and not being able to do anything
about it 'cause I'm just a little girl. You know I didn't mean to make
you feel bad and I hope when you were holding me in your arms that it
felt good for you.
I truly enjoyed all the things we did together that weekend. It was so
special to be with you, especially when I was right next to you in your
arms in bed. I hope you know what I want to say but since mom is
reading all my stuff now, I have to be careful so I don't say something
that she thinks might sound like I'm trying to tease you all over again
like I did that weekend. I just wish we could be together just like
that night so you could hold me when my body was shaking and I was
scared because of all the feelings that I told you I had real deep
inside me.
It was so wonderful for you to take the time to explain everything that
was happening to me and for you to be so gentle and be honest and not
get all freaky when I asked you all those silly questions. You know
what I mean, I think.
As soon as you get back, I'm gonna beg mom to let me come spend a whole
weekend with you so I can show you how much you mean to me and just how
tender all the stuff we did and talked about has helped me to grow up.
I really do love you millions, Uncle Phil. I hope you're not truly mad
at me for anything and I promise I'll make it all up to you as soon as
you get back. I promise I'll be good and not do anything like that with
any other guy until I'm old enough to know what it is I'm doing.
What Uncle Kyle did made it really rough on me around here for a long
time. I'll never be able to forgive him for raping me and taking all
those pictures and movies of me when he drugged me and I was naked.
People see me and point when they don't think I can see, but I know what
they're saying. It doesn't matter 'cause I know I didn't do anything
wrong or encourage him to do all that stuff to me. I just got careless
'cause I thought I was safe at his house like I always was at yours.
I wish you were here right now Uncle Phil, 'cause I really need one of
your special hugs. It was so nice for you to tickle me and make me feel
good inside that night. I tickle myself almost everyday just like you
did just so I can remember how it felt.
Even though you weren't supposed to, I still liked it when you let me
kiss you too. (I just hope mom doesn't get all freaked out when she
reads THAT!)
Oh yeah. Thanks for the kew-wulll birthday present! Now my mom and dad
won't have to worry about saving up enough money for me to go to
college. That trust fund account means more to me than you'll ever
really know. I know not to get all carried away with how much money is
in my trust account and will keep studying and doing all the things that
have always made you proud of me.
Hurry home to me. Please let me know you got this note so I can look
forward to seeing you again real soon. Mom always knew you had a heart
of gold and the will of a saint.
I just wish more guys were like you. I'd want to marry a guy just like
you, unless I can talk you into marrying me first!
I love you Uncle Phillip.
Your Little Angel Baby Girl, Abbie.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
MY GOSH! She has completely accepted what we did that night just as I
had hoped. It was just as good for her as it was for me! And she still
likes to diddle her clitty like I showed her. It was so much fun to
tongue her until her legs were jumping all over the place and her
insides were tingling with all those wonderful new feelings.
Oh my Little Angel Baby Girl! I never realized just how much you
remembered from that wonderful night. I thought you were asleep after I
fucked you almost unconscious when I gave you that nickname. You were a
lot more aware of all those wonderful feelings and all the things I said
after we made love all those hours and hours. I was certain that you'd
hate me forever after that night. Especially after what your prick
Uncle Kyle did to you.
I'll wait for you, Angel. I really will. I don't care where we have to
move to and how many times we have to make up a new story. I will marry
you. I just can't wait to tell you in person. Now, how the Hell do I
tell you this without my darling little sister finding out?
Here goes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
To My Dearest Little Angel Baby Girl, Abbie,
I'm on my way to be with you right now!
I'm far in the South Pacific ocean and won't be able to see you until
after your next school year starts. Hopefully, I'll make it back in
time so you can come over and we can go swimming before it gets cold.
This time, your mom will most likely want to chaperon ME! Gotta watch
out for a sexy little devil like YOU!
In the meantime, you have my permission to drag your mom and aunt with
you to my place and have a girls' weekend away by yourselves. Call the
pizza guy and even that really nice deli down the road from my place and
order whatever you all want. It's on me! Make sure you call Carl
Haptkinson at the brokerage office before you show up and tell him that
I gave you authorization to make whatever charges against my account
you'd like. Use the password 'DogRock' and he'll know it's legit!
Enjoy yourselves, run around the house and swim just as nekked as the
days you were all born, certain in the knowledge that nobody will
disturb you. Just be glad I'm not there because I'm sure I'd be peeking
more than just a little.
Rest assured that you'll find the perfect guy for you after all. I just
hope I can find a perfect little angel like the one I left before I took
off on my stupid sailing trip.
I think about tickling you all the time, just like when I made you
squirm and wiggle until you couldn't stand it anymore and begged me to
stop. You can look forward to LOTS of tickles REAL soon! I promise
I'll tickle you everyday if you'll let me. Just seeing you almost cry
and grab my hands and face so I can stop makes me want to do it to you
until you're old enough to have babies of your own so I can do it to
them too.
I'll send you a short note everyday so you can track my progress.
By the way, I'm having to detour a little since I just found out there's
a nasty storm brewing Northeast of me. It may take a little longer for
me to get back, but I'll be thinking of you the whole time. I've never
been more anxious to get home than right now.
Your pretty picture keeps me thinking of you everyday and I can't wait
until I get to see that lovely smile and pretty form in person.
Be good, listen to your mom and dad and think of me if it makes you feel
good inside.
With all the love in my heart,
YOUR Uncle Phillip.
<send>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I was so wrapped up in the message I was writing to my darling little
sexual neophyte that time seemed to slip by. I don't know how many
times I wrote and rewrote the message, but by the time I hit the 'send'
button, it was already six hours later. The storm was bearing down on
my position and I needed to make yet another course change so I could
keep from getting hammered from my starboard quarter.
It was now quite evident that I wasn't going to be able to outrun the
damn storm, so I went below, ate as much as I could, drank more than I
should have and retrieved my EPIRB from its storage locker. When all
else failed, I would toss it overboard and hope that it stayed close
enough to my boat that the New Zealand or Australian Coast Guard would
be able to find me within one or two days.
I was tempted to just toss it in right then but didn't want to endanger
other peoples' lives at my expense. I was fool stupid enough to be out
in the middle of the ocean at the gaping maw of a monster cyclone. No
sense in risking anyone else's life by having them come chase after me
in the middle of Sailors' Hell.
When the swells started reaching twenty feet and the caps were high
enough to spray the middle of my mainsail without even coming back down
to the deck, I knew I was in for a rough ride.
The lightning grew more intense and I was tempted to drop my mainsail
and jib, step my mast or even worse, cut the rigging and let everything
fall to the deck. The only thing I'd be able to do then would be to
hunker down for one Hell of an 'E-Ticket' ride.
Since the St. Elmo's fire was dancing along the mast guys and all the
metal rigging like a fireworks display, it got so difficult to touch
anything metal that more than once I had to just hang on like the devil
and continuously get zapped if I wanted to maintain some semblance of
control.
With as much of my removable equipment and rigging stowed below deck,
including my autohelm, radar and satellite dish, the only thing I could
do now was to keep my boat pointed into each wave, make sure the sails
didn't luff and then fill with a sudden gust. Nothing like sending my
mast through the bottom of the hull with a forty ton 'SNAP' from an
unexpected wind direction change. Maybe keeping my sails flying wasn't
a good idea after all. I'd only find out later.
When the free end of the mainsheet was ripped from my hand and almost
whipped me across the front of my face, I knew I was in over my head.
Sending a 'mayday' is like admitting defeat, but at this point, living
with defeat is much better than dying proud!
The EPIRB went into the drink, the high intensity strobe fighting to
keep up with each of the lightning strikes, as if it was trying to outdo
each flash with one of its own. The audible 'beep' it generated was
somehow reassuring, as if I knew there was someone close by ready to
snatch me from the jaws of death. I also took the precaution to pull
the auto distress lanyard from my radio set, a predetermined message
going out on the marine frequency as long as there was battery power and
a length of wire at least three feet long. I just hoped my pretty rig
didn't capsize.
At one moment, I was atop a forty footer with the wind catching the
mainsail hard enough to wrench me almost sixty degrees over, pulling me
forward and down the crest. The next moment I was in the trough,
looking up a wall of water that made a Houston skyscraper seem rather
tame and insignificant. What I hadn't expected was to see the masthead
light pointed toward the top of the next wave, my mast now completely
horizontal. I hadn't been in the predicament for more than thirty
minutes when I knew I was a goner.
The wind kept changing directions every time I topped a wave, my state
of the art mast finally snapping about five feet above the boom with a
horribly disgusting crunch. Both sails came down over the cockpit and
the top of the mast almost on my skull. I was finally able to wrestle
the headstay, backstay, shrouds and spreader, the standing rigging and
both sails under my feet as my boat wrenched around under me like a
two-ton wild bronco. How the boom or mast missed me as it came crashing
to the deck, I'll never know!
There was a significant reduction in St. Elmo's fire, to be immediately
replaced with the frequent and mind numbing bolts of lightning popping
all around the boat. One hit so close I could feel my muscles twitch
for about five minutes. I even saw a large sailfish go by floating on
its side that was missing its head, apparently hit square between the
eyes. It would have been a beautiful trophy on my wall back home, its
upper sail tall and perfect. Having no head, it wouldn't do much for my
reputation.
I tried to think of anything and everything except what was happening
around me, even imagining myself with Shirenda in that quiet cove, her
ten year old body drunk with sex and my cock thrust firmly between her
tight thighs, her body wracked with more stimulation than her mind could
comprehend. I tried to imagine her naked on top of me, her hips
thrusting hard into mine with her mouth open, her eyes closed and her
back arched.
I could almost see her walking on the beach in front of me, naked, her
long hair being whipped around her chubby body by the gentle breezes,
her plump tanned round ass jiggling up and down with each of her short
steps, the distinct separation between her legs when she stood still
drawing my eyes toward that one sacred place that I craved with intense
lust, my ten year old lover carefully examined something at her feet as
I ogled her naked sex.
Then Shureese popped into my perverted mind, her fat cunny and how sweet
she tasted, her baby-fat filled little mounds of breast tissue and the
way she let me fondle and molest her growing titty buds when she first
sat down on my lap when she tried to touch Harold. Damn, that little
girl could fuck! She was even more insatiable than Shirenda, a six year
old more than I might be able to handle than the older one.
Poor Harold! I truly felt sorry for my banana buddy. This storm was
big enough that even his tiny island would get hammered, just like I was
right now. His only protection would be to hunker down and hang on
toward the leeward side of the island until the worst of it passed.
Hold on little buddy. I hope you make it.
It was only then that I realized how significant my loss was now that
I'd abandoned my most recent sexual partners, most likely now three
young mothers. I felt bad for lots of reasons, leaving the once lovely
temporary home I'd come to love and three darling little angels that
were going to have to raise my bastard children without me. This trip
was getting worse by the hour.
A bright flash hit the water to port less than . . . HELL . . . fucking
damn close!
That's when I realized I was about to pay for both Kyle's and my crimes
against all the little girls that we had been molesting put together.
When I could see through the blinding rain, I caught sight of what was
left of my EPIRB, drifting in about twenty pieces for a few seconds
before it headed to Davey's Locker, the deep six accepting yet another
vestige of man's follies.
I was finally able to wrestle the remainder of the mainsail and part of
the jib down under my feet as I crested a series of fairly evenly spaced
waves. The high-tech Dacron fabric was a jumble of stiff plastic,
making it exceedingly difficult to move around behind the wheel. It
wasn't until I was able to clear enough of the cockpit so I could
struggle to keep my pretty little sailboat, or what was being torn
asunder one piece at a time, headed relatively into each wave before it
broke over the bow. Each of the scuppers along the deck looked like
they were gagging from the tons of seawater flooding in from each wave,
the area under my feet often filled with twelve inches of what was
supposed to be on the outside of the hull.
A strange thought crossed my mind for a moment, from when I was trying
to build my own sailboat-swimming pool for Shirenda. What I had tried
so creatively to do back then was being taken care of for me my
thousands of gallons of seawater and tall waves. I felt pretty humbled
at that point.
I don't know how long I fought to keep control, but after I saw what
looked like two sunrises or sunsets, or for that matter the same fucking
one twice, I was beat and about to surrender to the sirens of the deep.
Knowing I had little more than a few minutes of life left, it was time I
made my peace with my Maker, in whatever language I could create with
all the wind, waves and crunching of my formerly pretty sailboat.
I stood as tall as I could, openly apologized to Abbie, Shirenda,
Shureese and the still unnamed older teenager for all the nasty things I
did to them, made my peace with God and smiled. If I was going to die
in the middle of a storm in the South Pacific, I was going to go out
like a man, my balls intact, my soul clear and my eyes wide open.
< < < C-R-A-C-K > > >
A bolt of lightning . . . . . . . .
The next thing I remember, I was laying face up next to the transom
bulkhead half in and half out of the water in the cockpit, a sharp pain
coming from my head and along my left side. I don't know why I did it
before anything else, but I instinctively reached for my cock and balls
with my right hand.
Still there!
I jumped up immediately and thrust my face skyward, pelted by sheets of
rain and the constant spray of salt water, my fist aimed at Heaven and
my teeth clenched.
"Fuck you for trying to take me out! You can't kill me you fucking
bastard! For all the injustices that you allow to happen all over this
damn world, fuck you! Go ahead! Kill me! If you think it will make
this pitiful little world any better, then go ahead! Take your fucking
best shot!"
In less than ten seconds, a series of about two dozen lightning strikes
danced around me and what was left of my very expensive toy. All I
could do was stand as tall as I could, smile and cuss. I did my best to
withstand the pain, but passed out in the middle of trying to belittle
God.
When I woke up next time, my boat was washed up on a reef, huge waves
crashing against the port side, pushing me further and further into the
sharp coral. The only thing keeping me from going over was the length
of my carbon fiber reinforced lead-filled stainless steel keel, the
sound of crunching and scraping much like a whole series of old cars
being ground up at a metal reclamation yard.
I hung on and waited until the vehicle came to a complete stop at the
gate, my seat back and tray table in their upright and locked positions.
I didn't last quite as long this time and fainted from the intense pain
once again.
It was sometime during a clear cloudless sunrise that I regained my
wits, my head still hurting but my left side still attached, my hand and
foot responding to conscious stimulus at last. My boat was now half
submerged on a beach, water up to the starboard gunwale bench and sand
under my feet. When I looked forward, I could tell that at least a FAIR
portion of my cabin was still intact. I'd just have to dig it out from
all the golden soft coral grains that were blocking the cabin hatch.
With my head hurting like a Millennium Party hangover, I made my way
vertical and took stock of my assets. All senses seemed functioning,
all appendages intact, no bones broken. Not too bad, actually. I
figured earlier that I was up for dead.
I don't know how I did it, but with my head throbbing, my eyes
half-shut, my left arm and leg still partially paralyzed and my ears
ringing I eventually got as much off my sailboat as I was able to
salvage, including my RO filter, sextant, food, emergency rations,
mirror, knife, flare pistol, handgun and ammo, whatever electronics I
could pull from the broken console of my previously beautiful teak
paneled equipment rack, clothes, all my galley supplies and utensils,
various sheets, lanyards, halyards and lines and anything else that
might seem useful at a time like this.
I practically stripped the hull until it looked like a beached whale,
gutted, hollow and lifeless. Once I had emptied the boat, whatever
ballast was holding it in place was now removed, and the fact that the
keel was gone did little to hold it upright. It began to list back and
forth in the surf, its doom clearly indicated. With a last few
carefully chosen words, I bid my lovely expensive toy goodbye.
With my ass in the sand and my back against a coconut palm, I asked a
fateful question.
"Now, where the Hell am I?"
After I dragged everything far enough up the beach to keep it above the
wave line, I made my way inland, saw something that seemed familiar and
stopped.
I'll be fucking damned!
I landed right back on my little island! When Harold saw me stumble
into the last clearing he'd watched me disappear from through the trees,
he began squawking and making such a fuss, a casual observer would have
thought I had tied him to a tree and was pulling his feathers out one at
a time.
Surprisingly, my former home away from home had weathered the storm much
better than I did. The only major changes were the remnants of mine and
one other ship with all sorts of flotsam high on the beach, indicative
of higher than usual tides. The other ship was more of a commercial
freighter than a recreational craft, its rusting metal hull and Spanish
looking name making me think it was a derelict vessel at some time
during its previous life.
The first thing that I saw when I was exploring the rusty metal behemoth
was the results of a fairly significant fire, most of the wheelhouse and
upper decks toast. The ship must have been abandoned during the same
storm I had survived after the fire broke out.
Most of the areas below deck were still intact, lots of cargo on board
and still dry. I took the time to read what was printed on many of the
containers' manifests labeled 'MEDICAL SUPPLIES', but not having spent
enough time in Spanish class, I wasn't able to discern what was inside.
The first cargo box revealed all. I was now the proud owner of a
shipment of cocaine and marijuana. I even found at least one pallet
filled with tightly bound twenty and one hundred dollar bills, but it
didn't have much value out here!
I checked each of the metal shipping containers one at a time, fearful
that I might find someone inside, alive or not. Fortunately, the only
things I found were rather expensive techno-toys, cars and tons of
welcome supplies. Most of the legal contents were welcomed and eagerly
anticipated for dinner. There were more cases of food and beverages
than I would have seen if I'd stopped behind my favorite warehouse
grocery store in Houston.
It seems the smugglers on this trip were cashing in on a fairly decent
run and had no problem packing away enough supplies to keep someone well
stocked for a while. That person was now me!
Not wanting the vile and disgusting load of refined greed to ever see
the hands of man, I carefully emptied each box of whatever drugs were
inside and either burned or scattered them along the shoreline. I'm
sure there were quite a few fish that fell victim to the white powder
that slowly dissolved away in their home waters
The money was a different matter. That I could store away in a
protected area on the island in small bundles, should I ever need to use
any of it if I was rescued. How I'd explain to my liberators what I was
doing with millions of dollars in ill-gotten booty I'd worry about
later.
With every useful tool, mechanism, winch, pulley, cable, chain, kitchen
utensil, pot and pan now ashore, it took me another week to unload the
contents of the ship's usable stores before it began to return to the
sea, my small thirty six foot sailboat long since pounded into very
small bits of fiberglass, steel and plastic and then each piece claimed
beneath the waves. I had successfully extricated enough packaged
supplies from the larger ship to keep me in tall cotton for at least two
and maybe as many as four years if I ate nothing else, should my stay be
that long. I was even able to sample many a warm soft drink and beer
until even they might not taste good anymore.
All I needed to do now was to rebuild my old hut and set about to make
do with where I was. I retrieved each piece of bamboo that I had used
to construct my first hut and in another week, I had re-established
Texas Far-South West No more thinking about returning to my lovely
little Abbie now! Might as well make the best of it and be ready for
some serious wait time. If anyone got my EPIRB and radio distress
signal, I should see or hear something within a week or two.
Then again . . . . .
After I assembled the formerly pristine collection of electronic goodies
into a makeshift console, I pointed the satnav dish toward the
equatorial line and crossed my fingers as I powered up my computer.
Since the only solar panel I was able to recover was broken very close
to the electrical connector and I had no way to reattach it without a
soldering station, I had to rely on whatever battery power was left in
the only sealed lead-acid cell that survived without being crushed or
cracked.
Incredibly, the computer came on and seemed to work fine. I guess I
needed to write a thank you letter to the outfit that supplied me all my
high tech gear. Fortunately, that would only be after I made sure
somebody knew I was still alive and where my last GPS fix indicated my
tiny island was located.
I was in the middle of logging onto my mail server and saw the first two
messages flash up across the top of the screen when a loud <SNAP> forced
me to jump back, a smelly cloud of gray smoke filling the air around the
computer. Immediately after, the battery shorted and an increasingly
large bubble of dark gray plastic grew from the side of the case near
the positive terminal. I knew to hit the sand and get out of the way.
When it finally popped, I was left with a small collection of smoking
electronic trash, my computer still hissing and emitting a foul smelling
noxious mass of soot. I guess that letter won't be written to the
hardware guys after all!
I carefully gathered up all my formerly useful marvels of technology and
set them in a pile, cautious to separate as many pieces of memorabilia
as was useful. That evening's fire took on a whole new series of lovely
colors, including blue, green, bright red and orange.
A few days turned into another week, then two, then a month, then three.
Rather than get all stupid and desperate, I knew to make the best of it.
If I was going to be stuck here, then why not just relax, shave at least
once a week so I didn't scare Harold too much and use all the local
resources to prepare myself for an unplanned extended stay. At least
this place I knew and liked!
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.