The Fishing Trip

"That would do," I replied. "You wouldn't be able to do much then. You wouldn't be able to stop me doing this." I stopped stroking his prick, propped myself up on one elbow and started cradling his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You would be completely at my mercy."

"I would, wouldn't I? You could do whatever you wanted and I couldn't stop you."

This awoke a wicked streak within me. It was as if someone had released the breaks and nothing I wanted to do would be out of bounds. I let go of his balls and stroked the inside of his thigh.

"You can't move, can you?"

"No," he croaked.

"And that means you're completely helpless, completely at my mercy, doesn't it?"

"Yes, completely."

"I could even do this," Once more I cradled his balls with my hand but this time I leaned forward and bent down so that I could kiss the tip of his prick. I heard him gasp as I did so.

A voice at the back of my head was screaming at me. What on earth was I doing, giving Jerry a blow job! What was he going to think of me? Surely I'd pushed things too far. We were just mates, mucking about, weren't we? On the other hand it didn't matter what I did because this didn't mean anything, surely it didn't mean anything. I was just doing this because it was the most teasing thing I could think of, not because... not because... not for any other reason whatsoever. I lifted my head and looked at Jerry and he looked back with a strange expression on his face. Most importantly, his arms and legs were still stretched out towards the four corners of the bed. That reassured me. It was OK, He was still playing along, I hadn't freaked him out and we were still just mates mucking about. I leant down again and ran my tongue along the length of his penis. However, leaning in this way was far too uncomfortable so I scooted down the bed so that I lay between his thighs with my arms resting on his his hips and my face was right over his prick. This way I could use my hand to stroke him and, at the same time, hold it upright so that I could take the tip in my mouth. I'd never wanted to do anything more in my life than I wanted, at that moment, to feel his prick in my mouth. With Jerry "tied up" I could do whatever I liked to him and, if that included making him come, and if he happened to be in my mouth at the time, then so be it. I took him between my lips and bobbed my head up and down.

He was already rock hard and, in almost no time at all, I could sense that he was close to coming.

"Please, Tom," he called out.

I lifted lifted myself up and looked at him. He was still stretched out, still "tied up".

"What's up?" I asked. "Is there something you want?"

"Please, Tom, I don't want to... I don't... I can't hold back much longer."

"And...." It tickled me that he was feeling exactly the same helplessness that I had felt in the boat.

"But I don't want to... please, Tom," like me, he was having problems finding the words.

"What you want and don't want isn't important now, is it?" I said. "You are at my mercy and the only thing that matters is what I want. Isn't that so?"

"Yes," there was a pause, "yes, master," he said in little more than a whisper.

Having him call me master was the icing on the cake and I went back to what I was doing. As my hand stroked his prick and my lips and tongue played with the tip I could once again feel him struggling with something but I had no idea what. I tried taking him deeper into my mouth but my hand got in the way so I stopped stroking him and cupped his balls as I tried, once again, to see how deep I could take him. It wasn't that much. Heaven knows how you're supposed to 'deep throat' because I can't do it, but it was obviously enough because, even with me leaning on him, he suddenly started thrusting his hips at my mouth as if trying to fuck my face. Then he tried to roll away but I was too strong for him and had him pinned down and, to my immense satisfaction, he came, his spunk pumping out of his prick and into my mouth so I was able to swallow every drop. I felt like the cat that had swallowed the cream in more ways than one.

And then it was all over. I lifted myself up again, looked him straight in the face and licked my lips. Then I jumped off the, grabbed the duvet, laid it back on the bed and got in underneath and scooted across. We lay side by side, facing each other.

"Thanks, Jerry," I said, and I meant it.

"I should be thanking you," he replied. "Maybe next time I can tie you up. "Tom," he suddenly got all serious, "Tom, I really...," and then the words died and he went all shy.

"It's OK, I understand, we're best mates and we're just mucking around. It's not as if we're gay, or anything." After all, we didn't want this to get all heavy, did we.

He gave me a long, long look but didn't say anything until, with a sigh, he said "goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight, Jerry, sleep well."

********
Wednesday
********

The next morning it was my turn to wake up first and I went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Just like Jerry I didn't bother to put any clothes on and he was right, it was kind of liberating. It's nice when you know someone so well that you can walk around buck naked without it meaning anything. The whistle of the kettle must have woken Jerry because I was just poring out the coffees when he came and put his arms around me.

"Stop mucking about," I complained. "You'll make me spill the coffee." Even so he reached down and cuddled my balls until I told him, once again, to stop messing around.

We took the mugs through to the living room and sat there, quite naturally, both of us as naked as the day we were born.

"So, who gets to shower first?" Jerry asked. I knew this was no idle question. By now we had found that whoever went second got a lukewarm shower at best and always ended up shaving in cold water. The McTavish water heater just wasn't bit enough for two full showers.

"Well, it's my turn," I said, staking my claim.

"But that means I get a cold shower," Jerry complained.

"Maybe that's what you need, keep that prick of yours under control."

"Hah! As if you're any better. You're so randy you can't even get hard enough to measure it without coming all over the place. We never did get an accurate measurement. What shall we guestimate? Five centimetres?"

"Five centimetres! I'll give you five centimetres!" I exclaimed until, suddenly, I realised how that could have been taken and I blushed from my roots. Jerry, had spotted the double entendre immediately and was almost having a fit he was laughing so much.

"If we showered together we could both have a hot shower," Jerry suggested once he had calmed down.

"What, in that bathroom. We'll never fit."

"I bet we would if we tried. Come on, I'll scrub your back and you can scrub mine. Anyway. I'm off for a shower. You can join me or you can have the cold one." And, with that, he was off.

Well, I wasn't going to have the cold shower two days in a row so I was after him like a flash and, although it took a moment or two to get the temperature right and it was a bit cosy, very soon were were crushed in together into the shower booth. Jerry grabbed the hair shampoo and squeezed out a dollop onto his head before squeezing out another onto mine. However, instead of rubbing the shampoo into his own hair it was my head he reached for, my scalp he started to massage. I suppose it made sense in the confines of the booth so, as he washed my hair, I reached up and washed his.

It was really nice. I loved the feel of his soapy hands on my scalp, and on my neck and on my shoulders. We were so crushed in together that it was hard to reach our stomachs so Jerry took the shower gel, poured out a generous dollop, put it on his chest and then started to rub against me. He put his hands around my back and we slid our soapy bodies together. I've no idea how clean it was getting us but it felt like heaven. I'm not sure why but it made me rock hard and my erection was standing straight upright. But then, that was OK because so was his. He reached down between us and took both our pricks in his hand, holding them together. As the water cascaded over us he rubbed our pricks up and down and it felt just fine.

"Do you like that," he asked.

"Do you have to ask," I replied. Surely he could feel how hard I was.

"I guess not. Now it's your turn. You do it." He let go, found my hand and pulled it between us so I reached for our pricks and held them together as he had done. It was really good to feel the two shafts next to each other, to know that he was feeling what I was feeling. Then as I worked on our pricks, he took more shower gel and massaged it into my back, into my bum, into the crease between my bum cheeks, into....

Oh! My! God! Seriously, I had never, ever, felt anything feel like that before and, as he poked his soapy finger into my arsehole, I all but came on the spot. The feel of or pricks crushed together in my fist, the feel of his finger up my backside, the feel of his soapy body all crushed against mine was beyond anything I had ever even dreamed of. I was no longer moving my hand, I was thrusting with my hips, pumped our pricks harder and harder into the firm grip of my fist, and, all the while, he, taking his rhythm from the pumping of my hips, pushed his finger deeper and deeper into my arse.

"You like that, don't you, you like my finger up your butt hole," he said into my ear.

"Yes! Yes! Oooh, yes!" I replied.

"Then come for me," he ordered and that is exactly what I did. It all became too much to hold back and I shot my load up between our bodies. In the shower it didn't matter. My spunk mixed with the water and the shower gel and washed away down the drain. My only problem was try to stay upright and, if I hadn't been hanging onto his neck with my left arm I would have collapsed completely.

I'd barely got my breath back when the water started to run cold. We must have been under the shower for longer than I thought. We rinsed ourselves off and got out of the shower booth. It was only when he reached for a towel that I saw that Jerry still had a hard on and realised how selfish I had been. I had come and he had not. He saw me looking and gave me a smile.

"You can sort that out later if you want," he said, holding his prick in his hand and giving it a little shake. "We'll miss the fish if we don't get out there soon."

I felt a little guilty but, if he was OK with it, then who was I to complain. We got dressed, I put together a couple of bacon butties and it wasn't long before we we casting off and setting out to sea again. We had barely cleared the jetty before Jerry was taking off his tee shirt and, but, as the weather was still fine and the sun was beating down, I didn't blame him. I found what I thought would be a suitable spot where we could see down through the crystal clear water to a rocky outcrop maybe ten or fifteen metres below. I dropped the anchor and we were set for the day.

"It's too hot for clothes," Jerry announced as he undid he waistband of his jeans and pushed them down. I'd got used to Jerry by now so this didn't bother me, even when, once he'd got his boxers off, he put his trainers back on. He explained that he didn't want to stub a toe on the bits and pieces that, inevitably, collected in the bottom of the boat. He set up his rod with the line dangling over the stern and sat back, idly playing with his prick.

"Don't you ever stop playing with yourself?" I asked with a laugh.

"Have you got a problem with that?" he came back.

"Well no..., but...."

"But you're too uptight to join in."

"I'm not!"

"Well, prove it then," he said. "Prove to me your not too uptight to join in."

And, of course I did exactly that and it wasn't long before we were sat either side of the boat each wearing only our trainers as we gently played with ourselves.

"You're not to come," Jerry said after a while.

"What? What are you on about now," I asked.

"The challenge is you have to stay hard and you're not allowed to come. The loser... the loser..."

"The loser has to suck the winner off," I suggested in a moment of madness.

"Sounds fair to me," he replied.

If either of us had thought that the other was going to give in easily, well, they ought to have known better. We sat and we chatted and we watched our lines but, more than anything else, we watched each other, looking for any signs of weakness, looking for any signs of softening erections. Like so many of Jerry's suggestions, once you got past the bizarreness of what we were doing, it was actually rather nice. I don't just mean the sexy feeling of keeping myself hard for all that time, it was more about sharing it with Jerry, knowing that he was just as turned on and that, like me, he could do nothing about it.

Whether we moored in the wrong place or whether the fish weren't biting or whether we were just crap fishermen, we didn't catch a thing all morning and, as the sun reached its zenith, Jerry decided it was time for a swim. We decided to put the challenge on hold for a while, and, after a quick pause to reel in the fishing lines, take off our trainers and unship the outboard, we were over the side and in the water. It was cool and refreshing and, to hell with the fish, this was far more fun. We swam and we splashed and we fooled about but after a while we were completely bushed and it was time to climb back into the boat.

And then it was back to the challenge. We sat facing each other and, although the cold water had had it's usual effect on our pricks, it wasn't long before we were both stiff and hard again. It was rather companionable, just sitting there chatting, idly passing the time of day and, all the time having a gentle wank. My balls were beginning to feel like ripe melons but there was no way I was going to give in. Of course, Jerry was just the same but he was equally stubborn and not going to allow me the chance to lord it over him.

And then I got a bite! We'd been moored there for the thick end of five hours with not so much as a nibble so it took me a moment or two to catch on. As soon as I did I leapt for my rod and, after unclipping it, I knew that what ever I had on the end of the line was big, really big. For ten minutes I played it until, suddenly, the line went slack and I knew that it had got away.

"Shit, lost it," I said as I put the rod back down.

"And that's not all you've lost," Jerry said, pointing to my groin.

I had been so busy, and so preoccupied, that keeping my prick hard had been the last thing on my mind. I looked down and, there it was, completely flaccid.

"Nah, nah, ni nah nah," Jerry taunted. "Tom couldn't keep his stiffy. Now, what was the penalty for losing, the one that you suggested?"

"The loser has to give the winner a blow job," I replied resignedly.

"And there's no time like the present. I need to feel my prick in your mouth as soon as possible so I'll take my winnings now. Why don't you get on your knees in front of me? Come along, don't try to welsh on the deal."

"OK, OK, let me get comfortable." I took my folded jeans and put them on the bottom of the boat so as to give me something to kneel on. Then I got down on my knees and leant forward.

"Not so fast." Jerry was loving this. "As loser you have to ask properly."

"I don't remember this being part of the deal."

"That's because it's a rule that I, as winner, have only just made up. The loser, that's you by the way, has to ask the winner, that's me, nicely or it won't count."

"Oh, for fuck's sake...."

"Come along, you know you want to, loser," Jerry was determined to make the most of this and, as I knelt in front of him, looking at his stiff prick, I thought to myself, 'why not'.

"Please, Jerry," I started.

"Uh-huh, that won't do. For a start you address me as Master Jerry and make it sound as if you mean it."

"Please, Master Jerry," I tried again. "Please may I be allowed to give you a blow job?"

"Better, but I want to hear my servant, Tom, beg to be allowed to suck my prick until I come in his mouth and then you're to beg to be allowed to swallow my rich, creamy spunk."

"You're really milking this, aren't you?"

"Loser, loser, loser..." Jerry started to chant and I knew that, although it was all very friendly, he wasn't going to let up until he had had his way so I might as well get it over with.

"Please, Master Jerry, please may your servant, Tom, be allowed to suck your prick until you come and please may I be allowed to swallow your rich, creamy, spunk," I said as my cheeks burned.

"Umm. I'm not sure," Jerry replied. "I mean, if you were a little gay boy, this would be something you would want to do. It would be a prize, not a forfeit. Are you a little gay boy?"

"No! I'm not! I'm only doing this because I lost the bet." Back when we had been at school together being called a 'gay boy' was one of the worst insults possible. Hey, you know what school kids are like; any suggestion of 'gay' behaviour is jumped upon. I knew that Jerry didn't mean it in a hurtful way and was just mucking about but it still stung.

"Are you sure," Jerry reached out with his toe and flicked the end of my prick which had become hard again. "I think you're a gay boy."

"Please, Jerry, I'm not, you know I'm not."

"If you say so. OK, get on with it."

I leant forward and took the end of his prick in my mouth. I couldn't understand why Jerry was being so mean but, for despite all my protests, being forced to act as his little gay boy, forced to beg to be allowed to swallow his spunk, had really got to me. Maybe it was because I had been playing with myself for most of the day but I was, once again, as hard as rock and the idea that he was going to come in my mouth and I would swallow the lot was really exciting. Jerry was playing with my prick with his foot, the hard rubber of the trainers quite forceful against me, and that, too, was part of the thrill. I thought about the tying up games we had played the previous evening. Well, we hadn't really, we had just pretended. I wondered what it would feel like to do it for real. I wanted to find out what it would be like to be tied up by Jerry. Would he tease me the way I had teased him, would he force me to do gay things against my will. To see what it would feel like I put my hands behind my back and pretended that they were tied together. I got so into playing along that I looked up at 'Master Jerry', my 'tormentor', and pleaded with my eyes. He caught me looking and just stared back at me. It was as if I was locked in place by his will, a helpless prisoner, with no say or control.

And then, as I watched, his face distorted, his whole body went taught, and I got what I had begged for, I got to drink his rich, creamy, spunk.

Jerry had barely recovered when he picked up his jeans, looked in the pockets for his watch and checked the time.

"Come on, the fish aren't biting. And, if they do, then you'll only let them get away. The only fish we're going to see are the ones from the chippie. Let's get into Brodick and get some cod and chips."

It was a bit early to pack up but, he was right, as a fishing trip, this had been a washout so we might as well start heading homeward. We both got dressed, I put the outboard back over the stern, weighed anchor and set a course for the village. Because of this early start we were back in Brodick by four thirty and the shops were still open. I was heading for the chippie when Jerry said he wanted go into the village store. It was mostly groceries but, being the only shop in the village, they had all sorts of other bits and pieces. Jerry looked around until he found what he was looking for, took it to the counter and paid for it. When I asked Jerry what he had bought he opened the bag, I looked inside and there was a length of washing line.