Pams Fishing Trip

Discussion in 'Fictitious Stories' started by jallen944, Jan 13, 2005.

  1. jallen944

    jallen944 Member

    Jun 7, 2004
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    Pam's Fishing Trip
    by jallen944 ©

    Part 1

    Pam stood at the refrigerator, trying to find something interesting to drink, something more enticing than grapefruit juice. With a sigh, she resigned herself to water.

    A large cloud had moved in front of the sun, so she decided to take a break from sunbathing to get a drink. The bright, hot sun had made her skin toasty warm, and was turning it golden brown. The air conditioner made the air inside the house significantly cooler than the hot air outside. It was almost like walking into a freezer. She had been inside only a minute, and she was already shivering.

    She smelled of coconuts. Her skin was covered with cocoa butter oil and she was slick and shiny like her skin was made of plastic. She filled a glass with water and drained it in one big gulp. The cold water dripped on the bare part of her chest and dribbled down between her breasts. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The water felt good on her skin. She turned the empty glass upside down and sprinkled the last few drops on her chest and watched them stream over her oily skin between the mounds of her breasts. The droplets touched the bright red fabric of her bikini and soaked in instantly.

    She untied the bikini top, took it off and set it on the counter. The small patches of skin where the bikini fabric covered her breasts were still a pale white. The cool air inside the house made her nipples hard points, and her breasts seemed to be a little bit bigger, somehow. She went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of the door.

    Her long, blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her skin was smooth and lightly golden from tanning. She stepped back and examined herself from a better angle. A lot had changed since she turned eighteen. Her waist was slender and firm, and her hips flared out nicely. She looked directly at the reflection of her tits, and she was amazed. They were bigger. It had been a long time since she looked at herself so carefully, and now it was like looking at the body of a completely different person. It was not the body of a girl she was looking at, but the voluptuous body of a woman, the body she had so longed to see.

    The doorbell rang and she was very disappointed that her discovery was interrupted. A grin crossed her lips when she decided to go to the door without her top and reveal her new breasts to whoever was standing on the other side.

    She went to the front door and opened it, standing behind it and peeking around, just in case it was someone she knew.

    It was Larry Copelli, that cute kid from science class. He was wearing baggy shorts and a clean t-shirt with a cool picture of a surfer.

    "Hi," Pam said, smiling at him through the screen door.

    "Hi," he said, with a brief smile. "I'm collecting for the Herald."

    "How much?"

    "Two dollars."

    "Come in," she said. He opened the screen door and stepped into the foyer. Pam turned away to walk into the kitchen, but she made sure she gave him a good look at her bare chest before she walked away with her back to him. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw him quickly look away. She knew she had his interest completely and smiled to herself.

    Out of his sight in the kitchen, she found a handful of dollars in her purse, but she came up with a clever idea and only took two dollars and stuffed the rest back in her wallet. She came through the archway of the kitchen and walked toward him with purposeful steps to make her tits jiggle even more. He was starting right at them.

    "Here you go," she said, holding out the money, and he tore his eyes away from her chest.

    "Thanks," he said, and took the money. He was blushing like he had been caught with his pants down.

    "Sorry I don't have a tip," Pam said. "Maybe you'd like something else instead?"

    "Like what?" he stammered.

    She stepped closer and put her hand lightly on his crotch. He flinched and backed up a step. He already had an erection that was filling out the front of his shorts. Her strong gaze held his eyes enraptured, and his penis grew harder and thicker.

    "Would a blowjob do it?" She licked her lips. She took the pen out of his hand and put it on her tit. He was trembling, but gently squeezed anyway.

    "A blowjob?"

    "If I suck your dick, is that a good tip?" Pam said in a soft voice like an innocent girl. It sounded so good to her she wasn't able to resist. She knew he wouldn't.

    "I guess so."

    "Good," she said. She pushed the door closed. He did nothing as she knelt in front of him, lifted the bottom of his t-shirt, and slowly pulled down his shorts.

    "Oh my god," he whispered. She pulled down his undershorts and his young penis popped out.

    Pam sighed. She was delighted to look at it. It was pink and fresh, a penis that had hardly ever been touched. She even doubted that he ever masturbated. It had a fine shape with a slight curve to the side that gave it a distinctive appearance.

    As she stroked it in her hand, examining it from her knees, she felt her passion building. She was only going to blow him, but she had the strong desire for sex, and considered asking him to go to her room with her and take her on her bed, but that was not what she wanted to do with him. He would think they had a relationship or something, and she had no desire to get involved with him that way.

    Then why was she sucking his cock, she asked herself as she kissed the head. Because it's something wild to do, she answered, and put the head in her mouth.

    Larry sighed again and leaned back against the door. He was not too big and she could get his entire cock in her mouth. With her lips closed around the shaft she was licking around the head and bobbing her head furiously. She didn't know for sure whether he had ever experienced anything like this, but she thought it was unlikely. She put her right hand on his thigh to hold herself up and rubbed his balls with her left hand.

    She decided to slow down and tease him for a little bit. She sucked it out of her mouth and looked up at him. He was looking down at her. He gulped hard, and Pam smiled. She stuck her tongue out and licked the head. Larry gasped and flinched. She put the head in her mouth again and sucked it hard, like a vacuum cleaner. With her lips squeezed tightly around the shaft, she moved her mouth down, sliding his cock all the way to the back of her mouth.

    "Oh my god," he moaned, and stiffened.

    Before she knew it, Pam's mouth was filled with cum. It was warm and tasted sour, but it was very brief. She swallowed it and kept sucking until he went limp. Finally, she let it fall out of her mouth and helped him pull up his shorts.

    "Thanks," he said and helped her to her feet.

    "Thank you," Pam said. She took the paper from under his arm and smiled at him. "See you next week."

    He smiled nervously, opened the door, and was gone. Grinning, almost laughing out loud, Pam went back to the kitchen and dropped the newspaper on the counter. Not more than a minute after he was gone, she heard a familiar motorcycle in the driveway. She waited in the kitchen, still without her top. She heard the front door open and looked to see who had come in. Closing the door and looking around the room was Mr. Thorn. Pam smiled to herself and waited in the kitchen for him to find her. Finally, after searching the dining room and living room, he walked into the kitchen.

    "Hello, Pam," he said, smiling innocently. He looked briefly looked directly at her bare tits. "Is your mom home?" He stopped by the counter and leaned against it.

    Pam was feeling warm. She had not expected him at all, but now that he was there in front of her, she was instantly horny and ready to make it with him.

    "No," Pam said. "She left an hour ago."

    "I see," he said. Pam smirked, because she knew that he knew she was gone. "And you're all alone?"

    "By myself," Pam nodded.
  2. Imported

    Gold Member

    Jan 1, 2000
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    dellflower: great keep writing
  3. jjsuperbird

    jjsuperbird Member

    Nov 28, 2004
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    great start keep it cumming....

    MASSIVEPKGO_CHUCK Well-Known Member

    Aug 9, 2003
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    the pain behind your eyes
    Great stuff. Give us some more.
  5. jallen944

    jallen944 Member

    Jun 7, 2004
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    Part 2

    "Good." With that, he opened his pants and let his huge penis hang in the air. That was what Pam liked about him, he didn't bother with formalities, he just got right to the point. Without saying anything, she knelt in front of him, stroking his cock like a long steel pole. He had a devilish grin on his face, like the bastard he was when he knew he was in control. But Pam knew better. Her mouth was dry, caused by her excitement, but she began to lick the end of the cock. She knew better because, while she knew that Mr. Thorn believed he was using her for his pleasuring, she, in fact, was using him, and the monstrous cock she held between her lips, for her own sexual pleasure. She knew he had no concept of this, and it turned her on to pretend to be his toy when it was actually just his cock which was the sexual toy. Inside, Pam laughed, because Mr. Thorn was not as smart as he believed himself to be.

    Standing akimbo, his hands on his hips, leaning against the counter, relaxing while she slid the thick shaft into her mouth over her tongue, a long blowjob if he made it so, was his way of making himself feel young and cool, like one of the kids. He was mare than twenty years older than Pam, and his body was beginning to show the age. The paunch of his middle did not make him sexier than he probably was if she had known him this way ten or twenty years earlier, but this did not matter much to either of them.

    Pam was sucking him in earnest, letting him know she wanted him the only way he understood. She sucked him deep, letting the head brush the back of her throat, but she never took him deeper. Both of them were happy with a good suck.

    Pam's technique went like this: She very, very slowly drew his penis into her mouth, letting it glide across her wet tongue like it was a cushion. When it touched the back of her throat she gagged a little, because he liked that, and closed her lips tightly around his shaft, letting her teeth very lightly sink into it and graze the skin, but only for a moment. If she had lipstick on, which he also liked, especially if it was bright red, she would leave a small streak as a sign or reminder that she had put her mouth there. She then subtly sucked in her cheeks, and, still holding him firmly with her lips, withdrew his penis until the head was smothered in her lips. She did this a few times slowly, a few times quickly, then simply spent some time lavishing his cock with licks and kisses.

    Mr. Thorn pulled it out of her mouth and she stood up. "Rub it on your pussy," he said. His cock hung in front of him, shiny with her saliva, and he watched her while she pulled down her bikini bottoms. They were soaked at the crotch. She let them hang around one ankle, took the cock in her left hand and raised it to her crotch. Spreading her legs around his, she moved closer to him and pressed the wet rod to her wet pussy. She was so turned on she nearly drooled with pleasure. Her hips swayed back and forth, rubbing the shaft along her crotch. The juice from her cunt covered the shaft and her hand and was running down the inside of her thigh.

    He grabbed her by her shoulders and planted his lips on her mouth, plunging his tongue into her mouth like a diver into a pool. It muffled a small cry of surprise from her, but she was only startled, and passionately sucked his tongue. She turned the head of the cock up towards the tiny opening of her vagina, let the huge, red head pierce her, and settled onto it, feeling every thick inch slide into her body, way up inside her. His hands slid off her shoulders, down her slim sides, to her hips, and he pulled her closer, pushing the cock even deeper. Pam put her arms around his neck and squeezed her thighs tightly on his hips.

    She began to grind her hips while he held them firmly in his powerful hands. The tight fit of her cunt on his pole, like a piston in a cylinder, was enough to make her squirm, which she did, peeling her mouth away from his to groan out loud and gasp for breath.

    "Oh, yes," she cried, squirming on his cock like a snake. He began to pump his hips. He wrapped an arm around her waist so that he could have a hand free to squeeze her tits. He lowered his head and took one of her nipples between his teeth. He bit her and she screamed. She didn't stop writhing. The light nip left red marks on her breast. He sucked her nipple.

    That much stimulation made her orgasm. Her body quickly climbed to a peak and stayed there. In her hands she clenched fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him desperately and thrashing uncontrollably while she screamed and moaned at the top of her lungs, and her eyes fluttered open and squeezed closed alternately. She was aware of what she was feeling, but not of what was happening to her.

    After streams of pleasure poured through her body for what felt like more than a week, she eventually came down from the peak, although her body stayed on an orgasm high, and actually continued to orgasm. Her breathing was deep and raspy and her whole body was feverishly hot.

    She blinked twice and looked at Mr. Thorn. His forehead was wet with perspiration and he was still twisting his hips. After another moment she realized that he had cum, and her womb felt filled with a thick, warm liquid. With so much penis inside her, there wasn't much room for any sperm, and she knew that Mr. Thorn gave up a lot of sperm when he came.

    She unclenched his shirt and studied him in surprise, because he had never cum like this, so soon and on the first penetration. He usually waited until they had boffed for about half an hour and changed positions a few times before he dumped his load somewhere inside her body. She expected him to cum, of course, but not so soon. She began to worry a little bit because she wanted, needed, to cum again, and he was already spent. Would he leave? Had he had enough? Or would he keep it up and do it to her again?

    He finally stopped his hips. His penis was not stiff, but it wasn't going soft. Her body, especially her groin, still tingled. She kissed him again, having no desire to let him take his penis out.

    He pushed her way. "Don't leave without fucking me again," she whispered. With a slurping sound his penis came out of her cunt, and with it, she felt a ton of cum. The head of his cock popped out like a cork out of a bottle, and it felt to her like all of his cum poured out of her. She felt a lot of it running down her legs and some dripped on the floor. She looked down at his cock and it was coated, shiny like a varnished wooden pole. She wrapped her hand around it, found it was sticky, and frigged it slowly. It was firm, but more like rubber than steel. She wondered if he would be able to cum again, or even if he planned to.

    Pam dropped to her knees and quickly took the cock into her mouth again. She licked away the coating of his cum and her cum, held the shaft in both hands, and sucked the head furiously. To her joy, by swirling her tongue on the hot skin, she felt it stiffen, slowly, back to its steel-like hardness. She had turned him on. She noticed he was moving his foot around between her legs and then felt his boot moving up the inside of her thigh. He raised his foot and pressed the top of his tan leather boot to her pussy. Pam moaned out, holding the cock in her mouth, and arched her back in and rubbed her pussy on his boot. He pressed harder. She moaned louder and arched her back farther. She took the cock out of her mouth and held it against her cheek because she was breathing so hard, and twisted her hips to keep her cunt rubbing against the boot.

    Holding her head, he made her put the prick back in her mouth. She opened up, anxious to take it in. As soon as it touched her tongue she wrapped her lips around it and began bobbing her head. Her slobbering saliva drooled all over his shaft and all over her face.

    Suddenly he grabbed her head in both hands and hammered his cock to the back of her mouth, trying to force it down her throat. She had no choice but to swallow him, or he would choke her with it. She struggled, trying to push him away, but he was too strong for her and the cock, forcing its way past her teeth, stifled her cries in her throat. He was relentless. She would have been happy to let him fuck her mouth, but she wasn't prepared for this, and she didn't have enough air to breathe.

    Her nose was flattened against his hard, flexed stomach muscles, her lips were buried in his pubic hair and his balls slapped against her chin. Every inch of his huge cock was shoved down her throat. He held her head tightly, pressing her face into his groin, and bucked his hips erratically. Her mouth was open as wide as it would go to get around the base of his prick.

    She felt that she was attached to his groin by her face. She felt that they were fixed together, but he was suffocating her. She continued to try to cry out, but they were still just stifled moans.

    He thrusted unrelentlessly. All Pam could do was hold on and hope he either came or let up before she passed out and died. Suddenly, finally, he stopped and quickly withdrew his cock. Pam had almost turned blue, and collapsed at his feet, gasping for air and coughing.

    "Jesus," she coughed, and that was all she said. He stood over her without conviction for her condition. She realized that this was what turned him on. She really wanted him to fuck her, but she knew he wouldn't do anything until she sucked him off. She made herself get up, back to her knees again. She looked up to his face and tried to read what he was thinking, but she couldn't see anything.

    She opened her mouth and let him put the cock's head in. He put his hands around the back of her head again, and, slowly this time, sunk the prick into her mouth, all the way down her throat. When it was completely inside her and her face was pressed into her groin, he began to grind his hips.

    Pam could do nothing else but let him fuck her this way. With the cock lodged in her throat she couldn't move her jaw or her tongue or lips. He did all the fucking, he got all the pleasure, and she knew this meant he wasn't going to fuck her.

    It only took him a few moments, a few good, firm pumps and one long squeeze, before he spewed his sticky seed way down in her esophagus. The pulsing of his cock was visible on her neck, making it bulge out grotesquely every time it throbbed. The impression was very pleasing to Pam, as was the sensation of the warm sperm coating her throat.

    He released her head from his tight grip and patted her on top. Pam was sweating. She relaxed, stroking the cock a few times in her throat, hoping to keep him up so he might put it up her cunt again. However, it definitely began to go soft on her. She pulled back, drawing the cock from her throat. Finally, with just the head in her mouth, she licked up the last drops of cum from the tip and stood up.

    He squeezed her bare breast. "I knew you could do it," he said. She turned away and looked for her bikini. She checked the strings and found that one of them had been torn. "How come you never did it before?"

    Pam put the bikini back on. "Because you're too big," she said. She hauled up her wet bottoms and they stuck to her wet crotch. His cum was drying on the insides of her thighs. She noticed that he didn't dispute her regarding his size. Some of his cum was still squishing inside her and she still wanted his rigidness there. She adjusted the gluey panties.

    "I knew you'd be good at that," he said, and zipped his pants up.

    Pam chuckled and turned to him. "You know me better than I thought you did."

    He started toward the front door. "I know a lot more than you think I do." Without saying anything more, he walked out. She heard his motorcycle start, and he was gone. But he would be back, she knew he would. She headed up the stairs to take a shower.
  6. jallen944

    jallen944 Member

    Jun 7, 2004
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    Part 3

    Anne set the phone down on the counter and went to the bottom of the stairs.

    "Pam?" she shouted.

    "What?" Pam answered, and stood in her doorway to look down the staircase.

    "Mr. Thorn wants to know if you want to go fishing with him. He's going up to the lake this weekend."

    "Yeah, I'll go," Pam said, suddenly feeling very excited. He did it. He figured out how to get her alone for a weekend.

    "Ok. I'll tell him you'll be ready when he comes by to pick you up."

    Pam rushed back into her room, filled with nervous excitement. She rubbed her legs together and stimulated her clitoris. Before she knew it, she was having an orgasm and Mr. Thorn wouldn't be there to pick her up for two more days.

    By Friday afternoon she had packed everything she might need for the weekend, including spare clothes in case she gets wet, sweaters in case it gets cold, toilet paper just in case, her pillow, her swimsuit, her Walkman and tapes, spare batteries, a sharp knife, and a new jar of lube jelly, just in case. She set the two bags, along with her old fishing pole, by the front door, ready to be loaded into Mr. Thorn's truck when he finally arrived. She was all set for a weekend of fishing and fucking. She was dressed in hiking boots, heavy socks, old jeans, one of Ethan's old plaid workshirts, and her old wool sweater. If she had any luck at all, the weatherman would be right and she wouldn't need the long underwear or the down-filled jacket, but they were packed, just in case.

    Five hours after loading everything into the truck, the sun was just dropping away when they arrived at the campsite. Down the dirt track through the woods, where the two of them drove in his pickup, towing his aluminum bassboat and trailer, it was already dark. The track led for two miles through the forest until it opened on Red Lake, Mr. Thorn's secret fishing hole, and the red sun setting just beyond the trees, which, from the reflection of it on the smooth water, gave the lake its name.

    Where the wall of trees ended was a short stretch of land that reached down to the edge of the water. Along this piece of land, a good distance away from the track, was a flat, bare spot of dirt and a black fire pit beside it, surrounded by a stack of rocks, where Mr. Thorn set up camp, year after year. They pitched the tent on the bare spot, gathered wood, and built a fire, all before it got too dark to see.

    All through the dinner of beans, ham, some apples, and a sandwich, Mr. Thorn told stories of his past fishing trips in that very spot. Some of them she knew to be true, and others she knew to be way over exaggerated. They stayed up until about eleven, smoking his strong, hand-rolled cigarettes, when Mr. Thorn decided it was time to go to bed if they were going to get up at six in the morning.

    When he said that she suddenly got nervous. All through dinner and listening to his stories she had forgotten about having sex and it came right back to her all at once, like waking her from a sleepy dream. But she wasn't frightened. Anxious was more like it. She wanted him to screw her and she was nervous with anticipation. She didn't mention anything about it, though, because she knew that the way he wanted it was for her to do as he told her. So they rolled out their sleeping bags and stripped down to their underwear. She was on her knees on her open sleeping bag with her back turned to him, removing her bra, waiting for him to give her a command, or just say anything. She pulled off the bra and turned around, but he was already in his sleeping bag, looking at her, waiting to put out the lantern. She couldn't believe it. She was facing him in the flickering light, wearing only tiny panties, her nipples as hard as perfect diamonds, and he didn't even notice.

    "Good night," he said, and blew out the lantern.

    She was dumfounded, kneeling there on her sleeping bag in the darkness, still waiting anxiously to be screwed. It was so much unlike him. She climbed into the bag. Maybe tomorrow, after fishing.

    She didn't hear anything else all night until Mr. Thorn woke her up. The sky outside the tent was still dark.

    "What time is it?" she said, sitting up. Mr. Thorn was already dressed and carrying a mug of steaming coffee.

    "Five thirty," he said and handed her the mug.

    She took it with a grimace and a groan, then a yawn.

    "The fish aren't even awake yet."

    "The fish never sleep. Drink your coffee."

    Less than thirty minutes later they were on the boat in the middle of the lake. Mr. Thorn sat at the front, Pam sat in the middle. He controlled the trolling motor that hung in the water off the front of the boat and tooled them around from spot to spot. He was using a spinner and she was casting with a purple rubber worm, but they couldn't hit anything bigger than baby bass and sunfish. After an hour they moved to a place around the bend in the lake, and after an hour there, they quit for the morning without a significant catch.

    At around eight a.m. they had a breakfast of instant oatmeal and fruit, and prepared to wait until late afternoon, before dusk, when they would go back out on the lake and try to catch dinner. They settled into comfortable sand holes by the water, smoking his cigarettes, and drinking thick, strong, black coffee.

    As the sun rose over their heads the air got warmer and they shed some of the warmer clothes they had worn on the lake. They talked about unimportant things and he mentioned something about landing a big old bass that weekend, but she was wondering when he was going to get around to doing it to her.

    She had stripped down to her plain white t-shirt and old, faded jeans, the same as him, and if she could see his nipples through his shirt, then he could see her nipples through her shirt. She wasn't even wearing a bra. There was no one around, so why didn't he climb on top of her and bang her right there? She looked at him. He was staring off dreamily into the sky, thinking about that dumb old bass.

    In the afternoon, when the day turned hot, she put on her blue bikini and went in the water to cool off. Mr. Thorn watched her silently from the shore, but didn't come in with her. She had hoped the bikini would finally turn him on, like it did when she was sunbathing, but nothing happened. When dusk came around and the sun was just over the trees in the west, she swam back to shore to find him and tell him she was hungry.

    "Good. It makes you fish better when you know that you've got to have something to eat," he said.

    By the light of the lantern, out on the lake, she changed from her purple worm to a spinner, since Mr. Thorn had already caught his dinner, a good three pound bass. She cut the worm from the line with her teeth, looped the line through the eye-hook on the spinner, wound it six times, pushed the end through loop in the line, pulled it tight, tugged it, then bit off the excess line hanging out. But her luck wasn't any better with the spinner. All she pulled up were weeds, she didn't even catch any sunfish. They cooked his catch, and, although there was just enough meat for one person and she ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she had a few bites of the fish.

    Later, after dinner and cigarettes, she expected him to tell her to go into the tent and undress, but all he said was, "Let's get to bed early tonight, and try to get out on that lake before the sun comes up."

    And then it dawned on her, like turning on a light in a dark room and suddenly seeing clearly. The man loved fishing more than he loved fucking. Was that ok, or did the man have his priorities out of whack? She decided to be naked when he came into the tent, so she left him to put out the fire and went inside to undress.

    When he finally entered the tent, she was standing beside her open sleeping bag, naked. He looked at her, then turned around to zip up the tent flap. She was about to let out a deep sigh when he undid his belt and dropped his pants. Excited, she laid back on her bag with her knees up and spread. In the lantern light, the Vaseline jelly she had spread on her pussy made her lips glisten as if they were covered with dew.

    He pulled off his shirt.

    "You're going to freeze tonight if you don't get in your sleeping bag," he said and, wearing only his underwear, climbed into his own sleeping bag and rolled over.

    Pam sighed and blew out the lantern.

    The next morning, Sunday morning, they were up at five and out on the water by five thirty. Mr. Thorn took the boat to a remote spot on the far side of the lake, a rocky little cove where they could just barely see the other side of the lake. A spooky mist drifted across the top of the water when Pam looked back to find their camp. It was a very pleasant and relaxing sight.

    The trees on this part of the lake came right down to the water. At the tip of the V that the sides of the cove made, a stream came out through the trees and ended at the water. A pile of black stones made a waterfall for the stream and the clear falling water made a funny gurgling sound when it hit the dark, motionless lake water.

    Mr. Thorn caught a bluegill on his first cast and Pam caught one on her third cast. Soon they were hitting anything thrown into the water, but Mr. Thorn got tired of it. He turned the boat around with the trolling motor and moved them out of the cove a little bit, where it looked like there was a good dropoff underwater. Pam could see a small group of carp feeding on the surface back in the cove by the stream, but they didn't have any live bait for them, and Mr. Thorn wasn't interested in carp, anyway.

    He was right about that area of the lake. They caught good sized bass steadily for the next few hours, most of them just under keeping size, but two or three of them big enough to eat. By about ten in the morning they had stopped biting and Mr. Thorn decided it was time to head back home.

    He stood up and laid his pole across the bench seats. The boat shifted when he stepped across to get to the engine at the back. The pole slid and the spinner hook caught in Pam's jeans. The boat rocked back and the hook dug into her thigh. She cried out and her pole jerked up. Just as she was reaching down to carefully examine her thigh and find out what was causing so much pain, her line suddenly went "whiiizzz", and then again, "whiiizzz," but it took her a moment to realize that something was running away with her spinner. She couldn't see from her left eye because of the tears from the pain of the hook stabbing her like a fat needle, the boat was rocking enough to make her want to puke, her pole was bent so close to the water it looked like it was ready to snap, and Mr. Thorn was shouting something about reeling in the fish.

    "Your hook is stuck in my leg," she shouted, cranking up the fighting drag on her reel. She raised her leg so he could see the bright yellow thing hanging on her jeans.


    "Your hook, get it out of my leg," she cried, wincing in pain.


    In one quick move he unsnagged the hook and set the pole aside and out of the way. He grabbed the net and dipped it in the water.

    "He's a bad boy. You got yourself a grandaddy, there," he said.

    Pam stood up and leaned back against the strong pull of the fish. It felt like she was trying to land a whale. She gave a couple of hard jerks.

    "He's coming home for-" she started to say when the line snapped.

    The pole popped straight up from the bent curve, wobbling to attention, and Pam flew backwards as if she had been picked up and thrown like a baseball. She was still holding the pole when she hit the water, head first, her feet still hanging over the edge of the boat. Her boots were hooked on the edge and Mr. Thorn quickly pushed them over. He tossed the life-jacket where she had gone under and was just about to jump in when she came up.

    "I lost my pole," she shouted, and coughed. She wiped the hair away from her eyes, reached for the life jacket, and let Mr. Thorn help her back into the boat.

    He laid her back on the bench. "Are you ok?"

    She coughed. "I think I swallowed some water."

    "That fish almost had you for breakfast. You just lie there until you feel ok to sit up."

    The ride back to camp seemed to take forever. The water was as smooth as glass. Pam watched the clouds glide by overhead, letting the sun warm her face, and decided to let it warm the rest of her body. She sat up, having a hard time moving in her wet, heavy clothes, unbuttoned her flannel shirt, tossed it on the bench seat, and pulled off the wet t-shirt, leaving just the light, wet bra to cover her boobs. Her boots clunked on the bottom of the boat when she kicked them off, and she had to wrestle with the tight, wet jeans to get them off before she could lay back on the bench seat again to soak up the warm sun. She closed her eyes.

    It was a long time before Mr. Thorn cut the engine and the bow of the boat nudged up on the sandy shore with a gentle grind. She opened her eyes. He was pulling the engine out of the water. She climbed out and the two of them pulled the boat onto shore so it wouldn't float away.

    "Go on in and dry off. I'll put the boat away," he said.

    She left the tent flap open while she peeled off the wet panties and bra. The towel wasn't in her bag, but outside drying on a branch. Mr. Thorn had removed his shirt and was sweating with the boat. He stopped to watch her trod across the camp, naked, to pluck the towel off the tree. She smiled but didn't look back. He walked in while she was on her knees, toweling her hair, her back to the entrance. She looked over her shoulder at his bare chest. He was holding a first aid kit.

    "Let's take a look at that wound," he said.

    Pam stretched her legs out and he knelt down to look at the red marks left by the big hook.

    "You're gonna be fine." He opened the kit and took out a bottle of antiseptic. "This is gonna sting." Pam gritted her teeth when he washed the tiny gouges, then he put a bandage over it and taped it to keep it in place. "That's it," he said.

    He stood up and kicked off his boots and pushed down his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear. His penis, half-erect, flopped out. When she saw it her mouth fell open.

    It looked bigger than she remembered. He helped her up on her hands and knees and spread her legs, forcing them apart, and shoved a finger in her hole. Pam tossed her head back.

    "Fuck my ass, please," she said in a soft whisper. Her thick, wet, blonde hair reached back from the top of her head down her neck and back.

    "Lube it up, first."

    She turned around on her knees and licked his cock. This was the only lubrication he was going to use and if she didn't get him extremely wet, it would rip her open on the first push, so she drooled along the whole shaft.

    "That's enough. Turn around and be still," he said.

    She turned back around on her hands and knees, grabbed the tent post and held on tight, waiting. He rubbed the fat shaft along her cunt a few times, and then, to her surprise, slipped it in.

    Silently, she thanked God, turning her eyes up. At least her own juices would make his cock a little slicker. He squeezed her hips and pulled her back to him, but after only a few deep, hard strokes he pulled it out. She took a slow, raspy breath with her eyes closed, waiting for him to line it up. She was shaking.

    "Do it. Do it now," she whispered.

    One of his strong hands spread her ass cheeks, his other hand held his cock up. Her hands squeezed the post, and it wasn't very sturdy. The tip of the head touched her sensitive little hole, and she gasped. She wished for some grease to smear in her hole, but there was no time, he was already pushing, and the head wanted in.

    Letting out a deep breath, she willed herself to relax. The head slipped in effortlessly, followed by most of the shaft. Pam moaned. Mr. Thorn let go of the shaft and maintained a steady push forward until he reached a dead end. Barely half the shaft had penetrated. He could sink no further.

    Pam swallowed hard. She could handle his size in her pussy, but this? Maybe she shouldn't have asked for it.

    "Take it out, please," she whimpered.

    "No way," he said. He wrapped his big hands around her waist and rocked her back and forth.

    "Please." She was sobbing and trembling. His cock felt enormous.

    "Too late."

    "Ohh. You're gonna make me cum."

    His cock, covered in her juices, made odd slurping noises, kind of like the little stream that gurgled in the cove, except that his cock moved very slow. He pulled out an inch or two, then pushed it back in, a little deeper than the time before, and stopped when she groaned and sobbed because he had hit bottom. She was so tight that he wasn't able to move any quicker. It was almost as if his penis had become glued inside her rectum.

    She wiggled her hips. "God, that feels so good."

    "I thought you said you couldn't stand it."

    "I can't. I can't stand it when you're not inside me like this."

    He stopped pumping his hips.

    "I have to tell you something," he said, bending over to be closer to her ear. His big, rough hands went up her belly and around her breasts. "I made it with a lot of women in my time, strangers, friends, my friend's wives, my wive's friends, my aunts, cousins, my sister, my mother, and even a man once or twice, since I was old enough to stand, but I never had anyone, anyone, as good as you. That's a fact."

    She smiled at the thought, unaware that she was about to orgasm. It caught her off guard and she started making little cooing noises.

    "Oooh...oooh...oooh," she moaned, and finally felt an orgasm, one she had been waiting for all weekend, at the same time Mr. Thorn washed her insides with sperm.

    When it ended she laid out flat on the sleeping bag and he collapsed on top of her, without removing his cock from her hole. His cum had flooded deep into her bowels, running through her body where it felt best.

    "Thank you," she whispered, turning her face up to meet his lips.

    He kissed her before he crawled off. She rolled over and watched him go out. She came out of the tent in dry jeans and shirt, dry shoes on her feet, and walked over to help him tie down the boat. It clanked and banged up onto the trailer and they made sure it was secure.

    "Mr. Thorn?" she said. He looked up. "Will you take me fishing again, sometime?"

    He smiled and nodded. "Sure."
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