Not a Fisherman

"Will you need help dressing, Moira?" I asked.

"Dressing, Mike? No, probably not. Getting upstairs? Yes."

"OK, then I'll help you upstairs. Afterwards?"

"I'll take some painkillers. They're in the bathroom. They'll take about a quarter of an hour to work and then I should be OK. I can feel the pain already easing. But I'd like you to stay for the evening meal. I've got a prepared Shepherd's pie in the fridge. I was going to use half for me, but all of it would do for two. Are you doing anything else this evening, Mike? Or could you stay for a meal?"

"If that's what you want, Moira? Then yes. I could stay."

"Good. Now, could we go upstairs please? I'd like the painkillers."

Just before we left the kitchen, Moira took the Shepherd's Pie out of the fridge to warm up before putting in the oven later.

As we climbed the stairs it was obvious that Moira was improving. She held on to the bannister rail but didn't seem to need it. In her bedroom she sat on her bed while I brought the painkillers and a glass of water from the bedroom. She had put her dry clothes beside her. She took the painkillers and then stripped off the tracksuit top to show her bra. Her breasts needed the bra's support because they are so large, but they still looked fantastic to me. Moira saw me looking.

"Come here, Mike. Kneel by the bed." she said.

I did, and within seconds my head was in her cleavage as she wriggled her breasts around my head. She picked up her T-shirt and pulled in down forcing my head deeper in her cleavage. She said something above me that I could hear because my ears were covered by the sides of her breasts. She lifted the T-shirt, pushed my head back slightly and repeated herself.

"Could I fish from your tent, Mike? She asked.

"Yes, Moira. I've got the equipment in the shipping container. I bought from the widow of one of our pensioners' group, but..."

"But?"

"You need two things. One is a permit from the Angling Association, and the second is a Fishing Licence. The second is easy. You can apply and pay on line. It would cost thirty pounds for a year. The permit? I'd have to ring their Chairman. They don't have daily tickets, reserving all the fishing for members. But he would probably make you a basic member if I asked nicely. In the upper sections of the river they have fly-fishing only and there is a long waiting list for that, but at my tent? Anything goes -- in season."

"OK, thank you, Mike. While the meal is cooking, I'll go on line and perhaps you could ring the Angling club chairman. Until then? I want to be the first course..."

She sat on the edge of the bed and wriggled out of the track suit bottoms, before spreading her legs and showing a shaven cleft.

"You're sure?" I asked.

Moira didn't say anything. Her hands cradled my head and pushed it downwards. Soon I was busy arousing her. As she got more and more excited her legs clamped around my head. She lifted her hands and leant forward, resting her breasts on the back of my head before she put her hands under her thighs and squashed me between her cleft and her breasts. I was struggling to breathe as she convulsed above me. Just before I ran out of breath she relaxed her hold and I could pant for breath as she squealed in excitement.

She pulled my head up, closed her legs, and rested my head on them.

"You are good, Mike, even great. But now, the meal needs attention before..."

"Some more? I think you are staying the night. OK?"

"If that's what you want, Moira," I said.

"It is. But now I'll go online to get my licence and you can try ringing the Chairman."

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Downstairs Moira obtained her licence, starting at midnight and printed it off. I rang their Chairman. He was dubious at first but because it was me he arranged for Moira to become a member from midnight too. He took down her details and would email her membership number. I paid for it from my debit card.

That night Moira and I had normal sex, me on top for the first time and she rode me in the early hours. When I woke up she was asleep on my shoulder, but not for long. She was bouncing up and down on me, leaving me exhausted in her bed while she went off to make breakfast.

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By ten o'clock we were back on the river bank in my marquee, having stopped to buy some bait. Moira had brought packed lunches for the two of us. She was pleased with the selection of angling equipment I had in the store. I sat and watched as she started fishing. She hadn't done any for nearly forty years since she used to go fishing with her father, but she hadn't forgotten her father's lessons.

From time to time I made tea or coffee. By lunchtime she had caught four undersized fish that we put back but she was pleased that she had, even if they were too small. About three o'clock she hooked something much larger than she had to treat very gently while I moved a net underneath it. It was a fair sized sea bream. I transferred it to the keep net.

"That is enough," Moira said. "It will do for tonight's dinner."

"Tonight's dinner?" I queried.

"Yes," Moira said. "I've caught it. We'll eat it. And I've caught you too, Mike. I'm not letting you go, either. I want you to eat me, again, and I might reciprocate. But whichever, you're getting more sex -- like now."

Moira pulled me over to the settee, straddled my legs, and gave me bare breasts to nibble and suck.

I may not be an angler. Moira is. She has caught dinner, and me. I have been trapped by her insatiable need for sex and I'm enjoying being caught.

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