Head, Heading, Dead ahead

I once took a gig as a chase boat captain and ended up hooking up with the stewardess on board. During a crossing, just after we left port, she sat down in the helm seat and I started fucking her right there.

She was facing forward and I was fucking her looking aft, while underway. Mid-session, I looked up and realized something wasn’t right—the land that had been behind us had disappeared. We hadn’t been moving that long, so I was confused. Then I checked the heading and saw what had happened: while we were going at it, my ass had nudged the helm a few degrees to port. We’d done a slow, unintentional circle—headed straight back toward land. We laughed it off, straightened course, and kept going.

A couple hours later, round two. This time on the bow. We left the helm unattended, doing 40 knots, and I was down there just eating her out. I kept glancing up between her legs to keep an eye on things, just in case. Good thing I did. One of those glances saved us—there was a sailboat dead ahead. Had I not looked up at that exact moment, we would’ve plowed straight through it. I jumped back to the helm just in time and steered us away. That one shook us up a bit.

Later that night, we stopped mid-crossing and decided to swim. Midnight, open ocean, bioluminescence in the water, satellites overhead, shooting stars—it was actually quite beautiful. One of those unexpected moments you never forget. We slept well and carried on the next day.

What a wild two days.