The Granddaddy of All Fishing Stories

As Mike Baines backed his car to within feet of the door of the lake cabin he and Bob Reynolds had rented for the weekend, he said, "Man, I am so ready for this. Do a little fishing, a little hunting ... No telephone ... This is just what I need."

"It should be great," Bob answered as Mike placed the transmission in park and switched off the car. The two got out, pulled their bags and equipment from the trunk, and entered the cabin. "It's a bit rustic," Bob observed, "but it should serve its purpose."

"Four days and nights," Mike said more to himself than in response to Bob's statement. Today was Thursday. They had loaded the car the night before, and once work had ended today, they hopped in and made the drive. They had taken Friday off, and Monday was Labor Day, so they had an extended weekend in which to destress and get back in touch with their masculine sides. "What do you want to do first, Bob?"

"Almanac says there should be some good fishing for the next hour or so," Bob mentioned. "Do you want to try to catch dinner?"

"Sounds good," Mike said. "We can put our stuff away when we return."

They each grabbed some fishing gear—Mike an eight-foot bamboo pole and Bob a Zebco rod and reel—and they walked the one hundred yards to the lakebed. They dug into the wet dirt near the bank and each found a worm they fastened to their respective hooks. Mike held up his line and readjusted the bobber. "I'm about three feet. You?"

"I'll probably go five," Bob said. He made the adjustment, then cast his line. Mike lobbed his line out afterwards. Bob reached into his shirt pocket and produced a box of Marlboro Lights. He flipped the lid with his free thumb, bit one, and pulled it from the pack before offering one to Mike. "Smoke?"

"Yeah. Thanks," Mike said as he took one. Bob lit his, then Mike's, then the two just sat back and enjoyed the sounds of the insect life around the lake. Mike had dug a small hole between himself and Bob, and once both had finished their cigarettes, they deposited them and covered them with dirt. "You know, I was thinking," Mike began. "Maybe we should—"

"Hold on! I've got a bite!" Bob exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and set the hook. He began reeling in when Mike jumped to his feet.

"I've got one, too." Mike raised the pole and arced it to his left, away from Bob so as to not cross lines. He stepped back a bit, then guided the fish to the bank. He pulled it onto land, then placed a thumb in its mouth while his forefinger rested under the fish's bottom lip. He looked over to see that Bob had finally landed his. "Watcha got?" Mike asked him.

Bob held it up. "Catfish. Three-pounder'd be my guess. You?"

"Pike," Mike said as he held his aloft. "Pound and a half, maybe two."

"Why don't you go set up the grill?" Bob suggested as he pulled his hunting knife from the sheath on his hip. "I'll take care of cleaning them." Mike returned to the house and poured charcoal briquets into the grill, doused them with lighter fluid, then set them ablaze as Bob expertly cleaned the fish; not just scaling and skinning, but fileting them as well. He threw the scraps back into the lake for the other fish to feed on, then he made his way up, where he lay one filet in each of the four foil pouches Mike had waiting. Mike then poured lemon juice and Cajun blackened seasoning over them, folded the foil, and let them set while he waited for the fire to die down. Meanwhile, Bob entered the cabin to wash his hands. When he emerged, he said, "Hushpuppies and fries?"

"You know it," Mike said, "and the beer is already on ice."

An hour later and both were sitting on stumps in front of the fire Bob had built, enjoying the fruits of their labors. The remaining vestiges of the sun, as it slowly made its way to the other side of the globe, had painted the sky a reddish purple. "It sure is beautiful out here," Bob observed. "Four nights of this and I'll be hard-pressed to return to the city."

"You and me, both," Mike agreed.

"Almanac says optimal fishing is tomorrow at six-thirty. You game?"

"What does it say about tomorrow evening?" Mike asked. "I was really looking forward to bagging a couple of quail in the morning."

"Probably same as today," Bob answered without the benefit of even looking. "We can do both, I suppose, unless there was something else you had in mind?"

"Nah," Mike said with a satisfying sigh. "Just relaxing. Speaking of which, I noticed there was just the one bed. You cool with that? It's a queen, so it should hold us both. If not, we can rotate with the sofa."

"I'm good with sharing the bed," Bob answered. He pulled two cigarettes from his pack, lit them, then passed one to Mike. They smoked in silence as the sun moved further away.

The following day, Mike and Bob bagged two quail each, just enough to make a satisfying lunch. They piddled around for the most part until four o'clock rolled around, and then it was back to the lake, only when they arrived there was a small rowboat with a letter attached which read, "Thought you boys might enjoy a little fishing on the lake. Jimmy."

"What do you say?" Mike asked Bob.

"Let's do it," Bob replied, so they loaded their gear into the boat and rowed to the middle of the lake. Each cast his line before popping the top on a can of beer.

Two beers and twenty minutes later, Mike announced, "Man, I really have to piss."

"Hang it overboard," Bob suggested.

"Really?"

"The fish pee and shit in the water all the time," Bob pointed out, "so why not?"

"You have a point," Mike acknowledged. He carefully stood, unzipped his pants, and pulled his pecker free. As he began to urinate, a very audible, "AH!" passed his lips. He looked at Bob and said, "Hey, watch this. I can write my name in the water." He began swiveling his hips, and ...

As Mike began swiveling his hips, Bob said, "No. Don't rock the boat. You'll—" and that was as far as his warning got, for Mike's gyrations caused him to lose his balance. He fell backwards and out of the boat, overturning the boat in the process. Bob, after getting his bearings, surfaced to find Mike laughing his ass off. "You think that was funny?"

"Hell yeah, I think that was funny," Mike shouted.

Bob snorted a few times. "Okay, maybe just a little bit." He looked at the boat, which had flipped a complete one-eighty but had not taken on any water, and said, "Come on. Let's get this back to shore before it sinks."

Mike swam over, then the two dived under the boat and peddled toward the shore. Once on land, they dragged the boat from the water and turned it upright on the sand. Bob fell back onto his butt, then Mike did the same. "We lost all our gear," Bob pointed out.

"It's only gear," Mike responded.

"And the beer," Bob added.

"Oh, shit! Not the beer!!" Mike exclaimed, then he and Bob fell into a laughing fit. As it subsided, "Say what you will, but that was invigorating if nothing else."

"Be that as it may, I'd like to plan our next swim instead of having it thrust upon us."

"Tomorrow morning at eleven," Mike responded. "What do you say?"

"I say we get up to the house and change," Bob intoned.

Once back at the cabin, Bob said, "You go ahead and get your shower. Strip before you go in and I'll hang our clothes up to dry."

Mike followed Bob's order without fail, mentioning, as he removed his soaking wet clothes, "You know it's going to be a Beanie Weenie night, right?" just as he removed his underwear, exposing his penis.

"Nothing 'Beanie' about that weenie," Bob said with a laugh. Mike laughed as he made his way through the door and into the cabin bathroom. Bob stripped down to his boxers, wondering if he should wait until Mike was finished in the bathroom to completely disrobe or if he should go ahead and just wrap a towel around himself while he waited. He opted for the latter. He stepped out of his boxers and ...

Mike had made it to the bathroom. He had even started the water for his shower, then it occurred to him that there was a pizza joint a few miles into town. He made his way to the door, opened it, and began, "You know, we could always—" and that was as far as he got. His eyes were fully centered between Bob's legs. A look of almost comic incredulity had come across his face. He finally looked Bob in the eyes, then back between the legs again, then the eyes, then once more at the vagina between his best friend's legs before shouting, "What the fuck, Bob? What the holy, motherfucking fuck?"

Bob just stood there, frozen in place.

"Bob ...? What the fuck is this?" Mike shouted again.

Bob composed himself as best he could before saying, "Are you content to let all the hot water run out to wait for an answer?" Mike just stood there, which prompted Bob to say, "Well, I'm not." He then walked past Mike and into the bathroom.

Upon his exit, Bob saw Mike sitting on the bed. "Shower's yours."

"You going to tell me what the hell is going on?" Mike asked rather forcefully.

"After your shower," Bob told him. "I promise."

Mike reluctantly made his way into the bathroom. He exited with a towel around his waist. As he pulled up his underwear, he said, "I noticed a pizza joint a few miles down the road. Considering what happened earlier ..." and he left the rest to hang in the air.

"Yeah," Bob, who was already fully dressed, said. "Pizza sounds good."

Mike dressed in silence. He and Bob rode in silence. It wasn't until after their order had been taken that he said, "Okay. Tell me why it is that I saw what I saw." Before Bob could supply an answer, however, Mike was already attempting to do so. "Did you get your pecker blown off while in the military? Were you castrated? What?"

Bob sighed, then said, "My birth name is Roberta. I was born female sexed, but wrongly sexed. I felt that as far back as I can remember. When I turned eighteen, I began taking male hormones. My hairy chest? My beard and moustache? These are all representations of who I am, Mike; the real me. I had my breasts downsized, worked out ... I'm a man." He shrugged.

"Yeah, everything but a penis," Mike said a bit sardonically.

The waitress arrived and set a pitcher of beer and two glasses on the table before departing.

"Well, I really don't need a penis considering my clit is over three inches long when fully erect," Bob retorted just above a whisper. "I have yet to be with a woman who I didn't leave completely satisfied."

"So, why hide this?" Mike asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you completely miss your reaction to it?" Bob asked sarcastically. "It's for reasons just like that that I don't say anything. People accept me as a man. Why should I divulge something they would view as contrary?"

"Point taken," Mike said as he continued to process everything.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" Bob asked.

"No. I won't," Mike answered. "I promise. It's not my place."

"Do you think this will change the dynamic of our relationship?" Bob inquired further. "I mean, we've been best friends for over ten years now. Would you allow this come between that?"

"No," Mike answered without hesitation. "I mean, you've been there for me, Bob. We've been in our share of bar fights, we've loaned each other money, worked out together at the gym ... If we're such good friends, though, why did you feel you couldn't confide in me?"

"Again, look at your reaction earlier," Bob pointed out. "I didn't want to risk losing you as a friend." He sighed. "I guess it all comes down to trust, Mike, and I felt you not knowing was best for us both."

"Well, I accept this of you," Mike replied, "and again, I won't say anything to anyone."

"Thank you," Bob said just as the pizza arrived, and as they ate, their conversations moved to other topics.

Once home, Bob stripped down to his skivvies. He looked up to see Mike looking at him. "Oh. Um ... Would you be more comfortable if I put a shirt and some shorts on?"

"What? Of course not," Mike answered perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "Do what you always do." With that, Mike stripped down to his boxers as well.

Bob was silent for a few moments, then he said, "Look, in light of everything that has happened today, if you think you'd be uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as me then I can take the couch. It's no biggie."

"Please!" Mike answered in the same tone as before. "We're friends. This ... doesn't change anything."

"You're sure?" Bob asked.

"Yeah. I'm sure," Mike responded. "Now, how about a few games of chess before we call it a night?" Bob was okay with that, so they played a best out of five, which actually went to six due to a stalemate. The final game was hard-fought, but Mike finally won out. He looked at the clock. "Damn. Eleven-thirty." He yawned. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready for bed." He excused himself and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once he had exited, Bob entered and did the same.

"Already in bed?" Bob asked as he made his way through the dark to his side.

"Yeah," Mike answered a bit huskily.

Bob slid in and covered himself, then was immediately up again. "Sorry. I need a drink of water." He went to the kitchen, then returned and slid back under the covers. He lay there. He was aware of the seconds ticking by from each forceful pounding of his heart. Then, a chill ran up his spine.

Mike had reached out and ever-so lightly run his fingers across Bob's ass. He felt Bob shiver. He said, "You've removed your underwear."

Bob reached back and latched onto Mike's hard cock. "Seems you did as well."

"What do we do?" Mike tentatively asked.

Bob pulled Mike forward a bit as he lifted his leg. His breathing was erratic as he said, "Do what we both want."

Mike could feel the heat emanating from Bob's pussy. That sounded weird to him: Bob's pussy, but that didn't negate the fact that he was really turned on at this moment by the thought of fucking Bob's pussy. He pushed himself in to the hilt, a satisfying, "Ah!" coming from both their mouths. "Jesus Christ. Are you always this hot?"

"No," Bob answered. "I guess I'm turned on by the fact that you're the first guy I've had inside me."

"You're a virgin?" Mike stated more than asked.

"Not anymore," Bob said with a chuckle. "I've had dildos in me before, but yeah, you're my first real man."

For some reason unbeknownst to him, this made the moment seem more magical to Mike. He slid from behind Bob and onto him, missionary style. He eased himself back in and began to slowly move in and out as he whispered, "Oh, shit; this feels good."

"You can kiss me if you like," Bob offered.

Mike hesitated a full ten seconds, then he lowered his mouth onto Bob's. The sensation of the moustache and beard took some getting used to, but he had to admit that Bob was a pretty damned good kisser. He finally pulled away and said, "Something's jabbing me next to my dick."

"That's my clit," Bob told him. "It's hard as a rock." Mike had stopped completely, so Bob invited him to, "Suck it, if you like."

"I've never encountered one that big," Mike said with all honesty. "I don't know if I'd know how. I mean, what ..."

"Just pretend that you're showing someone how you'd like your cock sucked," Bob told him. "Do that, and all should be fine."

Mike slid down to Bob's well-manicured pussy. He ran his lips along Bob's clit, then he took it in his mouth and did just as Bob directed. The truth is that Mike had always wondered what it would be like to suck a dick, and yes, he even fantasized about sucking Bob's dick a time or two. Well, here he was now, and for all intents and purposes, that fantasy was coming true.

As Mike became more comfortable with sucking Bob's he-clit, he began implementing things he'd do to clits that were drastically smaller in size. These things got from Bob the reactions that Mike had hoped for, and inside of five minutes, Bob was coming. Mike licked the residue from Bob, then remounted him missionary style and began to make slow love to his best friend.

"Yes," Bob moaned. "Oh God, Mike. It feels so good."

Afterwards, relative silence for the next twenty minutes with exception to Bob having another orgasm, then it was Mike's turn. "Oh, shit. In or out, Bob? Hurry."

"In," Bob said as he wrapped his arms and legs around Mike, holding him in place.

"Oh, fuck!" Mike yelled several times over as he emptied himself inside Bob's pussy. His thrusting slowed, slowed, and finally stopped. He bent down and kissed Bob again. Bob released him, and Mike rolled over onto his back. "Wow. That was something else."

Bob patted Mike's still-heaving chest. "Get some rest." He then turned away and closed his eyes. He did not fall asleep immediately. His mind wondered about the line just crossed, the ramifications of such, and if their friendship could survive. He heard light snoring coming from behind him mere moments before he fell asleep as well.

The following day, Bob awoke to find the space next to him empty. He momentarily feared the worst until he heard noises coming from outside the cabin. He looked out the window to see Mike fixing breakfast. Bob got dressed and joined him.

"Just in time," Mike said when he saw Bob. "Here," he said as he handed him a plate of bacon, eggs, and grits.

"Thanks," Bob said as he accepted it. He sat on one of the stumps and began to eat. When Mike joined him, there were a few minutes of silence, which Bob finally broke. "So, are we going to talk about last night?"

"I had a good time, you had a good time, so what's to talk about?" Mike asked as he shoveled some eggs into his mouth. "Unless you're asking me if I'd like to do it again, which I would." Bob smiled, then he slowly shook his head. "What?" Mike asked.

"I don't know," Bob said with a sigh. "It's just that I've always thought myself a man who loves women, yet here I am excited over what could possibly develop between you and I."

"Maybe you're gay?" Mike said, then he burst into laughter. "Hell, maybe I am, too."

"You said you wanted to do this again," Bob reiterated. "Does that mean just while we're here, or even after we return to our normal lives?"

"Um ..."

"Because I can promise you that I'll never say or do anything that will jeopardize our personal or professional lives, Mike. If you wanted us to keep seeing each other, we could. People know we're friends. I don't think they'd suspect anything."

"Calm down," Mike said in a soothing voice. "I'd like to continue seeing you once we return to the city, Bob. Hell, for that matter, I'd like to bend you over that stump and give you what for right now."

Bob raised a curious eyebrow, lay his plate aside, and removed his pants and underwear before bending over the stump. It took Mike no time at all to strip nude. He bunched his clothes behind Bob so the gravel wouldn't dig into his knees, then he slid himself into Bob's hot, tight, waiting pussy. They moaned in unison as Mike went fast and deep; Bob's orgasm was instantaneous. "Sit down," Bob directed, and when Mike did, Bob took Mike's cock into his mouth.

Bob had stated that Mike's was the first real cock he had ever enjoyed, and it showed. Emulating fellatio on a dildo was much different than sucking a real cock, but soon Bob found a groove that Mike seemed to enjoy and stuck with it. After about five minutes, "Oh shit, Bob. Here it comes." Bob allowed Mike to come in his mouth. He wanted to experience everything sex with a man had to offer. The taste was a bit off—nothing like a woman's cum—but it wasn't off-putting. "I could definitely get used to that," Mike said.

"Me, too," Bob replied.

They didn't make sex an issue while remaining at the cabin, but it did happen, and it happened frequently. Upon their return to the city, Mike and Bob got on as they always had, even being the first to joke about "Brokeback Mountain" references. This, Mike assured Bob, would be the pre-emptive strike should anyone dare question whatever developments might occur in the future,