The Road to Chaos - Cover

The Road to Chaos

Copyright© 2018 by Old Man with a Pen

Chapter 4

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 4 - JW and Cyn Flintkote break away from their little sister. Jw is headed for Japan. He wants to be a Hero...like his dad. Cyn wants away.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Ma/ft   Teenagers   Heterosexual   Fiction   School   Science Fiction   Incest   Brother   Sister   White Male   White Female   Oral Sex  

JW

Warmer.

Much warmer.

Cyn was spending all her free time on the cabin top testifying her love of the sun ... starkers. For all she was 48 feet long, Sailbait was singularly lacking in foredeck. The commissioner had specified six three headroom, so she had quite tall cabin sides, narrow floors and no tumblehome. She had decent decks ... easily walked upon.

When it was her turn on duty Cyn spent her time as the helm watchdog either naked or just bottoms. The warmer the weather the less she wore. Too bad she’s my sister.

Now ... and I do hate to admit it ... if she was Surprise ... I’d be all over it. There’s just something about younger women that turns my crank. As it is, I’m glad Cyn is the older woman ... Okay, okay, okay ... they are identical ... but I have no trouble telling them apart ... Cyn is used. Surprise is innocent.

As the water shoaled the fishing improved. Fishing on the edge of the continental shelf at about 400 feet produced a fish the fed us for the rest of the sail. A 33 inch (about 7lb 8oz) coral trout. Baked, deep fried, grilled, steamed ... no matter. The fish was mild, sweet, moist firm, white with a few easily removed large bones. Served with the canned or frozen vegetables, rice, quinoa or potatoes ... we had run out of fresh weeks ago ... the fish was a welcome change from the Argentine tinned mystery meat or the hard dried sausage we were resorting to since the last of the swordfish went bad. The Tasmanian deeps might not be a saltwater desert ... but nothing we had for trolling brought any interest.

Motoring in under the New Zealand flag (NZ registered vessel) we flew our yellow Q messaging flag from the spreader. We were met by the port authority and a drug dog.

We aren’t New Zealanders ... but ... since Mom ... and the CIA debacle ... we’re not United States citizens either. “They’re dead,” said the President, and that made it so.

Australia thought that was pretty funny.

“Political Refugees, huh?”

“Yes sir. My main objective is finding a crew or two for passage to Japan.” I confessed. “As soon as I can provision and refuel we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Japan?”

“Yes sir. Training for three years ... just until I’m 18. You could say I’m on a mission.”

“What about her?” he motioned at my bow ornament.

“Sister. She decided to come along at the last second. She has her own money and agenda. She’ll probably keep going.”

“You know about the earthquakes and the new volcano?”

“In Dunedin?” I said. “Mostly ... Volcano?”

“In the Cook Strait.”

“Between North and South?” I said, “A couple reports ... Bad?”

“Keeps growing and there’ll be one island.”

“That’ll piss off a bunch of ferry companies.” I said. “Now ... where will I find crew?”

“Tasmania.”

That was weird. “All of them?”

“Anyone who knows a line from a halyard,” he said. “Sydney to Hobart race.”

“Well ... shit fuzzy,” I said. “Can we stay until they get back?”

“I suppose.”

“Now I need to call my sister,” I said.

“She’s right there,” He looked. “Yup.”

“Wrong sister,” I said. “The good one stayed in Dunedin.”

“That one’s bad?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. She’s going to be sadly disappointed.”

“Why?”

“She’s looking for hung and young.”

“Not a sailor?”

“Sailor would be a bonus.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Housekeeper, cook and my age,” I said. “Clean bill of health would help.”

“Do you have evil intent?”

“I’m fifteen ... of course I have intentions.”

“I’ve got a fifteen year old ... going on 30 ... she sails,” he said. “I doubt she’s virgin. What’s the pay?”

“Depends on experience,” I said.

“Let me call,” and he did. “You need the phone?” he asked after he hung up.

“I do need to call Surprise,” I said, reaching for the phone.

He slapped my hand. “Surprise? Surprise Flintkote?”

“My sister,” I agreed.

He used a handheld to call the Harbor Office.

“I have John and Cynthia Flintkote here. What was the message?”

“Your sister is alive, well and providing lodging for Mattie, Albert, Jim and six first year girls and two of their boyfriends,” He looked at me.

“65 foot cat ... plenty of room.”

I got another look.

“She’s like that.”

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