The Big One

a (revised) Short Story by Kellis

Copyright © January, 2000, Kellis

 

Haley’s first awareness of company was the booming of heavy footsteps on the pier.  Her head snapped up from a trance-like contemplation of the gently bobbing cork and her eyes swept around from her perch on the edge of the rock.  She saw a grown man, at least six feet tall, broad shouldered but narrow of hip, march out the length of the gray wooden structure, workboots resounding with each step.  He wore blue jeans and a clean white tee shirt.  His hair was dark brown, cut short and curly.  In profile his face was rugged but unfamiliar.  Clearly he was a stranger:  his arms and the back of his neck were pale white.

The pier was built out about 50 feet from the shore at a spot perhaps a hundred yards from Haley’s rock, which itself jutted out over the water.  Had it been later in the day, she would have been dangling her line into the shade of the pier, but she knew from long experience that the particular bass she sought, one that had escaped her hook twice before, favored the hollow under her rock at this hour of the morning while the sun was low.  She had seen the flash of his belly several times as he rolled in pursuit of a meal.  A big one he was, ten pounds or more.  Patience and perseverance were the virtues that worked with fish, according to Aunt Mabel.  “And with men,” she had added, looking appraisingly at Haley’s rounded figure.  “That plus juicy bait.”

The air was morning quiet.  Neither bird nor insect was yet calling frequently.  A moderate shout would carry easily to the pier.  She thought of yelling a good morning.  But the man was the newcomer.  Her rock and its occupied state were readily discernible from the path to the pier.  The obligation to call out had been his — which he had ignored.  Haley’s eyes narrowed and her lower lip extended itself slightly.

The man reached the end, sat down on the planking and immediately removed boots and socks.  To paddle in the cool water?  No, the level was too far below the pier even for his long legs.  He stood up barefooted.  Hands fumbled briefly at his waist and he removed his jeans in one sweeping motion, nimbly clearing his feet in a one-two hop reminiscent of skipping rope.

She opened her mouth and gathered a lung full of air.  But he turned slightly toward her as he laid the britches aside.  For only the second time in her life she saw adult male genitals.

And he must know she could see them!

Or did he?  She looked down at her own blue jeans and workboots.  She was wearing a sleeveless blouse, frilly at the low neckline.  But approaching on the path, he could not have seen her frills from the back.  And she had cut her brown hair short for the summer.  As a stranger, he couldn’t know about her morning fishing habit, or that she was the daughter of the man who owned most of the land on this side of the lake.

And now it was too late to tell him.  He stood naked, poised on the lip of the pier.  The low sun outlined the muscles in his back and shoulders.  His buttocks gleamed.  Flaccid penis and scrotum were outlined in profile by the glittering lake surface, clearly enough even at that distance for her to determine his circumcised state, similar to but twice the size of her little brother’s equipment.

He sprang outward, diving into the water with hardly a splash.  He surfaced after a long glide and began to swim straight away from shore with strong but economical strokes.  She watched his progress, marveling at his speed and splashless efficiency.  The lake was half a mile wide at this point.  He was soon so distant as to be lost in the myriad reflections on the wind-ruffled surface.  She wondered if he meant to swim the whole width!

He had laid shirt neatly atop pants on the pier, the whole weighted down with his boots.  Not a thoughtless man, then.  Here was one who knew what he was doing — except for trusting her not to steal his clothing or the wallet presumably in his jeans.  She was tempted to stroll around to the pier, retrieve the wallet and discover his identity.  But his inability to prevent it reminded her of her own situation:  armed only with rod and reel, alone on an unpeopled lake shore with a strong and powerful stranger, her nearest succor half a mile over the hill, beyond even screaming distance unless they were listening for her — which, accustomed to her vagaries, they weren’t.

She detected an enduring spot in the distant glitter.  She watched it for a minute.  He was now returning.

The smart thing to do would be to depart.  Except … he had trusted her, which was not the act of an unprincipled person.  She chuckled wryly:  besides that, she would like to see his penis again.  For a moment she considered hiding all his clothes, but a man so confident as this one would probably force her to reveal them, even if he had to display himself to a discovered female, with consequences she feared to contemplate.

Hey!  He seemed to be swimming toward her rock instead of the pier.  Eyes wide, she sat up straighter.  In half a minute she was certain of it.  He came steadily on, breasting through the water cleanly, head swinging in time with his strokes.  She began to reel in her line.

Fifty feet away he paused as she secured her hook to a loop on the rod.  When his slight splashes ceased, she looked up into his dark eyes.

He treaded water effortlessly, smiling at her.  His voice was deeply masculine without the breathlessness that swimming more than a few strokes usually imparts.  “Caught anything?”

Sometimes her own mouth surprised her.  This was such a time.  “Just you.”

He laughed.  “I meant fish.  If you’re having luck I’d not want to interfere.”

“It’s a public lake.”

“Then may I join you?”

She took a breath.  “Do I have to remind you?”

His eyes twinkled.  “That I’m naked?”

She fell silent.

He asked, “Would it bother you?”

What a stupid question! she thought, but her mouth said, “Someone might come.”

His eyebrows rose.  “Do you really think so?”

“No,” she admitted truthfully.

He gestured with a splash.  “How about joining me?  The water’s great!”

“I don’t have my suit.”

“Well, neither do I.”

That silenced her again, but only momentarily.  She proceeded on a different tack.  “I think you’re the best swimmer I ever saw.  Where did you learn it?”

“Thanks!” he responded.  “I grew up around pools and lakes.  I’m on the school swim team.”

“What school?”

“Tech.  I’m a junior.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just get out of jail?”

He laughed again.  “We swim indoors.”

She grinned.  “I’ll admit I never heard of a prison with a swimming pool.”  Her mirth faded.  “You knew I was female, didn’t you?”

His eyes twinkled.  “They told me that Haley Walker, whose father owns this side of the lake, likes to fish here every nice morning.”

“Who are ‘they?’”

“My cousins, the Arlingtons.”  He named the family that owned the other half of the land, or most of it.  Jane Arlington was Haley’s sometime friend.

She said, “You’re Robert, aren’t you?”

He grinned.  “Jane told you I was visiting?”

“No.  But she talks about you a lot.”

“I hope nothing too evil.”

“Not too evil!”

He laughed, then gestured with his head.  “Do come in.”

She shook her head.  “I’d rather you came out.”

His expression showed disappointment but he said only, “Okay.”  His quickness surprised her.  In a few powerful kicks he reached the rock and with muscles bunching huge in arms and shoulders, levered himself up onto its surface.  She took a firm grip on her fishing rod and her emotions.  He spun about to sit beside her, close but not touching, leaning back on extended hands.  His manhood was frankly exposed just beyond her own crossed knees.  Far more than an effect of distance, the penis was distinctly larger than it had been before he entered the water.  The exposed glans pouted well out from the scrotum, a bit of lake water in its eye.  Presumably lake water.  Beads of water clung to the thick, wiry hair around it but matted the softer hair on his legs.

Her mouth!  Someday she hoped to get control of it.  Now it said curiously, “Swimming does that to you?”

“Not swimming.  Knowing you were watching.”

She twisted her torso enough to see his face, behind her because of his relaxed pose.  “A girl watching stimulates a man?”

“Of course, when he knows she knows he’s showing off for her.”

She shook her head.  “I didn’t know you knew I was female.  You had only seen me from the back.”

“It’s pretty clear from the side, Haley.”

“Huh!  You never looked at me once from the pier.”

He grinned.  “That’s why you didn’t run away — you thought I didn’t know?”

“One reason.  Why were you so disappointed when I wouldn’t swim with you?”

His eyes twinkled.  “I thought you would want to keep your clothes dry.”

“I see.”  She nodded.  “Well, you’re right, I would.”

She got to her feet, stood the fishing rod in the metal standard long ago driven into the rock, and extended a foot toward him.  “Pull,” she ordered.  Jeans followed boots, then her blouse.  She laid both garments in the hollow at the back of the rock and smoothed them out with her hands.  She backed up to the man.  “Unhook it.”  Brassiere and panties fell atop the outer clothing, boots atop all.

She turned to look down at him.  His eyes raked her even tan.  The penis had grown larger still.  Without a word she ran forward and dived into the water.

Shock — cold but familiar!  She had hardly surfaced before he appeared beside her.  She smiled at him.  “Getting what you want?” she asked.

His eyes were very bright.  “So far.”

His arms pulled her against him and they kissed, treading water automatically to keep their heads clear.  His penis probed the pad at the bottom of her belly while his tongue worked its way between her teeth.  She yielded above water, sucking him into her mouth, following his tongue with her own when he finally withdrew.  His hands massaged her breasts.  She began to tingle.

He asked, “Can you float with your head back?”

She released him, filled her lungs and stretched herself out on the placid water.  His head rose between her legs and she felt his probing tongue.  His hands helped support her hips.  She relaxed as the thrills began.

With head thrown back her ears were under water.  She could hear only distant gurgles and see only cloudless blue sky.  Careful to maintain her buoyancy by breathing only in the top of her lungs, she felt the water’s gentle massage and the fire spreading from her genitals.

At orgasm, when his tongue became unbearable, she kicked free, turned over and swam away from him.  He was instantly beside her.  “Okay?” he asked.  “Are you okay?”

“Let’s go to the rock.”

It was only a few strokes.  She clung to the lip, drained of energy, in a lassitude deeper than she could remember.  He forced his way past her, turned about, took her hands and raised her out of the water to sit against him.  She clung to him and again they kissed.  His flavor was different now.  Thought of the reason for it restored some of her energy.

“Robert, I’m a virgin,” she admitted in a low voice, her face in his neck.

“I know.”

“You do?”

She heard tenderness in his voice.  “I’ve just learned a lot about you, Haley.”

“You can tell with your tongue?”

“Of course.”

She could remember it inside her.  She shivered.  But she had to say it.  “I don’t want to change that … yet.”

He was silent, holding her against his warmth.  Her hand dropped to his swollen organ.

“But I owe you.”

Again he was silent.  She raised her face to look at him.  His eyes were closed but his lips were parted.  In anticipation?  She slipped down in his arms and took the heat of him into her mouth.

He sighed mightily and fell back on his elbows.  She bent close over him, one hand on the shaft, the other fondling below it.  She found everything better defined, looser, larger and infinitely hairier than her little brother’s equivalent.  Driven by curiosity, she removed her face far enough to study the foldings of glans and urethra, especially the cord beneath it whose sensitivity her brother had reported, before resuming her suction.

She was also curious of her own capacity.  Though well padded, such a large object filling the back of the throat gagged her, but she restrained her gorge even when her nose touched the hair at the bottom of his belly.

She would have enjoyed a longer study, but he warned her in a tight voice, “Haley, I’m going to come.”

She raised her head to his grimace and asked curiously, “You don’t want to do it in my mouth?”

The freed organ twitched and emitted one clear rivulet.  He ordered, “God, put it back!” and followed the words with a groan.

Dutifully her lips re-enveloped it, tongue reaching for the escaping stream.  To her surprise it jetted forcefully into her throat.  She froze wonderingly.  Another jet filled her mouth and leaked past lips she had failed to close.  The liquid was cool and tasteless, neither of which she could have imagined.  Finding no grounds to object, she swallowed the remainder along with the entirety of his third jet, having clamped her lips at last.

She resumed her suction.  The man’s body stiffened immediately and he grunted explosively.  His hands clasped her head and forced her mouth away.  Suddenly she understood.  Her mouth must have become unbearable to him as his tongue had to her.

He fell back, an arm thrown over his face, panting, as she rocked back on her heels.  But after a few breaths he sat up on his elbows, stared at her and began to chuckle.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“You — asking if I didn’t want to come in your mouth.”

“Why was that funny?”

“Because that’s a dream blow-job!”

“Every man wants it?”

“Sure!”

“Well, why did you warn me, then?”

“Because I thought you might not want it.”  He studied her expression.  “This was your first time, wasn’t it?”

She took a breath.  “What if it was?”

“And you swallowed, too, didn’t you?”

“The … seminal fluid?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t I have?  Everybody says it won’t hurt you.”

He grinned.  “It won’t get you pregnant, if that’s what you mean.  What did you think of it?”

“It was …”

“What?”

“Tasteless.  But interesting.”

He cocked an eyebrow.  “You really didn’t mind?”

She shook her head.  “No.  I owed you.”

“Haley, you’re an honest girl.  So I got a cherry after all!”

She grinned.  “Maybe.  But I did better.

“What do you mean?”

She put out her hand and lifted the drooping organ with its blushing glans.  “A plum beats a cranberry.”

He snorted, “A cranberry!” but matched her grin.  “I’ll bet you never got cunny-licked in deep water before, either!”

“You’d win.”

“What did you think of that?”

“Interesting.”

He laughed aloud.  “‘Interesting!’”

He rose to his knees, leaned forward and kissed her with probing tongue.  When he withdrew, she said, “See?  I told you it was tasteless.”

Unaccountably he blushed.  With a chuckle he admitted, “I know you did.   And ‘interesting.’  That’s the word, all right.”

He got to his feet, bowed toward her and said, “Thank you, my dear, for a very interesting morning.”

Before she could react, he spun on his heel and dived off the rock.  She watched him swim quickly to the pier, where he ran up the boat ladder and paused to pull the discarded clothing over his wet body.  He waved and threw her a kiss, both of which she returned, before marching off the pier, up the hill and out of sight.

She donned her own clothing, glanced at the sun’s angle, retrieved her rod and cast her bait back under the rock.  Resuming her original seat, she sighed contentedly and muttered, “Too bad you can’t brag about all the big ones that get away!”

 

--Kellis

kellis@dhp.com

Stories at http://www.dhp.com/~kellis