Date: Sun, 30 Apr 2000 11:19:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: Brew Maxwell <brew_drinker23@yahoo.com>
Subject: First Mate, Part 2, Ch. 9

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real
people or events is purely coincidental.  The story contains graphic
descriptions of sex between men, and anyone who is forbidden by law to read
such material must exit the story now.  This story is being posted to the
Nifty Archive for the enjoyment of its readers.  It may not be posted or
distributed by any other media without the written permission of its
author.

First Mate, Part 2 is a continuation of First Mate, which can be found in
the Nifty Archive under gay/incest.  While there are some allusions to
events that occurred in First Mate, First Mate, Part 2 is largely a
free-standing work that can be read without having read First Mate.  My
other works in the Nifty Archive include Unusual Christmas and Nick's
Adventures, both in bisexual/high school, The Dancer in gay/encounters, and
From Slave to Houseboy in gay/authoritarian.

E-mail comments are always welcome.

First Mate, Part 2

Chapter 9

	Rick and I woke up early the next morning, as usual.  It seemed
that we somehow needed less sleep on the boat than we did on land.  We were
the only ones on deck, so we figured Bill and JJ must have found their way
to their cabin.  What they did there was anybody's guess.
	"This is a weird set of people we have here," I said to Rick, after
we had made love.  Morning was usually our most private time, and we took
full advantage of it.
	"You're not telling me anything new," he said.  "I think the three
dads are going to be cool with it all, but I don't expect them to join in
the group fun."
	"No, me either," I said.  Somehow the thought of my dad fucking in
my presence or watching me fuck was kind of revolting.  He and Stan would
do their thing in private, I just knew.
	"Last night was pretty memorable for at least two boys I know," I
said, after I had swallowed a large gulp of the coffee Rick had made for us
and had lit a cigarette.
	"I know what you mean," he said.  "Two cherries at the same time.
I think that might be a record for this boat."  We both chuckled.
	We passed the next couple of days as we usually did: swimming,
fishing, snorkeling, camping out on an island, taking the sun, and fucking
our brains out.  Wednesday morning our little bit of paradise at sea came
to an abrupt end.
	It was about ten in the morning when we saw a Boston Whaler
approach.  It was at least twenty-two feet, but I was surprised to see it
out there in the open sea.  We were due to dock in Kingston Harbour that
night, but that was still rather far out for a boat that size.  The Whaler
had two 65's on it's tail, and they started doing circles around us.  I
could tell Rick looked worried, and he told me to lower the sails.  I did
as he said, of course, and he got out our megaphone.
	"Ahoy.  What's the problem," he asked in a congenial voice.
	"We're coming aboard," someone from the boat answered.
	"I don't think so," Rick responded.  They responded with a gunshot.
	"Shit," Rick said to me.  "These guys are pirates."
	"What'll we do," I asked.
	"Go below and get our weapons.  And make it quick."
	I didn't even answer.  I was below deck so fast my dick slapped
against my stomach as I was running down the stairs.  I got the two riffles
we kept on board, making sure they were fully loaded on my way back up.  I
got there too late, though, and the guy with the gun was already boarding
us.  I recognized him instantly.  He was the oldest brother of the group
that had tried to take us months before--Jerry.  I let the rifles slip onto
the deck, and I noticed Stan kick them overboard.  I was pissed that he did
that, but later I would know that it was an act made in heaven.
	"I've had my eyes out for you bastards," Jerry said.  "That rainbow
fucking flag was a dead give-away."
	None of us said a word.  We were all naked, and Jerry was fully
clothed.  That tended to give him an advantage, at least psychologically.
	"It's them, all right," he called back to his boat.  In a minute,
his two dumbass brothers--Tom and Charlie--climbed aboard.  Then to Rick
and me, "We've got a score to settle, boys.  Y'all like to have killed us a
few months ago, and we aim to take what's ours."
	"You guys are welcome to everything we have," Rick said.  "How
about a drink?"
	"Shut your fucking mouth, man," Jerry said.  "We want you guys, not
your stuff."
	"Well, looka here," the fattest and dumbest brother, Charlie, said.
"The little boy's done got his dick pierced."  He came over to me and
started pulling on the ball and chain that was hanging from my PA.  It felt
pretty good, and I started to swell.  "It looks like he likes it.  Maybe I
can make him come this time."
	"He came last time, asshole," Tom said.  "You just couldn't make
him shoot his load."
	"Oh, yeah.  That's right.  I'll do it this time, though."  He knelt
in front of me, took the ball and chain off and dropped it on the deck, and
took my cock into his mouth.  He sucked me enough to make me hard, but I
didn't shoot when I orgasmed in his mouth.  My dad was watching all of
this, dumbfounded, and I was supremely embarrassed that he saw it.
	"Motherfucker," he screamed, and he slapped me hard across the
face.  "Goddamn, he did it again.  He didn't shoot when he come."
	"This is the prick who fucked up our plans last time," Jerry, the
oldest brother, said, meaning Rick.  "We need to get his ass."
	"Look, guys," Rick said.  "We were just protecting what was ours.
You guys were in the wrong, and you know it."
	"Yeah, and we're still in the wrong, but you're still gonna pay,
dude.  We almost died from what you done to us," Jerry said.  "String this
motherfucker up," he said, meaning me.
	Tom, the middle brother, took over at that point.  He pushed me
toward the main mast, pulled my arms behind me, and tied my hands together
with rope he had on him.  When he had finished, he came back in front of me
and punched me with all his might in my stomach.  I screamed in pain, and
then I puked onto the deck.
	"Whooa!  Wait a minute."  It was my dad.  "Who the fuck do you
think you are coming on board this ship and terrorizing these men?"
	Jerry, the oldest brother, put his hand on my dad's chest and
pushed him back.  He didn't fall, but it was close.
	"Who the fuck are you," the oldest pirate asked.
	"That's my son, and I'm goddamned not going to let you abuse him."
	"Your son?"
	"Yeah.  My son."  Dad was furious.
	"Well, now ain't this interesting," Jerry said.  "Are you queer,
too?"
	Dad looked at me as though to get my approval.  I looked back and
nodded.  Hell, I wasn't ashamed of being gay, and he shouldn't be either.
	"Yes.  Yes, I am," Dad said.
	The three dumbass brothers laughed.  I looked at Bill and JJ, and
they had terror on their faces.  Matt and Omar weren't pleased by the turn
of events, either.  Uncle Stan had a very worried look on his face, but he
wasn't terrorized like the rest of the guests were.
	"Well, ain't this a fine combination," Jerry said.  "We got us a
gay father-son team here.  We can have some fun with you guys."
	"Make the old guy suck him off," Charlie, the youngest brother,
said.
	Jerry, the one with the gun, turned toward him.  "That's the first
good idea you've ever had, Charlie," he said.  "Suck you son's cock,
bastard."  He shoved the gun to my dad's head.  Please do it, Dad, I
thought.  It doesn't matter.  Your life is more important than a blowjob.
	"I've never touched my son in a sexual way in my life, and I'm not
about to start now," Dad said.
	Jerry cocked the gun.  "You'll suck him off and make him come, or
you won't ever get off this fucking boat alive."
	"Dad, it's no big thing.  Do it.  They mean what they say," I
pleaded.
	"George, Kevin's right.  Do it, for God's sake."  Uncle Stan
understood the situation.  "It's your _life_, man.  Do it."
	Charlie grabbed my dad and pushed him to his knees in front of me.
Dad looked up at my face, and I gave him a wink.  That was my way of saying
it was okay with me.
	Dad didn't do anything.  Jerry put his gun to Dad's temple and
said, "Get started, motherfucker, or I'll fucking blow your brains out."
	My cock was 100% limp by then, and Dad touched it and moved it to
his mouth.  I knew the pain he was feeling at having to suck off his own
son, and I did everything in my power to will myself hard.  I felt the
warmth of the inside of his mouth, and my erection-reaction took over.  I
got hard.  I felt incredible anger at myself for reacting that way, and I
was even more angry at the pirates for making my dad do that to me.  I was
determined to make the ordeal as short as possible, so I contracted my
internal muscles to make myself come.  In a couple of minutes or less, I
popped a big load in Dad's mouth, and a good bit of it flooded down his
chin.  He pulled off as soon as I came, but I noticed his swallow reflex
kicked in as he pulled back.
	"Good work, guys," Jerry said.  "I knew you faggots would suck any
cock within reach."
	"Yeah," Charlie said.  "And make the young guy fuck his old man."
	I was still hard after my orgasm, of course, but the thought of
fucking my dad made me wilt.
	Jerry came over and started jerking my cock.  "No, motherfucker--or
daddy fucker, in this case--you're gonna fuck his ass."  He made me hard
again, and, again, it was a purely physical reaction.  The thought of my
dick up my dad's ass was so repulsive to me I gagged.
	"Don't vomit again, pussy," Jerry said.  "Just fuck him."
	Dad didn't know what to do, so he just stayed where he was.  Jerry
pushed him onto his back while Charlie was untying me.  My poor, sweet,
gentle father had terror on his face.  He had Tom's knees on his biceps
holding him down, and Tom also had both of his feet raised up.  I'd never
seen a man look more vulnerable or more wretched.
	Charlie dragged me over to Dad and shoved me down.
	"Fuck his ass, faggot," Charlie said.  I didn't move.  He grabbed
my hair and jerked my head back.  He spit a huge gob of phlegm in my face.
He pulled a knife out of a scabbard he had on his belt, and he put it under
my balls.  I felt the cool metal.  In an instant, he sliced into my
scrotum, and blood began running down my leg.  "I'll cut them motherfuckers
off if you don't fuck him."
	"For God sake, Kevin, do it."  That came from Rick.
	"Please, Kevin.  Don't let them hurt you.  Do it."  My dad's voice
was shakey at best.
	"God, I'm so sorry, Dad," I said, as tears started streaming down
my face.  "Please forgive me," I pleaded.
	"The only thing I won't forgive you for is allowing yourself to be
hurt by this scum," Dad said.  "Do it, son.  It's your duty."
	Dear Jesus, I prayed silently, please be cool with this.  You know
I don't want to.
	Charlie slapped me hard again, and I almost fell over.
	"Get the fuck on with it," he said.
	I rubbed my cock a few times to bring myself as close to orgasm as
I possibly could.  I finally leaned forward and found my dad's hole.
"Wait," I said.  "I need lube."
	Jerry tossed me a tube of KY from the mat.  I squirted a very
generous amount up my dad's hole, and I emptied the rest of the tube on my
cock.  I leaned forward again, and gently, very gently, I started moving
into him.  Fortunately, Dad wasn't very tight, and I slipped past the
sphincter easily.  I was suddenly all the way in.
	"Now fuck him.  Really fuck him," Charlie screamed at me.
	I started moving slowly, hating every cell in my body for what I
was doing.
	"You other motherfuckers jerk your cocks.  Everybody's gonna come
on this fuck."  That was Jerry addressing the other men standing around.  I
didn't look up, so I couldn't see what they did.  Out of the corner of my
eye I could see Tom taking his dick out of his jeans and jerking it.
	"Dad, I'm so sorry," I whispered to him.
	"It's not your fault, Kevin.  Just get it over with."
	I started pumping hard.  Dad contracted his internal muscles around
my cock, and I started getting close.
	"Jerk your old man's cock, boy," Charlie screamed at me.  "Make him
come, too."
	I took my father's penis, the organ that had created me, into my
hand.  He wasn't the least bit hard, but he responded to what I did to him
in a second.  Thank God, I thought.
	The whole ordeal didn't last more than four or five minutes.  I
came and shot my cum into my father, and I made him shoot, as well.  I
pulled out quickly.
	"There, are you satisfied you motherfucking pigs, you dog turds."
I screamed at the pirates, and tears washed over my face.
	Jerry and his brothers laughed at me.
	"Suck your cum out of his ass," Charlie screamed.
	I didn't move because I couldn't move.  I was frozen with panic.
	I jumped up and ran toward Charlie.  "No, motherfucker, I ain't
fucking doing that."  I started flailing my arms to punch the shit out of
him, but Jerry caught me and put the gun to my head.
	"Settle down, boy," Jerry said.  "Charlie, we've humiliated these
men enough.  You've had your fun.  Let's get on with our business."
	"Pussy ass," Charlie said to his older brother, but he complied
with his decision.
	"Okay, fellas," Jerry said, "here's what it's gonna be.  We're
taking this vessel and putting your asses in our Boston Whaler.  You'll be
set adrift, just like y'all done to us."
	"Do you know how to handle a boat this size," Rick asked.
	"No, we don't.  That's why wire-dick, here," meaning me, "is
staying on board with us.  Him and his old man.  He can run it, can't he?"
	"Yeah, he can run it, but I'm the captain.  Keep me."
	"No fucking way, Capt'n," Jerry said, sarcasm dripping from his
tongue.  "You're the dude who fucked us up last time, and it ain't gonna
happen again.  This boy's staying; not you.
	"Charlie and Tom, y'all tie each of them to a mast while we get the
rest of these fuckers on the Whaler.  Then come and help me."
	They wasted no time in doing as Jerry said.
	I lost sight of the guys as they left the deck.  In a minute, I
heard somebody hit the water.  Jerry shot at him five times and cursed
worse than any man I'd ever heard, but the next sound I heard was the
motors on the Whaler cranking up.  I figured somehow Rick had gotten into
the water and back onto the boat before the thugs could tie them down.  I
grinned at Dad, and I think he understood my elation.  If what had happened
was what I thought it was, those six guys would be safe.  I hoped and
prayed they had a decent radio on the Whaler so Rick could call somebody.
I later learned that they didn't and that they had only a few gallons of
gasoline for the engines.
	When Jerry came up, I could tell he was furious.
	"You dumb motherfucking son of a bitch," Jerry screamed at Charlie,
"why the fuck did you turn him loose?  How many fucking times have we been
over what the fuck you were supposed to do?"
	Charlie looked at Jerry with genuine fear in his eyes.
	"Gimme another clip.  This one's empty," Jerry demanded.
	Charlie looked at him with a dull lack of comprehension on his
face.
	"They're all on the boat, Jerry," Charlie said in a hushed tone.
	"You don't have them on you like I fucking told you," Jerry
screamed.
	"I'm sor...." Charlie didn't get to finish his apology.  Jerry hit
him hard with the butt end of his pistol, and the big man went down to the
deck.
	"Jesus Christ," Jerry screamed.  "Can't neither of you dumb fucks
do anything right?"  In a second, he addressed his middle brother.  "You at
least remembered the money, right, Tom?"
	Tom didn't say anything.
	"Where's the fucking money, Tom."  Jerry's anger was contolled, but
obvious in his voice.
	"Er, Jer, I, er, think it's still on the Whaler."
	"What!?  Don't fucking tell me you left the fucking money on that
piece-of-shit boat?"
	"Dude, I'm, like, real sorry.  But I thought we would get it when
we put them guys on it."
	Jerry reacted like a terrible, swift sword.  He hit Tom in the head
with the butt end of his pistol, also, and Tom was out.
	"God almighty, I'm so _fucking_ pissed off right now."  Jerry
screamed at his two brothers, who were both unconscious on the deck.
Judging by the force he had used on them, I figured they'd be out for a
while.
	Jerry went to the liquor cabinet and got a bottle of tequila.  He
up-ended it and made the bottle bubble.  I figured that was a point for our
side.  He sat down and lit a cigarette.
	"Hey, Jerry," I said.  "What happens now?  My dad and I could both
use a smoke.  You need to let us go."
	"Yeah, right," he said.
	"Seriously, man.  You want to stay here drifting all over the
fucking Caribbean?  Or you want to go somewhere?  We're not at anchor, you
know?"
	"Shut the fuck up and let me think," he said.  He bubbled the
tequila again.  That'll help you think, I thought.  I looked over at my
dad, and he had his eyes closed.  God, I hated what we had been forced to
do.
	Just then the radar alarm went off.  Jerry jumped up.
	"What the fuck is that," he screamed at me.
	"The radar alarm," I said calmly.
	"What does that mean," he demanded.
	"It means we're close to another vessel," I said.  I knew it meant
we were within a mile of a deserted island, but I wasn't about to tell him
that.
	"Well, turn it the fuck off," he screamed over the loud alarm.
	"Jerry?"
	"What, asshole?"
	"I, er, like, can't move because you've got me tied to the mast.
Either let me loose, turn it off yourself and change our course, or let us
crash with another ship.  Them are your choices."
	Jerry looked at me with disgust.  He took another healthy swig of
the tequila.  He walked over to where Charlie was still unconscious and
took the knife from his belt.  He came up behind me and cut me loose.  I
grabbed the boom at that moment and pushed it as hard as I could.  It made
the boat take a sudden jolt to starboard, and the knife flew out of Jerry's
hand, hitting the deck and sliding overboard.  Of course, we had butcher
knives in the galley, but I knew that dumb fuck would never think of that.
	I was free.  The blood that had run down my leg from my nut sack
had dried by then, and I knew I wasn't really hurt.  Jerry was alone on
deck, having cold-cocked his two brothers in his rage.  Then was my chance.
	Jerry made the most basic of errors by leading me to the cabin
where the controls were.  He went first.  I waited until we were in a clear
area of the deck, and I jumped him.  I got my arm around his neck the way I
had seen my wrestler buddies do it in high school, and I squeezed with all
my strength.  Jerry went down onto the deck, and he grappled with me with
more strength than I thought he had.  I kept my eye on the tequila bottle
he still held onto, and, as soon as his breathing told me he was struggling
for air, I grabbed the bottle and hit him in the head with it.  I had seen
a hundred movies where the whiskey bottle shattered into a million pieces,
but that wasn't what happened.  The bottle stayed intact, but Jerry
crumpled like a worn out paper napkin.
	I wasted no time.  I hog tied him, Tom, and Charlie, and I dragged
their sorry-ass, overweight bodies to the main mast where I had been tied
up.  I lashed the three of them together and all three to the mast.  I took
off their pants, and none of them was wearing underwear.  I had no idea
what they might be concealing in their clothes, and I wanted them off.  I
threw all three pairs of jeans overboard.
	My next move was to free my dad.  He and I embraced, and, once
again, I cried.  He cried, too, but I could tell he was really proud of me
for handling the situation.
	After our emotions settled down, I went into the cabin and turned
off the radar warning siren.  There was a pack of cigarettes on the
console, and I lit up.  When I took that first drag on my smoke, my whole
body reacted to calm me down.  I knew smoking had lots of health hazzards
associated with it, but, at that moment, that smoke revived me and made me
well again.
	My next step was to try to call the Coast Guard.  We were in
international waters, so they might not hear me.  I tried for several
minutes to raise them, but I didn't have any luck.  Then I remembered the
computer.
	I ran into the TV room where the computer was, and I immediately
sent e-mail to six Coast Guard vessels that were out of Key West, Miami,
and Lauderdale.  I explained our plight and the plight of the guys in the
Whaler.  One message bounced, and I saw why.  I had typed the address
wrong.  I re-sent the message.
	I went back on deck to where Dad was.  He had a bottle of scotch
and was drinking from it.
	"Let me have some of that," I said to him.  He handed the bottle to
me.  I started to up-end it, but then I thought I'd be a better captain
sober than drunk.  I handed it back to him and gave him a cigarette.  He
took it gratefully, and I lit up again, too.
	"What happens now," he asked.
	"Well, there's no way we can find the other guys, if that's what
you're wondering.  I just tried to raise the Coast Guard on the radio, but
they're out of range.  I sent e-mail to them, though, so I suspect we'll
have some action from them pretty soon."
	There was a long pause in the conversation.  Then, finally, Dad
spoke.
	"Kevin, what happened between us a couple of hours ago never really
happened, okay?"
	I knew what he meant, but it _had_ happened, and I could never
forget that.
	"Sure, Dad," I said.  And then I started crying.  He hugged me to
himself and comforted me.

	The sun was almost down when the first Coast Guard cutter got to
us.  Dad and I were still buck naked, and I, for one, didn't even think
about putting on any clothes.  The Coast Guard guys either didn't notice or
didn't mind.  I told the captain what had happened, and he said those three
guys were on the FBI's "Most Wanted" list.  He said there might even be a
reward involved.  They took them off our boat and into custody.  All three
were still unconscious.  The Coast Guard guys weren't any too gentle with
them, and I'm sure they inflicted as many bruises as Jerry and I had.
	My next priority was Rick and the other guys with him.  The captain
told me they had had no call or alert from them, so they had no idea where
they were.  Big tears welled up in my eyes.
	"What's the matter, Capt'n," the Captain of the Coast Guard cutter
asked.
	"I'm not the captain of this vessel, Capt'n.  I'm First Mate."
	"I saw the rainbow flag y'all are flying, and I know what that
means.  Is your captain also your lover?"
	"Yes, sir," I said through my tears.
	"I understand, son," the Captain said.  "God, I wish I had one like
you."
	Those eight words spoke volumes to me, and I knew that guy would do
all in his power to save my Rick.  He immediately got on his radio and told
all Coast Guard ships in the Gulf and the Caribbean to be on the lookout
for a Boston Whaler.
	He took his prisoners, after getting our names, addresses, phone
numbers, and everything else he needed for the legal system to get in touch
with us.  "Dad," I said.  "I know where Rick went."  I had been thinking
about that for a
 while, but my hunch was only that: a hunch.  "Really?  Where?"  "To the
island we were closest to.  We stop there sometimes, and it's close enough
that he could have gotten there on a quarter of a tank of gas.  Hang with
me."
	I had no idea where we were, so I pulled out the hand-held GPS we
had on board.  I tried to fire it up to see where we were, but the battery
hadn't been charged.  It was useless.
	I thought for a few minutes and lit up a cigarette.
	"What are we going to do, Kev," Dad asked.
	All of a sudden, I remembered the celestial navigation Rick had
taught me.
	"Don't worry, Dad.  Sailors have had this problem for centuries.  I
know how to set us right."
	I got out the sextant and the charts we kept on board.  I shot the
North Star, and, with a little bit of math, I figured out right where we
were.  I went to the deck to check the compass.  Our course had to be
changed, so I went to the wheelhouse and changed it.  I set the auto-pilot.
It was already dark, so I turned on every light we had.  I went back on
deck with my dad.
	"I think I'll have that drink now," I said.  He handed me the
bottle of scotch, and I bubbled it.  That was enough for me to drink, and I
handed it back to Dad.
	"Daddy, has this been the worse day of your life," I asked.
	"Yes and no," he said, after a moment of thought.  "It's been the
worse day because of what they made us do, but it's also been the best day
because of how you handled things.  I don't think I've ever been as proud
of you or either of your sisters as I've been of you today."
	"Goddamn," I said, and I burst into tears.  He held me to him, and
I knew it was all okay.

	We found Rick and the others around ten that night.  They had made
a big fire on the beach of the island, and we had seen it from a long ways
out.  The first thing I did was pass out cigarettes to everyone who wanted
one, and we sat for a few minutes, smoking and telling about what had
happened.
	"I'm sure glad they didn't find our rifles," I said.
	"That was my doing," Stan piped in.  "I figured there was only a
50-50 chance we'd ever get to them, and rifles are a whole lot harder to
handle in tight quarters than pistols are.  I assumed all three had guns."
	"They didn't," I said, "but your gamble paid off for us, Uncle
Stan.  What did you do with them?"
	"I kicked them overboard."
	"Good work," Uncle Stan, I said.  He grinned and kissed me on the
forehead.
	"Apparently, they had more money with them this time, Rick, and
dumbass Tom left it on the Whaler," I said.
	"No shit," Rick replied.  "Who do we give it to?"  He addressed
that question to the general group, but Matt responded.
	"Why don't you just keep it," he said.
	"Could that be legal," Rick asked.
	"I'd have to check, but you're not really subject to US law here or
where you took possession of the money."
	"Yeah, but it must belong to somebody," Rick said.  "The same for
that boat," meaning the Whaler.
	"How do you know it doesn't belong to the pirates," Omar asked.
	"Well, I guess it could be theirs.  They've been running dope for a
long time, I gather, and I guess they could have bought the boat, too,"
Rick replied.
	"How much is it," Omar asked.
	"I don't know.  It's still on the Whaler, I guess," I said.
	Rick got up to check.  He came back in a few minutes with two huge
canvass duffle bags crammed with what we saw, when he opened them, were
hundreds neatly sorted into $10,000 bundles.  There were easily two hundred
bundles in each bag.  I did a quick calculation and figured there were $4
million there, at least.
	"I think this is a fucking fortune," Rick said.  "What should we
do, divide it eight ways?"
	"Of course not," Matt and Omar said in unison.
	"If anybody deserves it, I'd say it was George and Kevin.  They're
the only ones who suffered from those bastards," Matt said.  "By the way,
son, how are your balls?"
	Everybody but me laughed.  My balls were fine, and the cut had
stopped bleeding hours before.
	"I don't want any of that fucking money," I said.  I realized then
that I had been cursing like a sailor all afternoon in front of my dad and
the other grown-ups.  I felt my face get red, but nobody could tell in the
dark.
	"Don't be ridiculous, Kevin," Uncle Stan said.  "They humiliated
you and George beyond anything I've ever even heard of, and you have a
right to that much revenge, at least.  And my considered opinion is you
don't owe the government a dime of it."
	"Absolutely not," Matt said.  At that point the two accountants and
the two tax attorneys started citing cases to one another.  I had known
they'd get into it eventually, but I had never dreamed it would be over
something like that.
	"Dad, Stan, guys--can we stop this," I asked in a polite but
insistent tone of voice.  "Dad, I'll take half the money if you'll take the
other half," I said.
	"Kevin, I really don't need the money," Dad started to say.
	"I don't either, Dad."  That put an end to his talk.  "I think our
guests deserve some consideration, though."  I started taking equal amounts
of money from each bag and handing it out to the other guys.  Each one got
two bundles, or $20,000.  Nobody refused, and I was glad.  "This is just
trip insurance from Rainbow Cruises," I said.  I even gave some to Rick.
His response was to stick his pinky into my PA and hold on to me.
	"Do y'all see why I love this boy so much," he asked the group.
	"'Cause you can control him with your little finger," Stan quipped.
Everyone laughed very hard, harder, in fact, than the joke was funny.
Given the circumstances, I guess it helped break some of the tension of the
day.
	(Eventually, after all the legal work was done, I ended up with all
the money, which was closer to six million than four.  That was months
away, though, so it didn't really enter into our minds that night.)
	After I finished giving out the money, JJ said, "Do you think
there's any food left on the ship, or did the pirates eat it all?"
	That made us laugh again, and I think all of us realized how hungry
we were.  We all got into the Whaler, which was only a few feet out from
the shore, and we towed the dingy Dad and I had come ashore on.  We took
the money and everything else back with us.  We went aboard.  My first
chore was to raise the dingy, which I did.  Rick went immediately to the
galley to get something for us to eat.  He came back with eight lovely
steaks.  I could hear the microwave cooking the potatoes when he came up on
deck.  I got up to help him.
	"Sit down, Kev.  You're not working tonight.  Make some drinks."
	"What is this shit: 'You're not working tonight; make some
drinks'?"
	"I just gave you an order, didn't I," Rick asked, grinning like
hell.  "Two orders, in fact, so fucking do it.  And make yours and your
dad's a double."  He gave me a quick kiss, and I felt my cock put on
weight.  I didn't get hard, but the anticipation of being in his arms that
night, reinforced as it was by that kiss, made my cock expand to its full
eight inches, soft.  My foreskin pulled all the way back, and, for a little
while, at least, I'd look just like the other guys.
	I made drinks.  Actually, I just got out the liquor and told
everybody to help themselves.
	Stan came up next to me.  He spoke in a very confidential tone.
"Is that an extension of the wee-wee I notice on you right now, Kevin."
	"Yup," I said, grinning at him.
	"Why, pray tell."
	"Cause Rick just kissed me, and I'm in love with him, and he's
going to fuck the shit out of my ass tonight.  Any other questions?"
	"You little shit.  God, you're cute, Kevin.  If I had just met you
for the first time on this trip, I'd do everything in my power to make you
mine."
	I got serious because that was a serious compliment.
	"You're joking, right?"
	"Fuck, no, I'm not joking.  You're more of a man at eighteen than
most guys are through their entire lives, and I mean that in every way.
What you did this afternoon was positively heroic.  You and Rick basically
saved our lives.  I know you're embarrassed about what happened, but get
over it, son.  George is fine.  Believe me.  I've known him all his life,
and I know fine when I see fine.  Please forget it ever happened, okay?"
	"Okay, Uncle Stan.  That's what Dad said, too.  I'll try."
	"I love you," he said.  "You're my step-son now, but I've always
loved you like you were real flesh of my flesh."
	Tears came to my eyes.
	"Lose the fucking tears, dude.  They don't become the macho-man
that was in charge this afternoon."
	"I can't help it, Stan.  What you said to me just means too much
for me not to get emotional."
	"I know.  Don't ever forget you've always got Stan's shoulder to
cry on.  Always.  And that's a promise."
	Well, that statement only made me cry worse, so I ducked down into
our cabin.  In a minute my dad was there.
	He opened the door and walked in.  "Can we talk?"
	"Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry about what happened today.  Can you
forgive me?  Please."
	"What?  Forgive you for saving my life and yours?  Forgive you for
rescuing us?  Forgive you for bringing to justice three major criminals?
No, I'm afraid I can't forgive you for doing those things."  He started
crying, and my own tears just gushed forth.
	He recovered faster than I did.  "Don't you see, Kevin?  I'm so
proud of you for what you did, I could burst.  You and Rick are both
heroes, you for doing what you did, including fucking me, and Rick for
saving the others."
	When he said "fucking me," I lost what little composure I had
recovered.
	"Oh, baby.  Baby," he said, cradling me in his arms.  "You have to
deal with this, Kevin.  What we did wasn't sex.  It wasn't incest or
anything like that.  It was an act of survival.  It was like those starving
people in the mountains who ate their comrades to save their own lives.
That's what you did, son, and that's why I'm so fucking proud of you."  He
lost it, again, at that point and bellowed.  We hugged and cried for twenty
minutes or more.  When I finally recovered, I asked,
	"Dad, I just have one question."
	"Shoot."
	"Was it good for you?"
	"You little shit," he said, as he laughed hysterically, slapping me
on my head with love taps.
	When he finally stopped laughing, he grinned at me.  "Yeah,
actually is was pretty damn good."
	We both laughed hard again.
	We took turns in the head, washing our faces and cleaning up.  We
were both still nude, but neither one really noticed or cared.
	"By the way," he said, as we were about to leave.  "When did you
get this thing?"  He pulled gently on my PA.  At that point, I had no idea
where my ball and chain was.
	"A few weeks ago.  Why?"
	"It's totally fucking awesome," he said, as he grabbed my ass as I
was leaving the cabin.
	I had needed that talk with my dad more than he could ever have
known.  I went back on deck a reborn man, and all the guilt and shit that
that afternoon had dumped on me was gone.  I went onto the lower deck and
took a shower while Rick finished cooking the steaks.  I scrubbed my skin
hard.  When I looked up, Stan was there.
	"Just like in Steinbeck's story 'The Chrysanthemums,'" he said.
	"What?"
	"A ritual cleansing.  A new baptism.  A washing off of the past."
	"Stan, I wish I knew what the hell you were talking about," I said.
	"What you just did.  You washed your guilt away.  And that's good."
	"I was really dirty, man.  I just needed to get clean, wanted to
get clean."
	"I know, but you weren't any dirtier physically than any of the
rest of us.  You don't see others down here.  What you did was healthy,
Kevin, psychologically healthy, I mean.  You symbolically washed your guilt
away."
	"Well Dad and I just had a really good talk...."
	"I assumed as much, and that's my point.  You've put that behind
you, and you've emerged fresh from your shower."
	I was drying myself when he said that.  I thought about what he was
saying, and I knew on a very deep level what he was saying was true.  All
of a sudden, I had an extremely strong urge to wash out my ass, to give
myself a water enema.
	"Can you stand watching me give myself an enema," I asked him.
	"Oh, my God.  That's perfect.  Yes, do it."
	I picked up the nozzle and stuck it up my ass.  I turned on the
water, and I felt it fill me.  In a minute or two I was full, so I stuck my
ass off the side of the boat and let it all out.  I did it a second time,
and I knew the water was almost clear coming out of me.  Finally, I did it
a third time, and that time I was sure I was completely clean, inside and
out.  The pressure of the water inside my body had made me erect, but I
wasn't sexually turned on.  It was like a piss hard-on in the morning.  It
subsided in a few minutes, and I accompanied Stan back to the deck.  I
really did feel clean and fresh, in every way.  I felt reborn again, for
the second time that night.
	Back on deck, everyone had a drink but me.  I had made myself one,
but I had no idea where it was.  I made a new one, sat down, and lit up a
smoke.  In about two minutes Rick had the food ready, so we all chowed
down.  I hadn't realized how hungry I was, but I certainly ate my fill.
The steak was more delicious than I had thought it would be, and even the
microwave-baked potato tasted good.
	We finished eating around 1:00 AM.  I was still too high to sleep,
so I got out my guitar.  I started playing some nice, quiet tunes and
singing the lyrics.  In a half hour or less, everyone on the deck was
asleep but Rick.
	"Come to bed, Babe," he said, and he put his arm around my
shoulder.  "Tonight they sleep under the stars and we sleep in private."
	I really wanted Rick to make love to me that night.  He wanted to,
also, but he was so tired he couldn't get it up.  Instead, he encircled me
with his arms, his soft cock wedged in my crack, and we fell asleep.