Gone Fishing

Those thirty seconds or so had been incredible, and I wanted Jason to shut up because I had gotten into that position of my own free will. I relished the manly and not-unpleasant manly aroma coming from the soft fur that day, as well as the thrill of being under Mr. Simpson's control like that. I had also hoped that he hadn't noticed the bulge in my pants, along with praying he didn't realize how much that turned me on no matter how weird it seemed.

As I stared, I realized that Mr. Simpson had been watching me, and while my mouth had been busy working, my eyes were obviously elsewhere. Mr. Simpson nodded almost imperceptibly, and I wasn't even positive that he had nodded at all, but after I took my mouth off his nipple and began nibbling my way over to his armpit, the hand cradling the back of my scalp made it clear that what I was about to do was more than alright by him.

As I buried my face into the hot and moist thicket, licking and sucking and chewing like an animal, I stopped stroking Mr. Simpson's cock and simply held it loosely. About a minute later I felt his throbbing cock surge in my grasp as the gentle giant let out a roar, and only after he went limp in my hand did I look down at the ropes of cum that were strung all over his stomach and chest.

I suspect my face was red and not only because of the exertion I had put out lavishing affection on Mr. Simpson, but he was flushed as well, and after he let go of my scalp he chuckled while apologizing.

"I know I'm strange," Mr. Simpson said as we untangled from the awkward position we were in. "You probably don't remember this, but one time when we were fishing..."

I cut him off at that point, and after I told him everything about that day, right down to the color of the tank-top he was wearing, h acknowledged that I did indeed remember that playful headlock. He hadn't known that I had been the one that maneuvered myself into that position.

"That explains how it was so easy to get you there," Mr. Simpson laughed, and after I explained that while I hadn't had much experience in my brief life, I always had been attracted to guy's armpits, mone more so that bushy ones like his were, and as long as they didn't smell stale I loved to show affection there.

"Amazing," Mr. Simpson confessed, explaining that he had done the same thing back in his younger days with guys, and even admitted that he had always nibbled under his wife's arms while lamenting, "She won't come near mine though."

With Mr. Simpson on his back, I climbed up to my hands and knees and took it upon myself to clean the mess I had helped create, licking the strings of semen that had begun to cool, savoring the sweet taste of his seed along with the feel of the hair against my tongue.

As I finished up cleaning Mr. Simpson off, he started to move me around so that I was on top of him, facing the opposite direction. I felt my balls getting gobbled up one at a time, and with his flaccid cock within reach, I pulled the limp tube up from between his legs and began to lick it.

Because I was smaller in stature than Mr. Simpson and my cock was stiff again and arching up towards my stomach, I assumed my dick was out of his reach as I hovered over him, but what Mr. Simpson mouth and tongue was doing was fantastic.

Along with sucking on my balls, Mr. Simpson was letting his tongue slid up and down the ridge that runs from the base of my scrotum down toward my ass. I was so busy trying to control what was a big floppy dick that felt like jello that I didn't notice how far his tongue was going until it reached my balloon knot.

"Omigod," I groaned as I felt my friend's Dad burrow inside of me, sending chills throughout my entire body and causing me to let go of his cock because I was afraid I would bite it my mistake.

Mr. Simpson's tongue felt like a snake as it probed into me. I contented myself with squeezing his balls while running my tongue along the vein-riddled underside of his cock below my face, a cock that was getting harder every second.

The room was spinning around me, so unaccustomed was I to what I was experiencing down below, and it was just as well that I was in this sort of euphoric state because I didn't really realize what was happening other that the fact that it felt good.

Mr. Simpson's tongue was replaced by a finger, and then a second digit was forced into my ass, spinning and churning in between bringing his tongue back into my orifice. My cock was so hard it was curled up against my stomach as I felt Mr. Simpson's hands on my hips, effortlessly lifting me off of him and onto my stomach where he lifted my hips up.

"Want you so bad," I heard Mr. Simpson mutter as I tried to lift my face out of the bedding while he climbed behind me and put his finger back in me, a finger that felt slick and cool.

By the time I realized what was going on I felt him pushing inside of me. It felt like Mr. Simpson entire hand was going up into me, but it wasn't bone but flesh.

I let out a howl that was probably muffled by the pillow my mouth was full of as I belatedly realized what was happening. Mr. Simpson's huge manhood was sliding inside an orifice that prior to a few minutes ago had only experienced a finger my entire life, and a timid one at that. It hurt at first, and I might have even cried a bit, but as Mr. Simpson wrapped his arms around me and embraced me, the pain eased.

It only lasted a couple of minutes, but as Mr. Simpson thrust into me harder and deeper with each stroke, I found myself wanting more. I wanted him hard and deep, and although I had lost my erection when he first penetrated me, when Mr. Simpson's hand came down around and grabbed my cock I got hard again fast.

I think I came a split-second before Mr. Simpson did, but as I sprayed a load all over the sheets I heard Mr. Simpson groan loud as a soothing warmth filled my bowels.

"Are you okay, Steve?" I heard Mr. Simpson say as I collapsed onto the messy bedding, but I assured him I was and asked him to stay where he was, right on top of me because I barely felt his weight, so taken was I by the feel of his hairy, sweaty body against me.

"Ooh!" I sighed when I felt the head of Mr. Simpson's dick pop out of me as he went limp, and we stayed like that until we decided that a shower was in order.

We took the shower together, a long, warm and relaxing experience where we cleaned and lovingly explored each other's bodies in the cramped tub, and it lasted so long that I was hard again by the end.

"Take me," Mr. Simpson said as he bent over and grabbed the rim of the tub. "Take me like I took you."

That was my first time at the giving end of course, and while it was satisfying, after it was over and Mr. Simpson asked me how it was I had to be honest.

"I really like it better the other way," I said, and not only because it was the way it should be, with the dominant man in control and me his for the taking.

I liked it better that way because of the way it made me feel no matter how anatomically impossible it seemed that he could get that huge member intothat tiny opening. Despite his incredible size it felt so amazing when he was inside me that I wanted it - and more of it - and I told him so.

"I only wish I was your age," Mr. Simpson said after he assured me that although his spirit was more than willing, his flesh would not be able, at least not that day.

I was able to prove him wrong with my insistent mouth and hands that wouldn't take no for an answer, and that day was only the beginning. My ass was his for the taking, and over the next few years he took my ass every chance he could, because I was always available for him whenever he called.

All through my college years we would meet whenever we could, and I relished him taking me. He was never too rough, and many times I asked him to be even rougher. To this day I can't explain why it was so good with him when with other guys - it just wasn't the same. Not even close. No other tongue and no other cock ever felt the same.

Mr. Simpson got transferred by his company around the time I graduated from college, and although we went our separate ways physically, we remained friends with many wonderful memories of time we spent together. To this day whenever I see something fishing related, I think of Mr. Simpson and smile.

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