1 comments/ 36632 views/ 2 favorites Fishing By: fidofashion "Hey, Mac, you wanna go fishing with us tomorrow?" Hal asked me as we left the office on our way to the parking lot. Tomorrow was Saturday and I didn't have anything to do, and I'd been curious about what went on during Hal's famous fishing trips ever since I'd heard veiled rumors from some of the former invitees, but never anything specific about what actually happened. Hal was the new company VP for Human Resources, and Public Relations, and there had been several of these weekend fishing trips since he took over, but this was the first time he had invited me. I figured it was because I was in the R&D division, was at least 25 years older than he was, he probably had fishing buddies his age, and didn't want to be slowed down by some old overweight married guy. "Sure. When and where?" I answered, trying not to sound too surprised or eager, but I wondered to myself why he was asking me, and why on such short notice. After all, I'd been in the office all week and he had had plenty of opportunity to extend the invitation sooner, and there were several of his usual fishing buddies available. "Six a.m.; here in the parking lot. Bring your fishing gear, but wear something casual, and bring an extra change of clothes. We'll be stopping on the way for coffee; we'll change into our fishing gear on the boat. Tomorrow on the way back we'll be stopping for dinner, so you'll need the extra clothes." "Boat? Should I bring anything special?" I asked trying to get some read on what kind of trip this was going to be, and what we were going to be fishing for. "Yes, boat, and no you don't need anything special, just bring comfortable clothes and yourself. We'll take care of everything else." He said with a wink and a smile. "I think you're gonna like this, I know I will." "Who's the "we"?" I asked, really curious now. "Show up and find out," he said with a grin. "Sounds fishy to me," I said, sounding just as suspicious as I felt. " We'll have at least a third person, and no, I won't tell you who, but I can tell you it's someone that's been interested in meeting you, and unless I miss my guess as you will be in meeting them," he said with a mysterious grin. We had reached his car, a vintage Alpha Romero Spyder that he'd spend an inordinate amount of time and money on. He disengaged the alarm and started to get in. "Oh? Wanna give me a hint?" I asked, now really curious and trying to pry more information out of him before he escaped. "No. I intend to enjoy every minute of the suspense," he said sounding very pleased with himself, "but, I think you'll enjoy this." He settled into the small car, "See you in the morning." I continued on to my car thinking hard. His statement that the mysterious person was someone I would like to meet and who also wanted to meet me was tantalizing. I couldn't think of ever telling him about anyone I wanted to meet that I thought would want to meet me. Who would want to meet a short, overweight, married, 50 something, white guy, even if I did actually visit the gym 3 or 4 times a week? On the other hand, I did want to spend some time with Hal. He was good looking and I suspected might be gay, or perhaps bi. Well I'd find out in the morning. On the drive home it occurred to me, that Hal knew my wife, Carol, had just left town for the next week to visit her parents, so I had the weekend free. He would also have known this was the first week Carol had been gone since he was promoted to VP, and had started arranging the company fishing trips. Well that was a possible explanation for the late invitation, but it didn't explain the tantalizing hint about the third person who wanted to meet me. I was in my garage closing the door when it also occurred to me that Hal now had access to the Foxtail Country Club where all the firm's corporate officers were granted playing privileges as part of the firm's group membership. I suddenly had a visual flashback of the last time I'd played the course almost ... well it would be a year next month since I'd been there ... when, by pure chance, I'd met up with Bruce, one of my old college buddies I hadn't seen in a couple years. Unbidden, a vision of Bruce flashed my head of the first time I met him nearly 30 years ago. He had been a senior, and a member of the football team, while I was a mere freshman. We had met in the dorm late one night when I came back drunk well after curfew and was locked out. He had looked out his window, saw me, and wearing nothing but tight white briefs, had come down to let me in. Then when he noticed how very inebriated I was, and after catching me staring at the outline of his cock clearly visible through the thin short, he had invited me up to his room, where he had proceeded to slip his shorts off and masturbate in front of me and asked me to let him suck my cock. To say I was a little intimidated would be an understatement. At the time Bruce stood 6' 5" and weighed at least 285 of mostly muscle. After a hesitation of perhaps half a heart beat, I had agreed, and to my great pleasure he had sucked me dry in mere seconds. Then he asked me to suck him and despite my honest protest of being an oral virgin that didn't know how, his wretched pleading had persuaded me, and I had. To my great surprise I liked sucking his cock, especially when I was rewarded with his moans of obvious pleasure, and when his hot seamen spurted into my virgin mouth as he moaned and told me he was in loved with me, I was hooked. That night led to almost daily repeat performances over the next several months ending only when he graduated and moved away. He had been scouted by several NFL teams, but had not been drafted. Undeterred, he had tried out with several teams and had finally been signed by the Colts as a member of their practice squad. Then after a couple of years he had actually graduated to starting left guard. After that I had lost contact with him for several years until he retired, and I happened to run into him at playoff game by pure chance. The day I saw Bruce at Foxtail a year ago, I was there on business. I didn't like the place and only went there when business required my presence. I'd been there as our company rep and was assigned to a foursome that just happened to include Bruce. We'd played our round, then had drinks with the group, showered, sat in the Jacuzzi with several others chatting and sipping drinks, catching up on news of mutual friends. There was a lot of catching up to do, and while we did, the place cleared out and we had the Jacuzzi to ourselves. He had noticed the empty locker room, and had moved over closer to me. I had recognized his intent and moved toward him knowing he wanted to fondle my cock under the cover of the hot bubbles. But before he even got close enough to touch me he said quietly, "I wanna suck you." I couldn't move fast enough to accommodate him. I'd been thinking of him sucking me, and then either me sucking him or letting him fuck my plump bottom till he shot his hot cream all over my bottom, from the minute I'd seen him that morning. I jumped up and sat on the rim of the Jacuzzi and spread my legs for him as he moved between them and watched as my cock disappeared into his mouth. He felt so good, I didn't care who saw us. He knew what I liked, but made me beg for it first. He sucked me easily, taking my modest size entirely in his mouth, ran his fingers up and down my cleft and teased my hole, till I begged him to finger fuck me. Instead he had just teased me, and ignored my pleas to fuck me and continued to suck me lightly, licking my cap, lapping my balls, and occasionally pushing my legs up to allow him to run his warm wet tongue up and down my cleft, and tickle my hole. Finally, he slipped one thick finger part way up my eager anal slot causing me to moan, and push my ass back on to his exploring finger, but he pulled it out and said, "Patience," and continued to leisurely suck me while at the same time preventing me from getting too close to orgasm. Finally, he had penetrated my bottom with two fingers causing me to moan, and wiggle my bottom on his fingers, then he penetrated with me a third finger and I lost control and I shot my entire load into his wet mouth before he could stop by orgasm. He wouldn't let me suck him at all because he knew I'd make him pay for making me wait so long and because said "he'd wanted to fuck me since he saw me that morning." I had happily turned around and bent over the rim of the Jacuzzi, lowering my belly to spread my bottom wide and presenting him my eager hole. I had gasped as he slid his wonderful hot cock up my eager bottom happily pushing back against him to let him know how muck I enjoyed the feel of him fucking me. Unfortunately, from my perspective, he'd been way too horny and he'd cum too soon, and shot his warm cum all over my bottom after only what I thought was a few short strokes. A further unfortunate fact was that he was scheduled for a meeting in the next state the next morning, and his plane was leaving that night so that was the last time I'd actually seen him for almost a year. At the time I didn't think anyone had seen us, but now, given what Hal was hinting at, I wondered. "Was Bruce here in town? I didn't think so. He had been living and working in New York last year, and it was a complete fluke that he had been in town. Then, I seemed to recall that while we had been leaving, Bruce had mentioned a former team mate of his was living in the city, and coaching football at the State College down the road. I tried to remember what the man looked like, but had trouble. We had been in the parking lot, as he was about to leave for the airport, and a large pleasant looking black man approached us, nodded to me and asked Bruce where he'd been because he'd heard he was here, had come over to see him and had been looking all over for him. Bruce had introduced him as an old team mate, and it was clear they knew each other very well, and wanted some time to talk, so I had said something like, "nice to meet you," and told Bruce, "It was nice to you after all these years etc." said, "good bye," and left. I was on the freeway 30 minutes later when Bruce called my cell and told me, this guy had made a comment that made Bruce think he would like to meet me for a drink to discuss "some business," and he had given me the guy's name and phone number. I had thought then that Bruce's call was a little strange because he had never called me before or, since about business, and he knew I wasn't in the sales part of the business. But, I'd called the guy, got an answering machine, left a message, never heard back, and had forgotten about it. I wondered if I still had the guy's name. I went into my office and checked my calendar for the July day I had called the guy. I usually made notes of who I called on business on the calendar, and there is was. The name, Bill Dawson, a phone number, and my note I'd left him a message. I picked up the phone intending to call, but hesitated, and then replaced the receiver. I sat down in front of my computer and searched the name. In 3 minutes I was looking at a photograph of the guy. He was indeed the coach of the State U team, and was an ex team mate of Bruce. I kept looking and in a few more minutes I found several photos and news articles that noted Bill Dawson had been an All Pro Center in the NFL and had been involved in local politics in a Southern state, but that some unnamed rumor had ended his promising political career. He had then accepted the coaching job at State U several years ago. I wondered what Bruce had told Bill about me, and why would Bruce suggest I meet with Bill? Then it occurred to me that they might have been lovers at some point and Bruce had confided something about our relationship to Bill, and maybe Bill had then expressed interest. That would explain the unusual call about a business meeting with Bill. Then I wondered if Hal had had any connections with Bill Dawson or the State U football program. I logged into our Customer Relations data base and ran a search for anything that included any mix of those names and got a list of meetings, donations, and even several photos - including a few of Hal and Bill on different fishing boats posing beside different large trophy fish. The caption under the photos usually read something like, "Hal and Bill Dawson after a good day fishing." Then it occurred to me that I didn't know much about our V.P. of HR and PR. I did a new search for Halston Johnson in our employee files, and using my corporate officer's password got his private personnel file. It said remarkably little about him personally, just the normal pedigree of schools, grades, job history, address, relatives, and persons to contact in case of an emergency. I stopped. No relatives were listed. No parents. No family at all was mentioned. The only contact person listed was - Bill Dawson. Now I was sure. Hal was gay -- and way back in the closet -- along with me and my bisexuality. Only my wife, and a couple of men I dated very discretely, knew about my other sexual interest. I ran a search in our data base on Hal and the two men I'd dated over the last year, and one of them, Bryan, came up on a fishing trip with Hal -- both smiling happily in several photos standing next to large fish. I sat back and stared at the screen for a long time. I was willing to wager a month's salary, the mystery guest on the fishing trip would either be Bill Dawson or Bryan. I thought it would most likely be Bryan, simply because I had had a long time relationship with him, and if he had something going with Hal he could make the introductions easier, whereas I'd never had any kind of private contact with either Hal or Bill. The thought of spending a few private hours with Hal and Bryan made my cock twitch and begin to harden. I hadn't been involved in an all male three-some in a couple years, but come to think of it, Bryan had mentioned the possibility of a three-some when I'd seen him last month, and I'd said that if he knew someone that was interested in meeting us, I'd certainly like to meet him. The fact that I was likely to find out if Hal was indeed gay and interested in me was exciting. Then I glanced at the clock, it was almost 9 p.m. If I wanted to actually find out, I'd better start getting ready. I could fantasize later. Tomorrow was going to be interested no matter who showed up. Fishing Brenda is still looking for whoever it was she met on the jetty that day. If she ever finds out I strongly suspect I’ll have to leave the country because she was sure furious about what happened. Let me give you a little background on Brenda. She was either eighteen or nineteen, I’m not sure which. Big breasted, but not floppy big, if you know what I mean. Those breasts stood high and firm. She had a nice curvy figure, a really pert little behind and long shapely legs. Brenda’s hair was black as a crow’s feathers, so dark it almost seemed to glow blackness. In contrast to that she had light blue eyes, an unusual and appealing combination. Vivacious of manner, personal and friendly and, as far as the boys knew, virginal. No-one had ever claimed to have had any sexual success with her. It was only natural that a number of the local boys had chanced their arm with Brenda. Her hand must have been quite sore at times from slapping at boys who were groping at her more prominent attributes. I was damned positive that she knew what an erection looked like because I knew of at least two of the lads who’d proudly whipped theirs out and shown her, thinking she’d fall in lust with them. Tony got a black eye when he did it. Bobby wasn’t that lucky. Fit and athletic, Brenda had an unusual hobby. She liked to go fly-fishing. She even tied her own flies. One of her favourite spots was a little jetty just up the road from my place. I’d seen her there quite often, early in the morning or late in the evening. I’ll admit that I especially kept an eye out for her in the evenings after a hot summer day. When fishing Brenda had this habit of wearing this sort of shift that was bunched up just above her breasts, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. What she probably didn’t know was that as the sun went down, leaving her outlined against it, that dress was effectively transparent, giving me a view that was very much appreciated. As far as I could see, and I could see quite a bit, she didn’t wear a bra while casting. She’d just be standing out on that little jetty in her dress and a pair of panties. Made a man wonder, seeing her highlighted like that. I do a bit of fly-fishing myself and I’ve used that creaky old jetty that Brenda uses. I was pleased to notice one day that someone had given the old jetty a facelift. Well, not so much a facelift as a silencer. They’d gone out there with a hammer and some nails and fastened all the loose boards. One could walk along the jetty now without the musical accompaniment that the squeaky old boards used to give. They’d also cleared away the rubbish around the sides of the jetty, and about time, too. Trouble was, that nice squeaky clean and silent jetty started me thinking interesting thoughts. Wrong thoughts, some would say, but interesting for all that. I’m ashamed to have to admit that I gave some serious consideration to those thoughts and how they could be carried out. It was a hot Friday evening a few days later when I saw Brenda heading down to the jetty, rod in hand. I gave her some time to get her sport in and then wandered in that direction myself. Reaching the jetty the sun was setting quickly and dusk was upon us. You could see quite clearly for your immediate surroundings but things were dimming out at any sort of distance. We were effectively in private out there on the jetty. Brenda had a strike and her entire attention was on her line and the fish she was going to land. She didn’t even know I was behind her until I took the hem of that shift dress and lifted it straight up into the air and over her head. It was like I thought. That dress was designed to unclip and then drop, letting her step out of it. Lifting it up and over her head caught her arms and tangled them in the dress above her head, not helped by the fact that I slipped a loop of cord over the dress (and her arms) and pulled it tight. One moment Brenda was getting ready to land a nice trout, the next her hands were tied above her head and she was effectively blindfolded and gagged by her own dress. The loop of cord also prevented her from getting at the fastenings and undoing the dress. (On a side note, she also lost her rod and the fish. I just knew that wouldn’t please her.) By this stage it was dawning on Brenda that she was effectively nude bar a small pair of lacy panties, but before she had a chance to worry about that I’d attended to that last little detail, drawing her panties down to her ankles. Brenda started to kick and struggle at this stage but that was OK. I lifted her up and her kicking very neatly disposed of her panties for me. Carrying Brenda, I stepped off the jetty and laid her on to the nice sandy section that someone had thoughtfully laid there when they did the jetty clean up. Brenda was still wriggling and kicking and I could hear muffled sounds coming from under the dress. Not the sort of language I’d expected her to use. It just goes to show, you never can tell. Of course, having Brenda kicking and struggling wasn’t in my plans. A sharp spank on the bottom caused her to pause her struggling for a moment. As soon as the struggling resumed I gave her another sharp spank and waited. She learned fast. It only took four or five spanks for her to learn she wasn’t to struggle. Now it was time to explore my prize. I cupped her breasts, squeezing gently. Brenda tensed and seemed about to start struggling, but a gentle tap on the bottom as a reminder calmed her down. With that I started admiring her breasts physically. I stroked those wonderful globes, cupped them and squeezed them. I rolled her nipples around, feeling them harden and stand tall like good little soldiers. I tasted her, kissing and laving her breasts, suckling on her nipples. I could almost feel them swelling under my touch and Brenda, while moving around under my touch, wasn’t struggling. I have no doubt that she’d deny it but several times she turned her breasts towards my seeking mouth, offering them to me. After a while I checked to be certain that the cord was still nicely fastened, holding her firmly. It was, and I was pleased about that, because when my hand closed over her mound she almost jumped straight up into the air. A stream of abuse came from under her dress, muffled fortunately, because I’m sure that I would have blushed if I heard it properly. Her earlier spanking lesson held, and Brenda didn’t try to struggle, just abused me while I started further depravations upon her person. I slid off my trousers and lay next to her, one of my legs pressing firmly between hers. I didn’t use any force. Just pressed between her legs, letting her hold them closed while my hands roamed around her body, travelling up to her breasts and then wandering back down to her pussy. With her legs closed it was hard to do any serious entertainment where Brenda’s pussy was concerned. I was limited to massaging her mons and rubbing the tops of her lips, scratching lightly along the upper end of her slit and waiting. If you keep up a gentle pressure, it is very hard to resist it. The person fighting the pressure puts a lot more effort in resisting than you do in pressing forward. The weight of my knee pressing between hers wasn’t much when I started and Brenda could resist easily. But the strain on her muscles as she tried to hold her legs firmly together began to tell, and each time she relaxed a little her legs were parted just that little bit more and she couldn’t regain any lost ground. I heard her give a final frustrated scream and then her legs yielded to the pressure, parting to let my leg slip between them. My hand natural followed suit, sliding along her pussy and taking full possession of it. Now I had something to work with. My fingers stroked and dipped, caressed and squeezed, stirring her pussy to reluctant life. My fingers slipped in and out, building up the tension, giving Brenda a hint of what was to come. When I finally felt Brenda responding and pushing up against my intruding digits I changed tack once more. Instead of sliding in and out my finger stayed inside her, stroking and seeking. A little bit of exploring and I was brushing against her clitoris. The first time my fingers touched it I could feel Brenda jump in shock, and that initial jump became a constant tremor as I started seriously paying attention to her there. I steadily flicked and caressed her clit, feeling her responses building. She was screaming and tossing her head back and forth, not knowing what to do about this exquisite torture. I continued playing until I felt her stiffen. Her internal muscles were trying to clamp onto my fingers and Brenda was shuddering. Satisfied that she’d had a climax I decided that it was now my turn. I pushed her legs wider, lifting her knees. Brenda must have known what was coming but she didn’t flinch. She just lay there, hips raised slightly, waiting. I didn’t keep her waiting long. I eased forward, felt her hymen and pushed briskly through it. She squealed at that but it was mainly a pro forma squeal I think. Brenda certainly wasn’t backward about accepting my cock as I drove into her. As I drove down her legs arced up and closed around me, clinging to me. Brenda was hot, wet and tight. Very tight. I had to slowly force myself into her. Her internal muscles were nervously clenched, automatically resisting me. Again I moved slowly, applying a constant pressure, not trying to compel her to yield but just leaving her no choice but to slowly give way to my intrusion. And every little advance made the next advance that much easier. Brenda seemed to suddenly relax and I finally drove home the last couple of inches with a quick movement. I held there for a moment, letting her know that she was conquered and mine to use as I wished. The moment seemed to stretch, then I pulled slowly out, very slowly withdrawing until just the head of my cock was still inside her. This time my entry was faster and smoother. There was no resistance, with Brenda just letting me drive home. I didn’t pull back for another thrust right away. I wanted Brenda to cooperate and participate, not just lie there. Although fully inside her, I pressed hard against her and then relaxed without withdrawing. And again, just causing a repeating pressure against her pussy while staying fully within her. After a while I could feel an answering pressure and a mutual relaxation. Now that Brenda had started moving with me I started drawing back a bit before returning. She had the rhythm now, her hips pressing up to meet my strokes, which at this stage were still quite gentle. I could hear Brenda making muffled sounds under her gagging dress, but whether in pleasure, anger or indifference I couldn’t tell. I could tell that her pussy was no longer indifferent, moving smoothly up to meet me with each thrust. While enjoying myself, what we were doing wasn’t enough. The way Brenda was starting to writhe under me I suspected it wasn’t enough for her either, so I started work in earnest. After one long gentle stroke had been met with suspicious eagerness, I pulled fully back, paused, and then thrust back in hard and fast. I actually heard Brenda squeal at that stroke but her hips still thrust up quickly to meet it. As far as I was concerned that was the signal and I started driving in full force, daring Brenda to match me. For someone so experienced, Brenda had plenty of drive. She was arching her back, pushing up to greet me, welcoming my insistent ravishment of her body. I could hear muffled squeals and screams of excitement as our bodies duelled, with Brenda apparently lost to everything but the excitement being raised within her. I was having fun and things were going so well that I was taken by surprise when Brenda suddenly climaxed again. She gave a shriek and I could feel her squeezing my cock hard while she lay shuddering under me, her legs kicking loose and waving at the sky. Instead of continuing to pound her as she lay there half stunned I did what any red-blooded man would do. I pulled out, flipped Brenda over onto her tummy, lifted her bottom up and was driving back into her, hard and fast. I reached around and took hold of Brenda’s breasts, squeezing them tightly. By the time Brenda started to come down from her climax I was driving vigorously into her. She’d had two now, so she owed me one at least. Brenda seemed to just wait a moment, assessing the changed situation, and then I heard a squeal and her bottom lifted, helping me drive fully into her. From that point it became a race. I was pumping her lustily, eager to reach my own climax while Brenda was responding with fire and fury, practically flinging herself against my rampaging weapon. As my own climax neared I was pounding her harder and harder, mauling her breasts unmercifully, then I was shooting into her, hearing her outraged scream followed quickly by a startled gasp and a shriek as a third climax hit her. This time when I withdrew I kept on going, fading out of the area. Well, not out of the area so much as out of Brenda’s sight. I did stay back in the shadows to make sure that she got herself untangled and that no-one tried to molest her while she was in an awkward predicament. Brenda eventually realised that I was gone, got her hands free and found her panties. That’s when she found her rod was missing, her catch having towed it into the water while she was entertaining me. That’s why she’s so mad about the whole affair. She was prepared to take the rape as one of those things that happen and she’ll be more careful in future. The rod was a good one but it could be replaced. The trout, however, had been Old Gramps. Everyone had been after that old bastard for years. It probably weighed in at about twenty pounds and Brenda had snagged him. She had all but landed him when somebody had caused her to drop her rod and he’d got away. No-one believes she hooked him, which makes her even madder. Like I said, if she ever finds out it was me I’ll have to emigrate.