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Subject: Caribbean Adventure Chapter 2 This is my first contribution to Nifty. I have two passions: sailing and boys, so it seemed only natural to bring the two together for you. Hopefully you’ll enjoy either sailing or boys, or maybe both! This is the second of 10 chapters written so far. Chapter 1 was a bit of a scene setter, but now your patience will be rewarded (if indeed you were patient?). I have to confess that i enjoyed writing this, with a lot of of written as i flew to the Southern Hemisphere. I damn recommend it as a great way of whiling away the hours! If there are sailors out there, I’d love to hear from you. And if anyone else wants to give me feedback or have a chat, my email is ota. Needless to say that the there’s fact and fiction in here, and that any sections implying activities that involve contact with minors are of course entirely fictional. So I invite you to step onboard my fantasy world and sail off over the horizon with me. I discovered Nifty a year ago. It’s an awesome resource for reasons that we all understand and it costs money to keep it going, so please be sure to donate to .Org in order to ensure that it keeps allowing freedom of thought and expression. Live aboard boys A season sailing in the Caribbean CHAPTER 2 I went to the main saloon, poured myself a tumbler of single malt whisky and thought about the unexpected turn of events. Whilst I’d be happy to have company, i knew that i had to try and reunite Jonno with his family. But this was 1973, so pre internet and mobile phones, so this was going to be a challenge. I resolved to find out from Jonno the name of his parent’s boat and to see if i could raise them using the long range radio telephone, which us cruisers use to keep track of friends, share gossip and occasionally warnings of bad weather or even piracy. I set my alarm clock for 4.30am, which should give me enough time to get away on time the next morning. Polishing off the whisky (a 25 year old Macallan, so worth savouring) i brushed my teeth and turned into bed. It was still dark when the alarm went off the next morning. Being so close to the equator, daylight in the Caribbean is pretty much 12 hours whatever the season. Moving quietly so as not to wake Jonno, i made some tea, threw on shorts and a t shirt and set about getting ready to depart. I looked in on Jonno. He was still fast asleep, now lying on his tummy, showing off his cute little bum to perfection. My plan was to let Jonno sleep for as long as he wanted to. Just before 5am i started the big old Diesel engine (if you can sleep through that, with it’s rhythmic throb) you can sleep through anything), untied the lines that secured us to the dock and quietly slipped out of the inner harbour. For those who know a bit başakşehir escort about sailing, Bonne Aventure is a gaff yawl, built in 1926, 42′ long before you get to a bowsprit which extends forward over the water by another 10′. She’s heavy, great in a sea and actually easy to sail short handed. As we motored along the main channel, I hoisted the mainsail, mizzen and one of the two headsails whilst in the lee of the land. Once we were out from behind the headland we’d have 20 knots of wind, gusting 25 maybe, and from a good sailing angle, so there was no need to reef: this would be a glorious sail. By 6am we were clear of the headland and into the lively seas of the Atlantic, which roll in between the islands. I set course for the channel between Anguilla and St Maarten, tied off the helm, checked the sails and went below to make myself some coffee. Five minutes later, i was sitting in the cockpit, enjoying my favourite part of the day, as dawn creeps in, allowing colours to emerge from the infinite shades of nighttime greys. It always seems odd to me that a sun that disappears below the horizon so quickly at sunset takes so long to raise it’s head the next morning. And although the sun was up by 7.30am, it was an hour later before there was real heat in it. My thoughts were disturbed by Jonno appearing, standing bleary eyed in the companionway that led into the cockpit, with a distinct tent in his Y fronts. “Morning Jonno”. He stretched, yawned and said “Morning captain. I need a pee. Can i go over the side please?”. That’s a sailor’s habit I’m afraid. I suppose you get lazy when there’s no one around for miles. “Sure kiddo” i said “but hold on tight. Hang onto the mizzen shrouds. You’ll be fine”. I was behind the wheel, so i had a ringside seat as Jonno pushed down the waistband off his tighty whities and popped out his morning woody. For a skinny little guy he’d been well provided for,noticing that it was longish and thin, with a fold of foreskin covering the tip and more. I suppressed a giggle as he tried to balance, hold onto the rigging, press down on his woody and concentrate enough to pee. A moment later, a golden arc glinted in the sun. It seemed to be never ending. Finally it slowed to a dribble. He shook the last drips away and snapped the waistband back, flashing me a smile as he did so. “What’s for breakfast? I’m ravenous.” An hour later, breakfast was done. On deck, spray was flying and the boat was romping along, reeling in the miles. The island of St Maarten was off to starboard and Anguilla was low on the horizon. I was at the helm thinking how lucky i was when Jonno came on deck. He was dressed in cut off jeans shorts that looked like he’d grown out of them a year ago; they were faded halkalı escort and ripped. And by the look of things, he’d decided that underwear wasn’t necessary. He slipped in beside me on the helmsman’s seat. Quite unexpectedly he turned and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you Tim. Thanks for rescuing me. Can i stay with you do you think?” I put my arm around his shoulders, kissed the top off his head, savouring the lovely aroma and said “Well, i could do with a cabin boy. Are you applying for the position?” “Aye aye sir” he said with a cheeky grin, as he snuggled up close to me and placed his head on my shoulder. “Well then Cabin Boy, you’d better steer whilst i check the navigation. There’s a reef up ahead to port, so we need to make sure we’re on track. Can you steer north north west for me?”. Jonno looked at the compass, took the wheel, and soon settled down to steering a steady course, which was no mean feat given the size of the waves. I went below to check the chart. We were a good 12 miles offshore, which was as planned, and by my reckoning had around 6 hours sailing to go. I went up on deck with a bottle of Coke for each of us and some biscuits. I came on deck to see that Jonno had abandoned his shorts and was as naked as the day he was born, still sitting and steering where I’d left him. He was a golden brown from head to toe. I raised an eyebrow and smiled. I guess it’s a bit of a bluewater sailor’s habit when away from land, so i said: “Good idea number two, do you mind if I join you?” He smiled. “Sure skip. It’s much nicer this way”. So i shucked off my tatty old shorts and for a moment stood relishing the feel of the sun on me. At that moment the sails started to flap and all hell broke loose. We were fifty degrees off course. Jonno was staring at me, clearly transfixed by my low hanging cock and neatly trimmed pubes. It appeared that my helmsman’s attention had been elsewhere! “Ahem, cabin boy, keep your mind on the job!” “Sorry skip, i was admiring the view” “Cheeky boy” i said. We settled back down on course and i adjusted the sheets to make the most of the wind. Seeing that Jonno was as happy as a sand boy steering, i set to with doing some odd jobs that i’d never normally have an opportunity to do whilst sailing alone. Lunch underway is usually sandwiches. I’d baked some bread the day before, so i made up some doorsteps with some slices of thick cut ham and chutney, and we ate these, washed down with fruit juice. We chatted and laughed, speaking about his sailing experience (which was impressive) but steering clear of the topic of his parents, which i could sense that he was keen to avoid. “Here, give me the wheel whilst you clear away”. Jonno did as he was asked and minutes later was şirinevler escort back beside me in the cockpit, lying on the cushions that he’d bought up and with his head resorting on my thigh. The feeling of skin against skin was wonderful. The feeling of his hair gently brushing against my still naked body was divine. I was trying to think about whatever i could to prevent the inevitable, but nature being what it is, and not being used to have the head of an 11 year old boy resting in my lap, the inevitable happened. I was hoping that Jonno hadn’t noticed my growing cock probing his ear, but the fact that his own boy cock was rising towards his tummy suggested otherwise. Any thought i had that he might have been sleeping was dispelled by the sweet smile on his face. I let the moment pass and let him drift off to sleep. I could get used to this. An hour or so passed and we need to make an alternation of course. “Jonno buddy, wake up, we need to alter course and trim the sails”. I gave him a gentle shake and gently sat him upright beside me. He stretched, yawned (that boy has a mouth like a cavern) and gave me a smile. “Sure skip. Let me do the sails whilst you steer”. We bore away 30 degrees to enter the channel between the islands. Jonno expertly trimmed the sails, although struggling a bit with the weight of the heavy mainsail as he hauled it in. That gave me an opportunity to study his physique; although he was a skinny boy, he was strong and a joy to watch, with his little muscles flexing as he worked. I spied a few other boats entering the channel with us. “Jonno, we have company. Time for clothes i think” “Aw, skip, must we?” “Just for now i said. Do you fancy going for a swim?” I asked. The look on his face said enough. “Great, Then that’s the plan. There’s a little island with a few palm trees and a beautiful secure anchorage, but the approach is through nasty reefs so it’s usually empty.” It was 2.30pm as we approached the narrow channel between the reefs that led to the island. We’d taken the sails down and started the engine. The sun was still high in the sky. That was important for navigation as it means that someone looking down from above can easily see the dangerous reefs in the waters below. “Jonno, are you OK to go up the mast and be my lookout?” No sooner said than done. Jonno scampered up the ratlines (rope ladder steps up the rigging) and in a moment was standing on the cross trees looking out over the way ahead. “You need to come a bit to port skip” he shouted out. I looked up, taking in the sight of this gorgeous bronzed boy high above the deck. “That’s good. All clear on this heading.” Minutes later we were through the reefs and into the secluded bay. As I’d expected, we were the only boat there. I manoeuvred the boat into my preferred position to anchor, as close to the beach as possible but with enough room should the wind direction change. “Let go anchor Cabin Boy”. Jonno let the brake off and the anchor tumbled down to the white coral sand below. We’d arrived.

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