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Damn, he thought to himself, she's tougher than most, but she's going to be worth it. Harry took his eyes momentarily off the young woman's curvaceously reclining body, and turned to check the compass bearing.

"Take her a few more degrees south, Hans, and hold her steady," he said.

Hans Piemmel started. "Yes sir," he said quickly, and swung the big wheel of the Vera until the compass needle was resting precisely on a southwest bearing.

Harry looked at his captain, at his huge frame and his powerful arms resting lightly on the wheel. He could see Hans had been devouring Lynn's delicious body with his eyes, the same as he himself had, and he wondered what kind of perverted thoughts were racing around inside the cunning mind of the husky seaman. He laughed. What the hell, he thought, probably the same ones running around inside my mind.

Harry glanced down at his own muscled, hairy legs, and decided he wasn't in bad shape for his 45 years. His broad-shouldered, thick-chested frame was the result of punishing daily gym sessions, sessions Harry conducted with the same fervor that had made his the most successful used car business in Marina. Harry considered himself a successful lover too, and if the number of his conquests was any indication, he was right. Harry grinned. The idea of buying a boat had been a good one too, he decided, because now the conquests even came to him.

He looked back up the sloping deck of the cruiser, past the raised deckhouse, to where his new prize was laying, unaware of his plans completely. In the day and a half they'd been at sea, Lynn had not responded to a single one of his hints, had not even seemed to realize that hints were being made. It was frustrating, but Harry had handled this kind of situation before, and he knew he could do it again.

Lynn rolled onto her side, and the line of her small waist flowed smoothly up into the perfectly rounded curve of her almost naked hip, creating a profile etched onto the blue, cloudless sky as though it had been painstakingly sculpted and placed on the bow for erotic ornamentation.

That's my little figurehead, Harry thought, and decided Lynn was a great improvement over the carved statues set on the bows of the old sailing ships. He grinned a lewd and secret grin. He knew his figurehead was a real, live, flesh and blood woman, and he planned to take advantage of that fact before this cruise was over.

Harry glanced behind him, at the churning wake created by the powerful 370 horses down below decks. The Vera was really moving along now at 11 or 12 knots, and the breeze picked up the crests of the breaking wake and spun them spraying out in all directions. Yessir, he thought, the Vera is a beautiful boat. $75,000, but worth every penny of it. He had bought her only a month before, and this was her first, her maiden, voyage. Harry was taking her from Florida to Nassau, to take the place of the smaller boat he had just sold. The old boat had begun to bother him, reminding him of the days when he couldn't afford anything bigger or better, but now he had the Vera. Harry loved his new yacht like he had never loved a woman. "The only trouble is," Harry liked to say, "you can't fuck a boat."

He looked up along the deck again at Lynn, who seemed to be asleep now, the suntanned flesh of her belly undulating rhythmically, raising her small rounded breasts up and down in a seesaw of painfully inviting motions. Harry felt the warmth of the sun through his nylon swimming trunks as his aroused cock began swelling, jerking upwards in strict cadence, it seemed, with the sensuous movement of the susceptible young blonde girl's body. It swelled until it was straining at the restrictions imposed by Harry's trunks, but Harry didn't notice. He was watching as if hypnotized by the methodical in and out, in and out, of Lynn's breathing, feeling the motion of her petite little body in his loins, feeling the delicious warmth of her naked breasts pressing firmly into his great hairy chest, her hungrily straining legs locked around his plunging hips, her hot breath on his face… Harry's hand unconsciously sought his painfully throbbing cock, and he began to slowly massage it, giving it just a little more room inside his trunks, allowing it a new chance to fill with the blood his heart was now beginning to pump wildly throughout his entire body. His chest began to ache with desire, and his hand moved more quickly now over the straining nylon material that separated his penis from full freedom. His heavy balls throbbed with the pressure of pent-up sperm, waiting to be released… waiting… waiting to flow unhindered into the lubricated wetness of Lynn Shaffer's tight little cunt.

Harry couldn't stand it any more. He stood up quickly, and climbed the two steps leading from the cockpit to the deck. He lurched backward, thrown by a sudden pitch of the boat, and then began to make his way up the rail to where Lynn lay vulnerable in her near-nakedness. Harry reasoned wildly: one quick pull and that little piece of cotton bathing suit wouldn't stop him… nothing would stop him… he would be pumping out his cum into her tender young pussy before she even knew what was happening, and then…

"Mr. Johnson!"

The voice stopped Harry in his tracks. It took him a split second to realize where he was, and who was calling to him. Then he turned and looked down into the grinning face of Hans Piemmel.

"What… what is it?" Harry managed to get out.

"I just thought you might want to come and check this oil pressure, sir."

Harry realized with a start, that Hans must have been watching him all the time. Harry was momentarily embarrassed, and then angry.

"What the hell's wrong with it, you bastard?" he snarled.

Hans' grin didn't leave his face.

"As a matter of fact, not a thing, sir."

Harry stood glaring down at the sunburned, scarred face of his captain, uncertain whether to give him hell or to continue his attack on Lynn, and as he stood there, the anger began to flow out of him as quickly as it had come, and with it his painfully throbbing erection subsided. But Hans was right. Harry Johnson was not the raping kind, and he knew it. He would have ruined everything by throwing himself on Lynn, and he would have been beaten back by her first scream. No, raping a woman was for other men, Harry knew. Men like Hans Piemmel.

"You bastard," Harry said softly, defeated.

"Yessir," Hans grinned.

Harry stepped back down into the cockpit. He slowly stretched out on the cockpit seat, and shut his eyes.

"Man, she's a nice little piece, though," he murmured.

"Yeah," said Hans, "but an awful hard cunt to crack."

Harry glanced up at the captain, and then laid his head down on one of the life-preserver cushions strewn about the cockpit. He laughed.

"But we'll crack her," he said lewdly. "We'll crack her good and proper," and his mind began searching for a plan of action.

Hans looked over from the back of the large cockpit at the powerfully built body of his boss. He sneered to himself with disgust. Any man that would let another man talk him out of a good lay, was no man at all. If it had been me, Hans thought, looking up to where Lynn slept in blissful ignorance, that little honey's legs would be split in two wide-spread pieces by now. Hans' cock stirred at the thought.

"Not now little man," he murmured under his breath, speaking to his rapidly awakening penis, "not now. You'll get your chance, don't worry. Just leave it up to me."

Hans checked the compass, and brought the boat back around to south-southwest. Johnson may own this boat, he thought, but he sure can't navigate it. Hans could navigate it though. Hans could do anything when it came to boats. Ever since his fifteenth birthday, when he'd run away from his home on Dutch Curacao, he'd been working the boats of the Caribbean; freighters, mail boats, charters, yachts, you name it. It came naturally to him, and he sometimes liked to say with pride that he owed his skill to his Dutch forbears, the best sailors in the world. And now he was captaining Johnson's Vera. He looked at this job as a definite step up in the world, and he was earning twice what he ever had before in his life. But it wasn't the pay that made him stick with Johnson. It was the little dividends that Hans most enjoyed. Johnson usually ended up fucking every female "guest" on his cruises, but there were often guests who were a little reluctant to accept Harry's peculiar brand of hospitality. It was Hans' duty and pleasure to see to it that these ladies were made just a little more receptive. It had happened many times before, and it would happen again. The captain figured it would happen on this voyage.