Ty & Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love-Part 2 - Sex Stories

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Ty & Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love-Part 2

Date: 11/23/2014, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Consensual Sex, Death, Romance, Teen Male/Teen Female, Author: senorlongo, Rating: 78.8, Source: sexstories.com

Damn you to hell! You’re even worse than your father.” Then he lashed out with his other foot, striking me in the chest. The blow didn’t hurt, but I was shocked. I let go of his foot then watched as my only grandfather slid down the side of the boat. His head struck the steel rail at the waterline and somersaulted into the water. He slid along the side until disappearing under the boat near the stern. I ran back as quickly and safely as I could. Had there been any doubt of his demise they vanished when the boat shook from the impact with his body and the water turned red with his blood. I’d read about people being sucked in by the props; now I’d seen it for myself. I made my way back to the cockpit, feeling my way, barely able to see through my own blood. I had no idea where we were or how to get back to the dock. Taking the radio microphone in my hand I pressed the button. “Help! Help! I need help.” “This is the Marlboro. Don’t you know anything about radio protocol?” Pressing the button again I continued, “No—I’m an eighteen year-old kid from Indiana. I’m on the shrimp boat Emma Mae somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. My grandfather is dead—over the side. He shot me. My head is bleeding. I’m getting dizzy. There’s a mate, but he’s tied up. He tried to kill me, too.” I released the button so I could listen. “Coast Guard calling Emma May… Coast Guard calling Emma May… Coast Guard calling Emma May; this is the Coast Guard,” another different voice said. “Can you find a compass ... there? Over.” “Okay, we’re heading west. Uh…over.” “Turn the boat slowly toward the north. I suggest you slow down to about ten miles an hour. It’ll be easier to control the boat. We’re launching a chopper. Can you find the flares? Over.” I ran back to my backpack and removed my sweatshirt. Wiping it over my forehead helped and I held it tightly over my wound then I looked around for flares. I found the kit about a minute later bolted to the wall—uh, the bulkhead. “Okay, I found them. Now what? We’re heading north. Over.” “Good…what’s your name? Over.” I understood now—saying “over” meant you were done speaking. “I’m Ty…Ty Feldner. Over.” “You’re doing great, Ty. Just hang in there. What I want you to do now is hold down the button for sixty seconds. That’ll enable us to find your position. Can you do that? Over.” “Sure, but something else will have to go. I have one hand on the wheel and my other is switching between the radio and my sweatshirt to hold back the blood. I’ll drop the sweatshirt. Okay, here goes starting now. One…two…three….” I continued until I had reached sixty then released the button. “That was great, Ty. We have you now. Find a smoke flare and light it once you hear the chopper. Don’t light it in the cabin. You can throw it onto the deck. It won’t set the boat on fire. Is there a stool or captain’s chair? If so, sit down.” Spying one in the hallway to the chart room I reached back to pull it forward. It was a relief to sit. Truthfully, I didn’t know how much ...