I finally rid myself of the hot little stowaway tramp Vista and set off for new adventures.
40. Going To See Sonya
My alarm started screaming at me early, at 5 a.m. I was all set to cast off at 6:30 and I needed my required coffee first. The boat was fully prepared, but I did want one more shore based shower and drop off my keys at the office.
I poured some coffee and ambled up to the office area where the showers were. I took a quick wash down and dropped my keys at the office. When I returned to the boat, I was shocked to see my little Vista sitting in the cockpit. What the fuck?! I seriously thought that she was clearly in my rear view mirror.
"Don't worry, Sailor. I'm not trying to stow away again. I just had to come and give you a proper send off, privately. Then I'll leave, I promise."
My first reaction was to angrily eject her from my boat. Send her running back to Stardust with her tail between her legs. But that's not my style. And the thought of having that nice tight cunt, just once more, was enticing.
"This is certainly a surprise, Vista. And please express my gratitude to Bill and the other guests for such a stimulating gathering last night. Oh, and to Sherry, too. She provided a great service to me and satisfied all my needs."
"I'll relay your gratitude to Bill but I'm afraid you're on your own with your squeeze from last night. She's no longer associated with Stardust."
"What !?! You fired her? That's unfair! I'm the one who requested that she be my escort last night. She was just doing her job."
"Oh, Sailor. Never mind about her. Bill pawned her off to another boat. She'll be fine. Now, about that send off...." Her eyes had recovered from their crossed wires of the night before and were "talking" coherently again. They very clearly told me to get below and take her pussy one last time.
We had a rather standard missionary style pussy fuck. It was nice, but really kind of awkward. Knowing it was a "goodbye" fuck put it in a whole different light. It felt good, oh, that nice tiny body with that miniature cunt. But the emotional overtones were distracting.
After I finished depositing my final load of cum inside her, we dressed. Standing there awkwardly, I pulled her to me and wrapped her in my arms. She buried her head in my chest and let out a big sigh. I couldn't see her pretty face but I knew her eyes were leaking again.
We held each other for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually I put my hands on her shoulders and held her at arms length. I used my fingers to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes, filled to overflowing with tears, sad and withdrawn, were still captivating.
"I'm sorry this is ending, Vista. I wish I was 40 years younger. But, I assure you, this is for the best for both of us. You have brought me worlds of pleasure and you will forever hold a very special place in my heart. And, don't forget, you still have my number. Ring me up whenever you feel the need." I kissed her on the forehead and gave her one more tight squeeze.
Then she was gone.
I poured a fresh cup of coffee and sat quietly, reflecting on my time with her. She really was the ideal woman in my mind. But I knew right from the start that it would never work out long term. I assured myself that there were plenty of other fish in the sea. It was time to go fishing.
As I motored out of the marina entrance, I looked back. There she was, in the early dawn light standing on the flying bridge of Stardust, waving at me. Even though it was early in the morning, I gave three short blasts on the air horn.
Freedom! Once again out on the open water! The weather looked good for the morning hours but rain and some scattered squalls were forecast for late in the afternoon. I deployed both sails and set a course.
When sailing, you either "sail to the wind" or you "sail to a destination." In the former, you set your sails to most effectively catch the wind from whatever direction it is coming from. This is efficient, fun sailing. But you have no real destination in mind and you'll end up wherever the wind takes you unless you change course midway. If, on the other hand, you are trying to sail to a specific destination, you must plot a course to take advantage of the wind and head you to your goal, realizing that sailboats can't sail directly into the wind.
I was doing a little of both. I knew that I wanted to head generally north, headed up the east coast of Florida. But I had no specific port or inlet that I was aiming for. On this day, the wind was coming from the north. Because sailboats can't sail directly into the wind, this meant that I had to, basically, make a big triangle called "tacking." One side was the north-south line of the wind; the second side was the first leg of my course headed northeast out into the ocean; the third side being the last leg of my course headed northwest back toward land. It's not very efficient in terms of making much distance, but it's the only way to sail to a destination that's located dead upwind.
A small benefit was that I would be far enough out in the ocean to catch the Gulf Stream. That's a "river" of ocean current moving south to north at 3 to 5 knots. This would help push me along, much as a tailwind helps airplanes fly faster in one direction.
I had all day and the wind was stiff, pushing me along at 7 knots. Once I got about 15 or 20 miles offshore, the Gulf Stream enhanced my speed to about 9 or 10 knots. I was making good time. And there was no land in sight, no other boats, nothing but the sound of the wind and the boat crashing through the waves. This is how life should be.
After about 5 hours, I came about. I tacked into a starboard tack, headed northwest, back towards the mainland. I had my eye on some dark storm clouds off to the north. I switched on my radar. Watching the storm cell, it was headed right toward me. No way to avoid this one, I thought. I got out my wet weather gear and battened the hatches.
Sure enough, in about three hours the squall came on. The wind picked up considerably to over 20 knots. I reefed in both sails about half way.
The rain, gentle at first, became a torrent. Blinding sheets of rain, driven by the wind, pummeled me. The waves were now cresting at 6 to 8 feet. My 40 foot boat suddenly felt very tiny out in the expansive ocean. The bow would ride up to the wave crest, tip over the top and crash down into the trough as the next wave crashed on the foredeck. The water would drain off the gunwales as the boat rode up the next wave. All this in 20 knot winds driving heavy rain.
After an hour of this torture, the squalls began to fade away and I could see land on the distant horizon. The closer I got to land, the more the storm died off. The rain stopped, the wind died to 10 knots and the waves became a manageable 2 to 4 foot swell.
I checked my charts and I was headed directly toward an inlet. This was a way to leave the ocean and get into the protected waters of the Intracoastal Waterway (the ICW, more commonly called "the ditch"). My charts showed a drawbridge opening on the half hour and warned of potentially treacherous conditions under certain wind and tide combinations.
I radioed ahead to the bridge tender and saw that I was on target for the 6:30 opening. I also called ahead to reserve a transient slip at the closest marina. I dumped the sails and turned on my iron maiden, my trusty Yanmar 40 hp diesel motor. I maneuvered my Love Boat through the inlet and under the open bridge without incident.
Turning right, I headed northbound up the ICW. I found the marina about 2 miles from the inlet. I was worried about running aground as it was now low tide. My 5 foot deep keel bumped on the bottom twice as I left the ICW, headed into the marina.
Once securely tied to the dock, my day was over. The scotch tasted extra nice, warming my throat as it soothed my jangled nerves.