Author's Note: This story is an original work of fiction. Future stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand. Certain characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors. Feedback is desired and greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
Copyright 2008 by Jack and Josephine Cutter.
This story stars: Allegra Widmore, Parker Wellington and Danielle Rosen.
This story contains: male-female erotic coupling, fellatio, cunnilingus, significant anal play, group sex with minor lesbianism, showering, minor voyeurism, drugs and alcohol, teenagers and the taking of innocence.
The sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant shade of blue and the waters were calm and obliging. The breeze was light and carried with it the scent of the salt of the ocean. There were no clouds in the sky, neither overhead nor on the horizon. Dark blue liquid stretched into the distance to the port side unbroken by land or vessel. The emerald isle of Catalina lay off the starboard side.
It was the kind of day men who lived their lives on the sea longed for.
Walter Driver looked out over the Pacific ocean and sighed softly as the breeze tickled the skin of his face and neck, pleasantly and much-welcomed as it cut the mid-day heat. He was standing on the tiny exterior deck adjacent to the bridge on the upper deck of the lady Allegra, which was one hundred sixty-four feet (fifty meters) of state-of-the-art Super Yacht, an expensive and ultra-luxurious little gem of a boat owned by the powerful Widmore estate, an old and illustrious family with significant real estate holdings and ties to the world of high finance.
Walter had captained the vessel for its entire two-year existence and had been in the employ of the Widmore family for more than a decade. His previous assignment had been as captain of the Widmore II, the personal craft of Bradford Widmore, eldest son of Huntington Widmore, one of richest and most influential men in the world before his death some six years prior. Working for Bradford had been demanding and challenging, but ultimately rewarding, and Walter had earned over his years of service a great deal of respect and trust from his employer.
Which is why Bradford decided Walter was the only man worthy enough to captain the Allegra, which was a sixteenth birthday present to his precious youngest child, his only daughter, Allegra Widmore.
"You're the only man I trust to watch over my daughter, Walter," the fifty-five year-old Bradford had told him that overcast day two years earlier. "She's my little girl, my baby doll, and when she's not under my roof I need to make sure the people around her are Widmore people through-and-through. The world is a dangerous place for girls like Allegra."
And so Walter had taken the job (with considerable monetary advancement, of course).
The first two years had been the easiest time of his professional career. Allegra Widmore rarely spent time on the ship and when she did, it was with other members of her family or close friends. For the most part, the two years had consisted of Walter steering the boat around as a companion vessel to the Widmore II.
Then Allegra Widmore turned eighteen, however, and everything changed. Of course, access to a twenty five million dollar trust fund tended to have that effect, he reasoned. Example: one of the four birthday parties she threw for herself happened on board the ship with more than one hundred people coming and going at various intervals over the course of the night. It had been the single longest night of Walter's life.
And couple that with the girl's close friendship with Parker Wellington, the son and heir to the Wellington family fortune, who at twenty years was a rather wild young man with great passion for the yacht-living life, and it was easy to see how far downhill Walter's own life had gone.
Walter lived now for those intimate moments when he and the blue waters could reconnect at the deepest levels, moments like the one he was currently experiencing where he basked and soaked in the scents and sounds and splendors of the sea.
A throat cleared respectfully behind him. "Captain?" a voice asked.
Walter turned and found his Second Officer, Albert Graves, standing at attention before him. Albert was a good man and had been with the Allegra since its maiden voyage, as had most of the crew Walter counted on for primary operations of the craft.
"Albert?" the captain asked quietly.
"Weather report came through on the wire, sir," the man replied. "Clear skies indefinite."
The captain nodded. "Thank you, Albert," he replied.
The other man hesitated. "Should I ... tell the boss, sir?" he asked in a voice that spoke volumes.
The "boss" was what the crew often called Allegra Widmore; "Miss Widmore" was other name they used. The name "Allegra" in their circles was always used in reference to the ship itself.
Walter sighed. "No, Albert," he said. "I'll do it."
The other man smiled. "Thank you, sir," he said gratefully.
And so Walter began the short trek up one level to the roof deck, the highest point on the yacht and the spot Allegra Widmore preferred always to lounge about while sunning.
Allegra was easy enough when she was alone, but whenever the Wellington youth was aboard with her the crew tended to have as little interaction with them as possible; the moods of super-wealthy and super-spoiled trust fund babies could change likes the winds. Allegra and Parker had been upstairs together for nearly two hours.
Once arrived at his destination Walter immediately took note of three things: first, that the two young people, neither of whom were of legal drinking age, were sipping from glasses full of what he doubted were full of water or fruit juice; second, that their chairs were facing right into the noonday sun, which meant they were facing towards the direction from which he was coming, which he was thankful for as it required less distance for him to travel to reach them; and, third, that the girl, his employer's precious daughter, was wearing what looked to be the smallest gold bikini in the history of gold bikinis, which he was decidedly NOT thankful for.
The blossoming of Allegra Widmore had happened swiftly: one minute she was a gangly and somewhat awkward girl of sixteen, the next she was a sultry creature of legal age oozing femininity and sensuality from her every pore. Her body filled out in the perfect kinds of ways and her demeanor changed dramatically, too: she was hot and she knew it, and she acted like she knew it. The crew of the yacht, most of them male, were often subjected to her flirtations and teasing, and it seemed Walter himself bore the most significant brunt of it.
"Walter!" the girl squealed as she saw him approaching. Her pair of expensive Gucci shades had lenses so large they covered half her face, but not her smile, which dazzled. She was truly a lovely young woman, which made everything all the more difficult.
Walter inclined his head. "Miss Widmore," he said pleasantly.
"Isn't it a beautiful day, Walter?" she breathed as she rose to a sitting position. Her exquisite breasts jiggled as she moved and for an endless instant he worried they would fall out of her top.
"It is, Miss Widmore," he replied.
She sighed and settled back into the lounger, her bronzed legs stretched in front of her. "Sunny and perfect," she said, then affected a pouty expression as she added, "although this silly boy just wants to go inside all the time. Tell Parker it's more fun to stay outside, Walter, please?"
Parker Wellington had not moved an inch since Walter arrived, but at the mention of his name he drew a lazy hand up to his face and plucked his shades down just enough to make eye contact with Walter.
He was an extremely attractive young man with jet black hair that fell about his face, deep blue eyes and a well-formed physique, which was now on display. He was not the nicest guy, nor the most respectful, but he was not a complete asshole, either: he was the prototypical super-wealthy and boundary-less spoiled rich kid playboy. He had no real job and no real responsibilities, the poster child for the party-and-play lifestyle.
When he spoke, his words were languid and pretentious. "The simple fact of the matter is, Walter," the young man of twenty said, "that I can see more of her inside than I can outside, and the weather never changes. It will still be here when we get back."
Walter was stunned the boy had the audacity to make such brazen remarks to a man who was in the employ of the father of the girl he was pursuing, but despite his flaws Parker Wellington was smart. He knew Walter would never say anything to the girl's father.
Allegra scoffed. "Fine," she countered flippantly, "if you want to see more of me, Parker, all you had to do was ask. It helps with my tan lines anyways."
And to the great dismay and utter shock of Walter Driver, the respectable captain of the yacht that bore her name, Allegra Widmore reached up and undid the strings of her bikini top and pulled the garment away, baring her gorgeous breasts to anyone and everyone who came near enough to see.
"Miss Widmore, please!" Walter exclaimed. He fought valiantly to curb the rising problem in his slacks, which the sight of the girl's incredible assets had exacerbated dramatically.
Allegra waved a dismissive hand. "Don't be such a prude, Walter," she told him. "They're just my tits. I'm sure you've seen a few pair in your day."
Parker chuckled. "Probably not any as nice as yours, though," he said.
.... There is more of this story ...