Second Chance
Chapter 28

SECOND CHANCE is copyright protected. Any use, including reprints, without specific written permission is forbidden and illegal

DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story: Chapter 28 - 43 year old Carl watched helplessly as Death came for him in the form of an overloaded produce truck. Suddenly he found himself in the body of a 14 year old boy, injured in the same accident. Now Carl had to learn how to live as Brian and cope with a new life and a loving mother.

Caution: This DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Consensual   Science Fiction   DoOver   Incest   Mother   Son   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting  

The ATLANTIC MOON bobbed in the slip. It was after midnight, and Winnie finally stopped wandering around in shock at the thought of my trust owning something so outrageous. Colleen and I had waited her out, while she laughed, ran up and down the circular staircases, rode the elevator, and dipped her toes in the twelve-person hot tub on the rear deck.

Colleen had fought like a tiger to get the best price, and make sure the boat wasn't stripped between agreements, and closing. The phalanx of armed guards that took over security as soon as the first memorandum of agreement was signed, certainly had something to do with the sellers foregoing any thought of removing anything mobile enough to be carried and hocked.

Once the crew was vetted and signed to new contracts, we could begin to think about what would come after this assignment is completed. The Judge made it positively clear that the ATLANTIC MOON belonged to me, not to them, even though they made the cash available. They covered their tracks like pros - the government wanted no part of repatriating their money.

It was my boat and their mission.

When Winnie finally ran down, she found me and Colleen naked and nearly asleep in the master bed, which was roughly twice the size of a king. We had christened the boat with our own first, and waited so long for Winnie to appear that we almost missed her entirely.

I felt the bed shift when she climbed in and decided to see what she would do when she found that we had started and finished without her. Winnie climbed onto me and rubbed herself, very intimately against Mr. Johnson, who being the gentleman he was, rose to the occasion like a trooper.

Winnie found her own first time to be extremely satisfying and dropped off to sleep faster than either me or Colleen, which annoyed us both, but not for long.

Waking up in the master bed of a mega yacht is ... unique. Throughout the night I enjoyed the gentle roll of the boat as tiny waves moved it around in the slip. There was a bit of a bite in the air coming through the open French doors that lead to a private deck, complete with four-person hot tub, mini bar, and satellite TV. The boat was facing west, so there was no glare from the morning sun to wake us prematurely, but I still woke up early, surprisingly anxious to get on with my day.

Before slipping out to the deck, I looked back and watched my two girls sleeping. Colleen was face down and wrapped up like a mummy. Her hair was all over the place, and she looked like she was sleeping a hole in the bed. Winnie was on her right side, one arm thrown out, just touching the mattress where I had been a minute ago. Her hair was neatly gathered behind her head, and her face was quiet and serene.

They could not be more different or more unique, but I loved them both the same. It was easy to love them equally and separately. When I included Beth Ann and Rebecca, I realized I loved all four of my women both individually, and in a complex, group sort of way. They fit together in my heart, even as they held their individual places. It was natural to consider them all together, before I made an important decision, but at the same time to look at it from all four perspectives.

It was all about love.

Our life was the natural outgrowth of each of us loving the others, and me loving them.

Amazing! Five people loving each other that way.

Love...

What a nice way to start the day.

Colleen dragged herself out to sit with me, carrying a cup of coffee that had to come from the galley. I hadn't seen the makings around our suite last night. She looked a little more put together than when I left the bedroom, and I complimented her on being up before Winnie.

"That girl played herself out last night. I'd be surprised if she can walk today, much less run around all bubbly and stuff." Colleen was right. Winnie had been all kinds of wound up, as she played the happy, jet setting, girl-woman, all evening. The folks at the casino were going to eat that act up.

Thinking about my mission made me have to broach the subject with Colleen. "You have to leave today, so we can keep moving this thing forward," I said. "It's at a crucial moment, when they will choose to want me or not want me anywhere near them, and the Judge needs me to make this happen.

"If you stay, it will upset their preset opinion of me and maybe get us all killed."

That hit home, and Colleen finished her coffee, packed, and took a limo to the general aviation side of the airport to catch the G-5 home.

We were tired after all the excitement and near miss with the goons trying to re-bug our room, so Winnie slept until after ten. I used the time to report in, rethink every single thing we were doing, and make some small revisions in my plan. Winnie had her own suggestions, and we worked on them together.

According to the itemized inventory, the ATLANTIC MOON, was totally, fully, exquisitely furnished, which means there should have been NOTHING we had to go shopping for, to round out the ensemble. If you believe that, I can assure you that you simply ADORE the ocean front property for sale in North Dakota, and will be amazed at the wonderfully warm winter weather there.

I paid, or I should say, the trust account that was mine, but not populated with my money, paid one-hundred and nine million dollars for the ATLANTIC MOON. The yacht had ZERO pending charters, so it is easy to see why it was so easily put up for sale, and why the nameless owners accepted twenty-seven point thirty-three percent less than their asking price, even after our independent yacht appraiser came in with a value of one-hundred twenty-four million dollars in real value. With no bookings at about a million dollars a week, the yacht would get expensive to own very fast.

 
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