Chapter 9: Crossing into Doubt.
Three nights later I met with my sailing teacher for dinner and sat at the table and talked for three hours about the trip. He told me a lot of stuff he never spoke of in class, I wrote lots of notes. I honestly think he would have gone with me if he wasn't working and married. He also suggested using a rubber strap on the wheel and a GPS to alarm if I sailed off course, bring an extra GPS too, packed in a water tight bag.
We discussed sinking, unexplained water in the bilge, emergency equipment, safe cooking, bathing, toileting at sea.
He told me about the long trip he took with his wife on their tenth anniversary sailing from Long Island to Brest, France (3 weeks), then down to Portugalete, Spain (3 days) to see the Vizcaya transporter bridge.
On the trip back they stopped to rest for three nights at the Port of Angra on the Terceira Island in Azores (1500 miles, 8 days) then sailed back to Long Island. Its 2500 miles from Azores to Long Island, at 200 miles a day with no stops in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean it took 18 days to sail part-way home. That made 60 days at sea, he said they experienced every possible failure except the sails, hull, rudder, the mast, and their friendship. He's written two books about the trip and the places they visited, like the WW2 U-Boat facilities in Brest.
The next time I saw Carlo in person I brought up the subject and told him he could go with me, but he chuckled at the idea of leaving (his family) for two months. The interesting part was he didn't react when I told him I was probably moving to California (next year). Maybe he didn't catch that reality yet, or maybe he didn't care. But I stressed that he should just think about the trip for a while.
September.
It was mid-September (mid-hurricane season) before Carlo and I spent time together again. It seemed getting Saturday and Sunday off was difficult for him. In the days before our next 'date' we discussed what to do, where to go, Carlo said he'd like to spend it on Susan but not go anywhere. It was hurricane season so rain was likely, he just wanted a weekend of not taking care of his elderly parents and all their drama and bullshit. He said they argued a lot but it's mostly a cultural thing for them, it wasn't angry arguing but it was constant. He said it's probably the same way his grandparents talked at home, and was probably part of the reason why he was an only child, his father sounded upset about something all day, every day. And now sometimes he got mad about stuff that happened fifty years ago, or never happened at all.
I convinced him I wanted to show him a good time (and I would take good care of him) so we planned on him taking an Uber to the marina on Friday night, we'd order a pizza and drink too many beers and maybe hang out naked, just bodies and massage and orgasms and peace and quiet until he left on Sunday. We could have all our meals delivered and never go outside except to the bathroom.
I didn't care what we did as long as his body was on the menu, he was having a good time, and we were together. More than sex I enjoyed his companionship, I liked listening to him talk and his faint Mexican accent which only showed up on a few words.
The forecast didn't look good for central Florida for the weekend; rainy, windy, and muggy as an annoying tropical storm moved across the state. I knew he was watching the forecast too, but the good part of the storms meant I'd have fewer neighbors overhearing sounds coming from our boat.
If someone stood on Pier-K and looked at the forest of sailboat masts, they all kind of sway at the same rate, but there's that one that moved twice as fast as the others!
A notice I saw at the yacht club said the indoor venue (the bar and pool) was rented out for a wedding party on Saturday (5pm-midnight), which meant the pool and deck would be packed with loud drunks too. But they'd use the external parking lot, not the fenced and monitored member's lot. The possibility of having a beer and a pizza or a hoagie at the bar was shot in the ass that weekend. But our member's bathrooms would be fine and we could always order delivery food.
I stocked the ice chest: ten pounds of dry ice, two cases of beer, one case of water, munchies, and other nice snacks. I could even make some snacks myself in the microwave. I also dumped one bag of ice cubes into the cooler just in case.
The memory care nursing home in Tallahassee told me they expected Mom would pass before the December holidays, she slept about twenty three hours a day now and no longer spoke to anyone but she could be spoon fed soft foods. I'd already paid for her burial and reminded them what mortician to call when she passed. I declined to be notified when she was very near the end (or as they say: Circling the Drain). I wanted her to pass quietly and peacefully, hopefully with a familiar healthcare aid holding her hand. My presence there would only upset her since I was a scary strange man to her now. The people that worked at that place were saints in my opinion.
Since all of her friends were gone there was no funeral planned, she'd go from her bed into a box and lowered into the cemetery beside Dad. Mom was a DNR, no further treatments were authorized, they were to let nature take its course except for comfort measures. They emailed me that she stopped waking up every day to eat and have a bed bath. Now she had a urinary catheter and received nutrition by IV line. Her end was nearing. I felt good that she'll soon be together with Dad.
After many hours of reading online I located the best devices to make coffee on a sailboat. The best way I found was using a hand operated bean grinder and a stainless steel Bialetti Espresso pot that made four cups at a time. Note that 'cup' in espresso language did not mean the same as a 'cup' at a diner. In espresso lingo 'cup' meant the same as 'shot,' which was about 1/3 of a mug at any American diner.
And speaking of shopping, I wasn't sure how Carlo would react to sex toys so I got a couple rubber dicks and rubber jerk-off sleeves (and lube) but would keep them semi-put away but I would tell him I had toys. I doubted he'd play with too many toys living at his parent's house. Couldn't imagine what his elderly mom would do if she burst in his room to see him naked, in bed, on his hands and knees with a pink silicon dong poking out of his ass, power cord running to the wall outlet.
On Thursday I emailed him again, but this time I suggested that if weekends were a big problem we could also get together on weeknights if it was planned a few days ahead because some evenings I had gobs of reading to do. I also told him to consider that he was invited to stay overnight then drive directly to work the next morning. We could get together for a couple hours, or even just one hour.
He never told me the name of their store but using Maps I think I figured out what tire store was theirs and the listing said they operated 9am to 6pm Monday to Saturday. One morning before work I drove up there to see if his car was in the lot, then I wrote down his license plate and texted it to Tim to get an address.
He texted me back: 113 Independence Avenue, Palm Harbor, Florida. But I could never tell Carlo I did that.
Friday.
The day I hungered for finally arrived, I think I was slightly erect all afternoon. I hadn't wanked in five days, it was so bad I got turned on just watching myself dress in the closet door mirror. I went to bed almost every night with fantasies about what might happen if both of us were extremely horny and willing to do whatever each other wanted. Late that afternoon I had a hard time focusing on work thinking about his body and how it tasted. I left work at 4:50pm and went home, showered, packed up stuff and raced down to the harbor and went for my daily run, then showered and waited for him to call.
Carlo arrived at 6:45pm in his work uniform (the tire store closed at 6pm), he texted en-route then parked his car in the member's lot across the street. I had to let him through the gate. He arrived in a two-tone gray uniform, shirt unbuttoned at the top exposing lots of smooth brown flesh. On his chest above the shirt pocket was a white oval patch that said 'Carlos' in cursive. He had what looked like a wiener in his pants, I hoped he didn't look like that all the time. He smelled like a hard working man and looked tired and in need of a shower.
While we walked along the perimeter of the harbor it started to sprinkle outside and we heard thunder in the distance over the bay. The sky to the east looked dark gray and the bay disappeared into a large area of heavy rain and lightning.
On the boat we changed into shorts and tank tops, grabbed our towels and jogged back to the men's bathroom in a light rain. I already had bathroom gear for him in a ziploc bag. When I told him not to bring anything I don't think he really understood that I already purchased everything he'd need here. But he always arrived with some small bag of stuff he never used. For all I knew he had a Glock 45 in his case, but he always carried some sort of case with him.
We went together to the bathrooms where I used two five-dollar bills for two power washes. His finished first, then a minute later mine timed out and we emerged smiling, wet, and clean. After getting into marina appropriate shorts and shirts we ambled back around to the Susan. I think I faintly heard him whistle Pop Goes the Weasel in the other pay-per-shower unit while I was in mine.
The way Susan was tied up to the pier we boarded via the back end of the boat from a small platform mounted to the pier (in this marina the piers floated very low above the water). It's three steps up with railings on the sides, then three steps forward, then a one foot gap, then you stepped onto the back end of the boat and grabbed the deck railing. With two feet on the fiberglass back end you stepped once down onto the bench and another onto the deck. Getting on board Susan via the back stairs was awkward and I'd never invite someone that wasn't sure footed to try it. The Petersons beside me had their steps on the side, theirs was sort of like a pool ladder (upside down V) with railings. Most of these smaller boats were not wheelchair accessible. If you had to load someone in a wheel chair the best way was to either carry them or sail to the seawall by the marina gas pumps and board over the side where the deck would be almost the same level as the walkway. But it would still take two men to lift and lower the wheel chair to the deck. Some people with regular handicapped visitors purchased motorized lifts that was like a tiny crane. Heaven forbid the power went out while they were on board.
On the way back to Susan we discussed dinner as we walked in the dark on the wet seawall.
"Let's order, what you Jonesin' fer, anythin' special?"
"Hmmmm, anything?"
"Yep, anything."
"Anything huh? My most favs are prime rib with veggies, or a big steak fajita platter with lots of sauce and a stack of tortillas, and another one is smoked pork ribs, corn on the cob with lots of butter and salt. Oh and beers to wash it down."
"What's your favorite beer?" I asked.
"Probably Miller Lite, or maybe Coors Lite, they're similar. I also like Red Stripe but it's expensive." Then he added that he was not a big fan of Mexican beers.
His list made me laugh and hungry at the same time. I pulled my cell out and searched the delivery app for ribs and corn on the cob and found a place near the hotels with delivery. Although walking and ordering was a trick, I got him to stop at a bench so I could sit down and order everything he wanted (but they didn't have stuffed J-peppers so I got fried mozzarella sticks instead, with extra hot dipping sauce). Delivery time was 95 minutes but it was worth the wait. Total for our order was sixty eight bucks including taxes and delivery. I double checked the address for our boat was correct then I decided to pay the tip in cash so I could award fast and correct delivery. I already had drinks for us onboard.
At REI I found these thick plastic stemless wine glasses for camping, so I got three delivered since glass was verboten on boats (except as windows).
Walking along the seawall Carlo asked how deep the water was outside the wall, which was Tampa Bay. I told him you can see the bottom during the day, it looked like maybe three feet but during storms those shallow bays can kick up some huge waves. That was the reason why the concrete and steel wall was built to protect the harbor. I told him the water was about eleven feet deep around the piers, it was much deeper in some areas, like the main waterways and around the largest boats.
He said we should walk over to that pier and check them out sometime, he'd love to tour one someday.
We sat in our damp shorts on the back deck watching and waiting for our food knowing we had over an hour to wait. I pointed out that it looked like my neighbors were there but hiding in their cabin. Their lights were on and the AC running but we saw no signs of life on their party deck.
We were both super hungry and discussed the order, I got each of us a full rack of ribs with spicy BBQ sauce that place was well known for. Another band of heavy rain arrived while we were waiting so we went inside and kept an eye on the app while we talked. Carlo opened a roll of paper towels and tore off twenty sheets so we'd be ready for a messy feast. When the rain slowed a bit we decided to go back on deck and watched the app and the lightning. I interrupted him:
"Oh hey, that reminds me, the new deck cover's here!" I said pointing outside, but he never noticed. He said we should lower two sides if it got bad again so the seats would dry out. Ten minutes later it got worse so we went back on deck and opened the velcro straps and unrolled two side curtains, left the back wide open so we could get on the pier quickly. They unrolled and snapped in place along the bottom and blocked the wind and rain, it made our voices sound weird being enclosed by plastic and canvas curtains.
"How was your day?" I asked after we fastened two side curtains and sat on the wet cushion near the ladder that went over the side to the pier.
"Busy, one of our guys got hurt, he sliced his hand really bad and needed stitches at the urgent care so I had to take over for him, but we sold a mountain of tires. Our supplier made three deliveries, which was unusual. But like I said, we sold a bunch of tires. I think the final count was 122 out the door!"
"What's a normal day?"
"Around sixty a day."
"Wow, that's a lot of tires!"
"Yes, we move a lot of rubber. We're one of the top selling tire shops west of Tampa, people come to us because we're friendly, fast, and priced a little below the chain stores. We're a bit below Discount Tire, but they treat their customers like crap."
"In what way?"
"Once they get your information they'll keep pestering you for more business, your other vehicle, refer your friends, etc. We only call if you ask and we still sell more."
"How'd your guy cut his hand?"
"One car had a damaged rim, and when he slid his hand around the rim a metal spur sliced him to the bone like a razor blade. They stitched him up but said he's need special surgery to re-attach one of the tendons. It's really fucked-up."
"Will he be alright?"
"Yep, but he's gone for weeks for surgery and rehab, but we were interviewing anyway, Mom does most of that, she reads people like a legit Gypsy fortune teller!"
We both chuckled at his description and glanced outside then both reached for my cell to check the delivery status. I batted his hand to the side and quickly snatched it and we laughed again. I slid my finger across the front checked the countdown timer; 21 minutes. I handed it to him in case he still wanted to see.
"Ready for a brewski?
"Sure, a pre-beer beer!" He said with a large smile. We both walked down into the cabin, I lifted the lid and reached in and pulled out two nearly frozen Coors Banquets in brown bottles. He opened them and poured 'em into our plastic wine glasses and we sat back on deck by the helm and listened to the rain hit the new canvas. It was raining hard and started to thunder outside. I reminded him there was no dishwasher here, so he needed to remember his glass. Mine was plain, his had an REI logo impressed in the side. Carlo said he'd drink from the bottle if that would help.
"I don't want to turn on the radio in case the delivery guy doesn't update us and was wandering around searching for Pier K, Slip 4."
"I'm cool with that." Then we had a moment of silence, you could feel both of us were thinking what to say next.
With nothing else I could think of to say I asked him, "I got a tire question for you. If I owned a riding mower that needed a new tire could you order one and install it for me?"
Carlo smiled and said, "...it had to be pre-ordered, it would take a week to get and there was an extra charge for the manual change of a tire on a rim that didn't fit on any of our machines."
I asked how hard it was to change an odd tire and he said they'd done semi tires on weird rims too, it took a tool sort of like a large slide hammer and a weird type of pick axe, but yes they can do almost any tire. He said manually changing a tire like on the front of a semi tractor was hard work but they did several a year. He said his dad was great at those but he hasn't changed a semi tire, a `ten hundred/twenty' size in almost five years but they got the tools. Their prices for new rubber in 10.00/20 was usually lower than the truck stops but they had an extra labor fee. He also said one of their balancers handled 10:00/20 tires and rims.
"You give any thought to sailing the canal?"
"Yes and no. No because it would be impossible to cover me for two months, I'd have to quit, and I don't even want to think about the rest of that issue." He took in a deep breath, "But yes, because it sounds like the trip of a life, taking a long voyage to unknown places, new people, new sights, the Panama Canal, and seeing lots of Central America, the homeland of my ancestors, maybe I'd finally get to meet my uncle. I could see it being scary and cool sailing into the unknown but having the guts to do it anyway, wow!"
"I like your answer, and I'm glad you're thinking about it. Just so you know I'm probably leaving early February, you're invited and I'll pay all your expenses. If you can do it fine, if not, that's fine too, no hard feelings, okay?"
"No problem. It's not over yet. I'm already talking to Mom about it. I'm also thinking about other stuff."
"Like?" I asked.
"Like, maybe I should leave Florida too. If I stayed I'll be a slave to my parents and the tire store for the rest of my life. By the time she retires my best days will be gone and I'll have nothing but scarred hands and a small 401k to show for it. And they're not paying me for what I do anyway. They cheat me because they can get away with it, like maybe they feel I owe them for living in their empty bedroom, despite all the work I do at home too. And I think maybe they under-pay me because I'm gay which to them means no grandkids, which also means I'm a failure."
I stared into his eyes and at his face, he stared at the table top with sort of a mild look of upset on his face, then I added, "One thing to remember, as long as you're with me you won't need a job, just be your positive and honest self and I'll cover all your costs, even if you get sick, okay?"
"Yeah I'm glad you said that. I'm a little uncomfortable with that, because I don't know what that means, especially coming from a lawyer. No offense but you guys are well known for speaking in fine print with words that have double meanings."
"Let me say this, if I wanted to I could retire today and spend the rest of my life sailing around the world and never run out of money, it wouldn't change the numbers much if it was two people instead of just me."
"So how rich are you?" He asked. I told him I wouldn't mention numbers unless we were engaged but I could say it was a lot by anyone's standards.
"That's fine, but you're inviting me to take a huge risk and make a big change in my life but I have no way of knowing if you're telling me the truth. I think that's a big stretch expecting me to trust you at your word but you're not trusting me at mine. You trust me enough to invite me to sail with you and live with you in California but not enough to see a number? I won't tell anyone, I swear."
His speech really hit home but I thought he was correct, I had to come up with a way of proving to him that I really had enough in the bank to retire both of us today. Then Carlo spoke again, "Just so you know if I decide to go with you it could take a while to officially commit because of my family situation." I reached over and gently gripped his hands which were clasped together on his lap. We both smiled, then the phone buzzed.
This time he grabbed it super fast and swiped the screen, "They're running early, thirteen minutes left." Then he typed a reply and put down the cell, I watched it until the screen went dark. "It said the delivery guy was standing in the kitchen waiting for my order, should be walking out the door in one minute."
While he was using the cell I reminded him about what he said in Key West, 'Remember one thing you said to me in Key West, wouldn't it be nice to live every day like this?'
"Oh yeah, like a small king on a big sailboat."
"The trip to California would be two months of that."
He looked at me with a big smile so I reminded him, "Remember the suntan lotion massage on the bench?" We both glanced over at the spot to our right that was now wet from the falling rain.
"Yes I do, quite well." He said moving his tongue around in his mouth as he tried hard not to smile much.
"Every day."
"Okay, I got it, but the big issue for me is my parents and the business, I can't just walk out. The tire store is the central part of their lives so quitting the store is the same as quitting the family. I have to find a way to leave with Mom's blessing."
"Dude, I totally get it, you do what's right." I said with a smile.
It felt like the wind had picked-up and the sound of mast ropes really increased and the forest of sailboat masts around us really started swaying side to side. We both stood up and looked around at all the flags and pennants sticking straight out in the wind. "Maybe we should jog to the marina building and wait for him there." Carlo suggested.
We had about ten minutes until the delivery car was due, so I quickly grabbed my laptop and fired it up and logged into my bank and asked Carlo to come over and look at something on the screen. I connected into the welcome screen where is showed all my accounts combined, the total on deposit was: $6,727,531.33. I told him that should more than double in January. He was speechless after he said `thanks.' I disconnected and put the computer away.
We grabbed our hats and left the back deck and jogged to the Yacht Club building in the wind, rain, and lightning. While we ran on the seawall that divided the harbor from the bay a big wave crashed into it and drenched our legs and feet but we kept running. I saw the marina and the university both had storm warning flags up, it looked like the storm had intensified, which was rare after they crossed the peninsula. It looked like we had over twenty five mile an hour winds now, that's enough to make your patio umbrella disappear.
While we were waiting for the car I asked him (because he seemed quiet after seeing that number), "What happens to car tires after you buy new ones?"
Carlo sighed and told me not to repeat what he said. "People think tires can be recycled but the truth is that's really not true in the classic recycle sense, like with glass and paper. Some are partially ground down into powder to be added to new tires or other rubber stuff, the thing to remember is rubber cannot be re-melted down like plastics or steel and turned into other things, so they're partially ground into a powder. Some are chopped into tiny chunks and burned as fuel, and some are chopped into tiny chunks as rubber filler on playgrounds under the swings." Then he added, "The most common question I get is how to make them last longer. I always tell people to check air pressure once a month, look for the pressure rating that's molded into the side of every tire sold in America. Check and add air as needed but don't wash car tires. Just check the pressures and leave them alone, that's the best way to get the most mileage out of car tires. He said, "They may get all ugly and discolored but that film is there to protect them from sunlight and ozone, maybe splashes of gasoline too."
He paused for a moment then said that properly inflated tires protected themselves from rubber's biggest enemies, those were: high heat, ozone, UV light, and solvents like dry cleaning fluid (perchloretheleyne).
Eight minutes later our ribs arrived in three bags in thick foil wrappers. I told the driver the extra tip was for good communication, I gave him thirty bucks because he gave us good service and no bullshit. We walked to the doors and looked at each other for a sign, with smiles we nodded and burst out the doors and took off running back to Susan. I shouted to him the piers were slick. The wind was loud and the rain hurt blasting us in the face, he ripped off his hat and ran without it, but mine was pulled down enough to be almost too tight on my skull, we made the first turn to the long (almost) straight away, almost 400 feet of concrete pier, a ten foot wide sidewalk with boats tied up beside us and the small creek on the other side of the walkway.
While we were running back in the hard rain he shouted, "The thing to remember is you can only vulcanize rubber one time but most people don't know what that means!"
We made the turn onto the seawall and then it's the last two hundred feet to the second pier, then we're the third boat on the left. I shouted again to be careful on the pier. We climbed the stairs, stepped onto Susan, then down onto the back deck then down into the cabin laughing. The room immediately filled with the scent of BBQ sauce and smoked pork. My mouth was already salivating. I stepped back up the stairs and looked at the new canvas cover and sidewalls, it seemed to be taking the wind as designed, so while he unpacked the food I lowered the back curtain and snapped it along the bottom, velcro strips down the corners.
After arranging our food on the table Carlo pulled off his wet clothes and carefully spread them across the sofa, so I took mine off too and wrung my shirt over the sink then across the sofa cushions. It was nice to be able to eat and admire his body too. I plugged in the fan to blow on our clothes, then I turned on the radio at a low volume to a station he liked. Above the table I turned the light up on the brightest setting.
Carlo ate like he was actually starved, he started before I got seated. We ate our ribs on the foil they came wrapped in, the beer bottles emptied fast. I kept glancing at his chest wondering what his flesh would taste like with BBQ sauce smeared across them.
The announcer on the radio referred to how they played the queens of country music and cited Dolly Parton which made me cough loudly.
"I think Dolly Parton sounds like Alvin and the Chipmunks."
"Hey now!" he admonished me. I pulled four more paper towels off the roll and set them on the table. The pile of used and crumpled paper towels had really grown.
I told Carlo her voice was super annoying but I really liked Charlie Pride and wondered why he had such a gay stage name. He chuckled while gnawing on a rib bone and kept biting pork off the bones, his fingers covered in BBQ sauce. While I had one at my mouth my eyes kept glancing at his big beautiful tits, it was almost like having dinner with a topless woman.
We were both on our third beers and our ribs were almost gone, the pace of eating had definitely slowed. The pile of bare rib bones was twice as high now. We stacked them like a Jenga tower and dared each other to be the one that made the stack fall. Then Carlo covered his mouth and belched loudly, we both laughed.
Gradually our eating slowed, we both ate our two ears of corn after I re-warmed them in the microwave. The corn cobs were cooked smoked too, I've never had smoked corn before, it was nice, the smoke smell and corn was a great combination. We were done eating by 9pm, which was a long f-ing meal! But we had a great time. I told Carlo it was not considered rude to belch after a large meal and beers, he laughed and said his father punched him at the table once for doing it.
Again, I had a quick mental image of young Carlo belching loudly at the dinner table in front of his parents and showing up at school the next morning with a bruised cheek and a black eye. We opened one of the side dish cups then closed it and put everything in the cooler with the beer. We never touched the cheese sticks or the other sides.
I gathered our trash and set the bags on the back deck, the leftovers went in the cooler, we sat there in our damp underwear drinkin' beers and tellin' stories. Carlo asked if we should sit on the sofa but I told him I preferred the table so I could admire his body. That made him smile and look embarrassed, then he told me about some of his worst customers recently and I told him about some of the dumbest stuff people have admitted during a deposition.
While we talked he stretched his upper body a few times, twisting side to side and doing something like isometric stretching with his hands behind his head which pushed his chest out towards me and caused my dick to inflate a little.
I changed the subject back to the long voyage and told him about the primary ports and got out the maps I had that covered from here to Panama City. He said he always wanted to see Cozumel. It's a great dive spot, I told him we could spend a few days there. I softly told him I'd love it if he could go but he had no comment to my comment. Carlo said his Uncle Miguel Silva lived on Cozumel, but he didn't know much about him other than he was his father's oldest brother but he wasn't sure exactly how he was related but he's seen pictures of him since he was a kid because his mother and his uncle wrote a few letters a year.
By 11pm we were both blitzed after eight beers each and I knew nothing was going to happen tonight which was a disappointment, but at least we had a fantastic evening together. I hoped this time might help persuade him to take a chance on life and come away with me, and maybe stay with me in California after the voyage too.
During our conversation he asked how my money was going to double and I reminded him my mother would be gone soon, I would get their estate, my dad was a successful lawyer too. He got a weird look on his face I couldn't understand.
Seconds later he smiled and nodded and we dropped the subject. After another swig of beer he mumbled and said his checking account had lots of zeros too, but no commas.
He asked where my money came from and I told him I won suits against some big companies.
I wished I could have told him that after Mom died my wealth would soar from seven million to almost twelve million, so I was already set for life and I could easily afford both of us.
While we were discussing money I told Carlo if he lived with me and didn't want a job I'd pay him an allowance in cash that was more than he earned now. I'd provide him with a car, insurance, and within reason almost anything else he wanted. In return I expected monogamy, some help around the house (but he would not be the maid), honesty, and that we work together to further our relationship. We could look into marriage later in life if we decided to do that. He just smiled and nodded yes, then he asked, "What's in it for you?"
"For me? The enjoyment of your company and friendship, our sex, your body, my body, and the pleasure of watching you grow into a great guy, and maybe you'll go to college and become the master of something that interests you."
Carlo asked, "What could get me fired from that position?"
I quickly replied with, "You get arrested for something like narcotics, theft, murder, rape, or say you wanted out, or you caught an STD but didn't know how, or tried to steal from me, or something that made me no longer trust you, like punching me like your father hit you, or threatening me."
"Huh." He said scratching the side of his jaw. I closely watched his eyes because I learned as a lawyer to do that to see if someone was being dishonest. But Carlo never looked deceitful, my best guess was I just made him an offer he found very attractive. We changed the subject a few more times and I had him use the toilet on board instead of us running to the men's room in a bad storm.
No matter how drunk we were sitting across the table from him, under bright light, looking at his naked upper body, I was turned on the entire time. I wondered if he felt the same way.
While we talked about money he got out his cell and did some touching on the screen, watched it, slid right, and waited a bit more then turned it to face me. I squinted and looked at his screen, it was for a personal account at Chase Bank, it showed combined check and savings, he had $4,575.41 in both accounts. I felt bad for showing him mine, then I asked him if I could give him cash for Christmas and he smiled and said, `Sure!"
He went on talking about when he was in the Navy at Great Lakes and people he met, stuff he saw. He worked in supply so he dealt with truck drivers and delivery guys all the time. He said most of them were very dishonest so he had to learn to speak the way they did. Then after the Navy he had to find a way to get that crap out of his head.
For a while we drank beers and talked about movies and TV shows we liked. I told him I didn't watch TV but again he didn't ask why.
Later came the yawns. By then it was almost midnight and we were both exhausted and he already put in a long day doing manual labor, so I escorted us to the front bunk after I made sure everything was shut off.
While we were getting ready for bed I asked him, "I was wondering, when you take off your shirt in front of me do you think to yourself that it turns me on?"
Carlo smiled and looked away briefly and said, "Sometimes, and the same goes for you. It may be my chest for you but it's your butt and the bulge in your underwear for me."
We both stripped off our damp underwear and slipped between the soft cotton sheets. I had made the bed so the sheets were super flat and tight, like a hotel room. When it looked like both of us were ready I killed the light under the cabinet above me. I got on my side facing him across the mattress and told him, "You could just stay with me for a long as you wanted, even after the trip. I'm going to rent an apartment and keep this boat at a marina. And in case I forgot I wanted to say I'm really happy you're here. I love watching you smile and have a good time and get the chance to relax and unwind."
"This was a great end to a fucked-up day, I really appreciate it." He said then leaned his head over and placed a smooch on my mouth. His breath smelled like beer and BBQ sauce. He had a very happy/relaxed smile on his face as we got into bed.
We snuggled together, I spooned behind him and rubbed my hand across his chest and gently tweaked his tits and in a very short time I heard him softly snore. Moments later I was gone too with the smell of his damp hair in my nose.
That final moment awake together spooned in bed made all the time and expense worthwhile, even without fucking. As I drifted off to sleep I considered that on his next visit when we might have a huge feast dinner we should fuck while we waited for delivery.
Lesson learned: A dinner with sautéed mushrooms in gravy didn't always translate into mushroom head and boy sauce in my mouth after dinner.
Saturday.
The boat rocked and the rain fell all night, it woke me up a few times for a couple minutes. We both woke around 8am. I told him we could go out for breakfast or whatever he wanted. He used his cell to find the nearest breakfast buffet and we decided to go there so we took turns shaving and brushing teeth. I paused to lift the floor hatch and check the bilge (it was dry). While he was in the bathroom with the door shut I quickly opened his small zipper bag but found no weapons, just bathroom stuff like; Tylenol, phone charger, and a red Swiss Army knife.
After he was ready we locked up and ran to my car, he was surprised to see I drove a twenty year old Toyota instead of a German car.
We drove to Russell's for the all you can eat buffet. We sat there talking for almost an hour but the storm kept the crowds away and the waitress kept our mugs full. I tipped her lots more than I usually tipped a waitress.
He asked why I didn't drive a nice German car. I explained that the 1998 Toyota Rav4, two door, four wheel drive, six cylinder gas engine, with the removable hard top was a rare collector's car, now worth four times what it sold for new. Carlo asked what it sold for new and I said I thought it was around fifteen grand back then, which was pretty high but it had the six cylinder engine which was special order. I told him it was built in Japan and originally sold new in Honolulu, I bought it at an online auction with eighteen thousand miles in pristine condition, and I was the second owner.
"Why would anyone need a four by four in Hawaii, driving on the beach?" He asked.
"It rains there a lot, like Panama. Hawaii is hilly and some of the streets are steep, if you don't have four wheel drive your tires just spin on the wet pavement. Your car could get part way up a hill then slide back down uncontrolled into another car or a pedestrian."
"Oh yeah, that makes sense. I never thought about that. When I think of four wheel drive my brain always pictures mud and snow," he declared. I told him it was common problem for hilly places with tropical climates.
Back at the boat we took our clothes off and hung them on hangers and aimed a fan at them. I sat on the sofa and gestured for him to move closer. I pulled down the front of his underwear and took him in my hand and within sixty seconds he was fully hard and soon after that I licked the head and tasted his salty pre-come. He couldn't keep his hands away and started to wank it by the roots, then he pulled out of my mouth and stroked it hard with his fist bouncing against my lips most of the time. I tried to keep my tongue out a lot to catch his juices, then he closed his eyes and whimpered, I saw his nuts had pulled up and was about to come so I held my mouth open, tongue out like a conveyor belt.
Once his orgasm started with those seconds of bliss before pumping he let go and pushed it back inside my mouth and relaxed his body. I watched his nut sack twitch as he came with my lips sealed around the rim. I noticed he trimmed his pubes too. One of the things I liked about his dick was his head was rather large and it felt very nice in my mouth, Carlo had a beautiful dick. I should take close up photos of it someday.
After he was done he stood there still in my mouth and hugged my head and caressed my skull and combed my hair with his fingers to show affection. I think he stayed partially erect for almost five minutes afterward.
When it began to shrink he gently backed up, I watched it slowly emerge, then it fell out into the air and bounced in front of me. My eyes went up to his belly button and admired his sexy body.
Carlo grabbed my arms and lifted me, we kissed by the sofa for a few minutes. I felt his semen in my mouth (he never had much flavor). I kept my hands on his butt cheeks, then he stepped back and turned me around after he sat on the edge of the sofa and took me in his mouth. Later he told me I had a string of pre-come swaying from the tip when he uncovered mine and started to work me the same way, but I didn't stroke it.
I felt it start after a few minutes. My fingers dug into his thick black hair as I micro-humped his face. With my eyes closed he stroked mine by hand and worked the head in his mouth. I warned him when it started and clenched my teeth as I came three spurts in his mouth. Just after it ended he stood and we shared my semen between our mouths and both swallowed. Then we hugged, he put his head on my shoulder and we held onto each other for nearly ten minutes, standing in the main cabin between the table and the sofa just softly humming and holding onto each other.
After I stepped back I told him that was a great breakfast and he said he could hardly wait for lunch! We stood holding each other for a little bit, I rubbed my thumbs across his marshmallowy tits while we talked about breakfast and how he thought the waitress was flirting. We shared a cold bottle of water.
Contact the author: borischenaz gmail
Note from the author: How do I write these books?
I use an older Dell laptop running Windows 8 Pro (with updates shut off) and Microsoft Word ver. 7. I frequently use Google Maps and I also use Wikipedia and a hardbound Oxford Dictionary along with an Oxford American Writer's Thesaurus. There is a small group of people that I email for help with certain words and phrases (English used to be a second language for me).
While writing I often listen to music by Patrick O'Hearn and other New Age composers and performers (Deuter, Liquid Mind, B-Tribe, and Yanni).
I have Word set so it looks like amber monitors on computers in the 1980s and early 1990s in the era before VGA graphics (background set to black and font color set to amber).
Proof reading is done on a third generation Amazon Kindle Keyboard because my eyes don't notice most mistakes on the computer screen, not sure why. I save the document as plain text and transfer it into the Kindle then relax in bed with an old dictation recorder (Radio Shack micro cassette recorder) and do my proofreading.
For a backup computer I own a Microsoft Surface Pro laptop but I prefer the older Dell because I don't trust Windows 10 privacy.