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Chapter One Amanda Masters was excited. Finally, school was out and she could make some money again. At sixteen, there were a lot of things she'd like to buy and they were the kinds of things her mother wouldn't buy for her. Jill Masters would have liked to be able to buy her daughter pretty much anything she wanted, but being a single mother, she just couldn't.

Both Jill and Mandy knew that wouldn't be good for her anyway, so neither got too broken up over the fact that they didn't have a lot of money. Both were wise enough to accept it was just the way things were, for the present. Mandy picked up the phone and dialed a number she'd never forget in her whole life. Even if the person who picked up got a new number, she'd remember the old one forever. It was like the combination to the padlock she used on her locker at school There was a lot of background noise, rumbling and wind and other voices in the background.

What the hell do you want an education for anyway? I don't want any of them falling in the drink at the end of the trip. I might get a tip out of this bunch. Mandy had been kissing her uncle for years. To Mandy, they were just kisses, the same kind her mother gave him every time she saw him. That they were right on his soft, warm lips didn't seem odd to her.

He was her uncle From Mandy's viewpoint, Bob might as well have been her father - her mother had never married, and all she'd say about Mandy's real father was "When you're twenty-one I'll tell you about him. Sometimes those trips could last a week or more, so it was possible to see him only a few times a month. On the other hand, when he wasn't out on his yacht with customers, he spent most of his time at their house, coming and going as if he lived there.

It didn't seem odd to Mandy that he often spent the night there, saying something like: To her mind he was the perfect image of some movie star, not old at all, quite handsome in a plain, strong way, with permanent creases left by smiles on a face that was tanned and windblown. But she didn't mind at all that he stayed the night. That usually meant she got to stay up late playing board games with him, or watching a movie.

In the winter time, which meant it was only seventy degrees outside, instead of ninety, sometimes he'd roast marshmallows on the grill and make smores out of them while Mandy danced impatiently, waiting to get her fingers all sticky with the sweet dripping of melted marshmallow and chocolate. And, he invariably came to their house to clean up after a cruise, instead of his own.

So it wasn't at all strange for Mandy to see him coming out of the bathroom, clad only in a pair of faded boxer shorts, his dark hair wild and still damp from having a towel roughed over his head. His broad shoulders and muscles still firm from a younger life as a wrestler in school were something Mandy was used to seeing. It was then, with him smelling clean and slightly perfumed from the soap, his skin still damp, that his sister and niece would welcome him back from the sea with hugs and kisses as he lifted them off the floor, often twirling them around in a circle while his lips were planted firmly against theirs.

Those kisses, and the easy comfortable friendship she shared with him during those relaxed times would have been listed among Mandy's favorite memories, had someone asked her to make a list of them. Then, after eating, usually still clad only in boxers, Bob would search for the list he knew would be on the counter somewhere, the list of things that needed fixing, or needed muscle to get done When he found it, Mandy would pretend to ignore him, knowing that he'd eventually ask her to help him with most of those chores, and that, during the process she'd learn something, and get to use power tools.

She loved all of that, but pretended to be horrified at the idea of "having" to work with her uncle. I haven't shaved them in just years and they're all horrible and hairy. I can't possibly spend time helping you. She had stolen one of her uncle's razors, cutting her legs to ribbons that first time. Then he'd stalk her all over the house as she ran from him, giggling and laughing, until he clamped a hand on her calf and pronounced it soft as a baby's butt.

He quite often swatted her butt afterward and told her to behave. Then they'd fix the blinds, or retrieve the lost earring from the trap in the sink, or fix the toilet that ran all the time, or whatever had happened while he was gone that his sister wanted him to take care of when he got back.


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So it wasn't unusual for both her mother and Mandy to be extra happy to see him if he'd been gone quite a while. Thus Mandy looked forward to giving him the "welcome home" kisses that her mother had alluded to by yelling "Kiss your uncle for me. They were on the lips, and they weren't little pecks with no meaning. The Masters clan believed in real hugs and real kisses. Mandy didn't know whether she liked kissing her uncle more when he needed a shave, or after he'd taken a shower, shaved and was clean and smooth. She liked, for some reason, the sharp pokes of his whiskers on her cheeks, or when he teased her by digging his chin gently, but firmly, into her neck.

She fought him each time, but they both knew her heart wasn't really in it. She squealed and wiggled, but it was more out of some kind of excitement that made her warm all over than it was to fight him off. Her mother seemed to like to kiss him a lot too. But, it had always been that way.

Uncle Bob had always given both her and her mother long, strong hugs. Both of them sat on his lap sometimes while they watched movies. Both of them got kisses that, even when she was only eleven had made her feel like she was melting. And, whenever Uncle Bob stayed over, Mandy's mother always went through the same vocal litany of complaints. First she'd complain that the couch was too old and lumpy, and that he'd hurt his back if he slept there, and then she'd probably have to nurse him back to health. Then, since he couldn't sleep on the couch, as she dragged him toward her bedroom, where the big king sized bed was, she moaned that she wouldn't get any sleep that night because of all the wild pigs that would suddenly be snorting around in her bedroom.

Uncle Bob had always winked at Mandy and smiled, never saying a word as he was led away by his complaining sister. Mandy had always giggled. She could hear her uncle snoring sometimes through the walls, but her mother seemed to make lots more noise than Uncle Bob ever did.

When she was quite young, Mandy had heard moans coming through the wall, and her mother saying things. She had imagined her mother tossing and turning, trying to get to sleep while Uncle Bob snored. The bed springs made it clear that somebody was tossing and turning in there.

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Later she noticed that the bed springs only did that when Uncle Bob was staying over, but she then ascribed that to HIM tossing and turning, and her mother's unintelligible words as her harping at him to stop. But in the morning Jill Masters was always "bright eyed and bushy tailed", as Uncle Bob said it. She always looked particularly happy, and Mandy came to realize that all that moaning didn't seem to mean anything bad.

She had ignored it after that. Habit can make our mental eyes glaze over sometimes.

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As she grew into a young woman, all those things had happened for as long as she could remember, and they all seemed just as normal to Mandy as opening your eyes in the morning. With her mental eyes glazed over Habit also made her a little less observant than she might have been otherwise. She had never noticed, for instance, that when her mother kissed Uncle Bob, there was always at least a little tongue involved. He patted her mother on the butt a lot, but then he patted Mandy on the butt too.

It was just the way things were, and the way they had always been. This was going to be a great summer. Mandy was sure of that. She had turned sixteen, and could drive. That seemed to be sure to open all kinds of doors to freedom, even if she couldn't think of anywhere in particular she wanted to go. And now that she sixteen she could work for Uncle Bob legally and officially. He made a very good living taking rich people out to party or fish, and he made sure that those people had a very good time on his boat. His first mate only mate, really, was an old Mexican man named Manuel, who could cook up the most amazing meals, and who knew how to care for the big Detroit diesel engines in the yacht almost as well as Bob did himself.

And Mandy, always eager to learn something and be on the boat, had shadowed Manuel, learning a lot more of what he knew than people might have expected. Manuel, knowing she would be sixteen the next year, had announced that it was high time he go home to Mexico in the summer to visit his daughters and grandchildren for a few months, and suggested that Mandy could handle things while he was gone. Bob had rolled his eyes, while Mandy had danced happily. Oddly enough, she only did her best cooking on the yacht. She almost never cooked gourmet meals at home, unless it was her mother's birthday, or some other special day.

Since he was inbound, Mandy didn't put on her bikini under her clothes. She knew her only tasks would be the cleanup variety, and that she wouldn't have any chance to work on her tan. She didn't mind, though. Hard work didn't scare her at all. She was waiting at the dock when the Chris Craft hove into view. She knew that, in fancy lettering on the stern were the words "First Wife," which Bob had named the yacht because he said it took all his money and didn't provide any sex.

It was forty-seven feet long, with a fifteen foot beam and only took up four feet of draft. The twin Detroit engines only produced horsepower, but that was plenty, even for ocean going. With three staterooms, two heads, a shower stall that could provide either fresh or sea water and a full galley, it was almost like living at home. Bob had gotten a new generator that was smaller and which allowed him to put an extra hundred gallons of fresh water on board, which meant water didn't have to be rationed unless the boat was going to be out for more than a week.

Up on the bridge there were all the bells and whistles that hadn't been there originally, in , when the boat was first launched.

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With GPS and all the other electronic wizardry that had been invented, Bob could go pretty much anywhere anybody wanted at the drop of a hat. As usual, it looked like he was moving way too fast as he approached the dock. He patted her mother on the butt a lot, but then he patted Mandy on the butt too. It was just the way things were, and the way they had always been. This was going to be a great summer. Mandy was sure of that. She had turned sixteen, and could drive. That seemed to be sure to open all kinds of doors to freedom, even if she couldn't think of anywhere in particular she wanted to go.

And now that she sixteen she could work for Uncle Bob legally and officially. He made a very good living taking rich people out to party or fish, and he made sure that those people had a very good time on his boat. His first mate only mate, really, was an old Mexican man named Manuel, who could cook up the most amazing meals, and who knew how to care for the big Detroit diesel engines in the yacht almost as well as Bob did himself.

And Mandy, always eager to learn something and be on the boat, had shadowed Manuel, learning a lot more of what he knew than people might have expected. Manuel, knowing she would be sixteen the next year, had announced that it was high time he go home to Mexico in the summer to visit his daughters and grandchildren for a few months, and suggested that Mandy could handle things while he was gone. Bob had rolled his eyes, while Mandy had danced happily. Oddly enough, she only did her best cooking on the yacht.

She almost never cooked gourmet meals at home, unless it was her mother's birthday, or some other special day. Since he was inbound, Mandy didn't put on her bikini under her clothes.

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She knew her only tasks would be the cleanup variety, and that she wouldn't have any chance to work on her tan. She didn't mind, though. Hard work didn't scare her at all. She was waiting at the dock when the Chris Craft hove into view. She knew that, in fancy lettering on the stern were the words "First Wife," which Bob had named the yacht because he said it took all his money and didn't provide any sex. It was forty-seven feet long, with a fifteen foot beam and only took up four feet of draft. The twin Detroit engines only produced horsepower, but that was plenty, even for ocean going.

With three staterooms, two heads, a shower stall that could provide either fresh or sea water and a full galley, it was almost like living at home. Bob had gotten a new generator that was smaller and which allowed him to put an extra hundred gallons of fresh water on board, which meant water didn't have to be rationed unless the boat was going to be out for more than a week.

Up on the bridge there were all the bells and whistles that hadn't been there originally, in , when the boat was first launched. With GPS and all the other electronic wizardry that had been invented, Bob could go pretty much anywhere anybody wanted at the drop of a hat. As usual, it looked like he was moving way too fast as he approached the dock. Mandy held her breath as the boat slewed to starboard and the muted thunder of the big diesels roared as he kicked the transmission into reverse. And, as usual, the boat stopped just short of the dock bumpers.

Seconds later a rope was thrown to Mandy who tied it down to a bollard on the dock and then ran aft to do the same thing back there. A motorized gang plank emerged from the side of the yacht and, as soon as it was in place the gate at the top opened. Immediately two men, obviously drunk, and a young woman wearing a skirt and blouse tried to disembark. Only the built-in rail on the gang plank saved one of the men from falling in the water as he waved what looked like a bra at the woman. I don't remember taking it off.

I found it on the back of the boat," he slurred. It's a good thing you brought Chuck along. The woman struggled to a standing position and tried to straighten her clothing. She leaned toward Mandy. I bet he'd be even better than Chuck. Mandy turned around to see her uncle sauntering down the gang plank. That woman wanted more coc She had seen the occasional woman sunbathing nude on the boat in the past, and some men too. I'm all grown up now Uncle Bob," she stated proudly. But I'll get you something nice to make up for it, I promise.

She reached for him and kissed him soundly on the lips, holding her body against his. His chest and arms felt hard and his lips were soft against hers. She felt a sudden urge to wiggle against him, but didn't. She pulled back and then said. Bob pushed her back reluctantly. Mandy felt little flutters in her stomach when he looked at her.

That was something she'd felt a few times in the past, but mostly when a boy she liked at school talked to her or brushed up against her. Now that she was sixteen she'd also be allowed to date, but wasn't too excited about that because she felt stupid when she was around boys. She didn't know what to say to them, or how to act around them. She'd let herself be lured into dark corners at school dances, and had explored her curiosity to the point of trying a few kisses, but her uncle was the only male she'd ever pressed her body up against.

Having that fluttery feeling didn't really bother her with him, though. She had no trouble talking to him. Google Eyes wants to go fishing again. He always brought her with him when he went fishing.

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Chastity liked to wear skimpy bikinis, when she wasn't working on her tan. When she worked on her tan she liked to go naked. Since Chastity was only fourteen, that meant they had to wait until they were in international waters before she could caper around naked. When she did, her father stared at her, his eyes bugging out. He had stared at Mandy too several times, which was when she christened him "Google Eyes".

He behaved himself, though, and was a frequent and good tipping customer, so neither Bob nor Mandy minded. Bob's rule was that tips were shared by all hands equally. Mandy squinted up at the sun. She knew what to do, and bounded up the gangplank to begin doing it. She checked the stores to see what would have to be replenished.

Now that she had her license, she wouldn't have to depend on Uncle Bob to take her to the store. He had an old rusty pickup truck parked in the marina parking lot that they used for trips to town. The houses they lived in were only five blocks from the marina, so nobody ever drove back and forth between those two spots. She knew where the key was hidden, so once she had her list together she just took off and got what was needed. By the time she got back Bob had refueled and pumped the water tanks full again. He was, in fact, taking a shower when Mandy returned and started putting things away.

She had to make several trips to the truck and was hot and sweaty herself by the time she was done. On her last trip Bob came out of the head, his hair and face covered by the towel he was using to dry off with. He was wearing a pair of hot pink swimming trunks. I don't look at your nipples. That would make me a pervert, and I'm not a pervert. Theodore simply adores them. She held on and he had to lean forward again, howling at the pain. He lunged for her and she backpedaled in the narrow passageway, shrieking and kicking as he lumbered toward her, his hands reaching for her own teenaged swells as if he had pincers, like a crab, instead of human hands.

She made it to the galley and grabbed a stainless steel tray out of a wall rack, pulling it over her breasts and flattening them against her body. His hand darted toward her, but below the tray He goosed her in the front of her shorts quickly and she squealed, the tray slamming down toward his wrist. But his wrist wasn't there any more.

His fingers pinched where he hoped her nipples were and then snapped back toward him before she could react. She began to chant and dance in a circle. No more ogling the boss. Playing with his niece had been getting more and more stimulating as time passed. She was beginning to look an awful lot like her mother had when she had tiptoed into her big brother's room one night to whine that her date had laughed at her because she didn't know how to jack him off. She had demanded that Bob teach her, and before the lesson was over had ended up flat on her back, naked, with her big brother's boner firmly planted in her belly, spurting its hot load of spunk inside her.

Jill had gone out with lots of boys, but none of them measured up to the man who'd taken her virginity. The fact that she'd gotten pregnant was an accident. Bob had been gone to a high mountain survival and equestrian camp for six weeks and Jill got so horny she let one of her dates do what, before this, only Bob had done.

She had missed her very next period, a week before Bob had returned. She had cried a lot, thinking that Bob wouldn't have anything to do with her any more.