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Reel Men

 

The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in
locations where it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT
read. This is a copyrighted work. Reposting or any other use strictly
prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder,
except may be posted as part of a review or posted to free-access,
noncommercial archive sites.

Copyright 1999 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please! Give me your comments!

Dear Reader: This is a romance of sorts, possibly humorous, definitely
vanilla, except for multiple adulteries. All characters in this story are
fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. :-) E.Z.

REEL men
Their voices carried down the hall from the family room to the kitchen.

"Damn! This'll be our fourteenth straight weekend of fishing," Joe Bob
said excitedly.

His wife Molly looked at me across the kitchen table. There was a warm
twinkle in her eye.

Another man's voice said, "Chuck, is your brother a queer?"

"Jesus Christ, keep your fucking voice down. The women can hear you,"
Chuck replied amid the snickers from the others.

My brother wasn't speaking to Jesus, of course. He was speaking to
Junior, one of his good-ole'boy fishing buddies.

"Well, shit. He acts queer."

"He just doesn't like to fish."

"That's what I mean. Any man who don't fish ain't a real man."

I heard the whoops and Chuck's heavy footsteps before he slammed the
door leading down the hall.

"My signal to leave," Molly said, pushing back from the kitchen table.

"Me, too," Bessie chimed in. "Can we do anything before we go?"

"Oh, no. It's all done," Abby replied as she stood. "Penny's staying
over. She doesn't want to be alone while the guys are gone. Jamie'll be
here this weekend. He'll keep us company and babysit tomorrow while we
shop."

Molly and Bessie each kissed me on the cheek, then went to the family room to say goodbye to their husbands. Abby saw her guests out. Penny sat
at the table with me. She was the new woman in the group because her
husband was the new fisherman in the club. Penny was twenty, although
Junior was thirty-two, the same as Chuck. She was average in size and
shape. She had two distinguishing features. She was very quiet. And she
was seven months pregnant.

Junior wasn't the first of Chuck's friends to find humor at my expense.
Chuck could have put an end to it if he wanted to. But he didn't. Chuck
didn't think of me as one of the guys. Whatever he did for me was because
I was his half-brother and, on her deathbed, mother asked him to watch out
for me.

He and I are not alike. Chuck's seven years older. He's a big, burly,
outdoor type who owns a construction company. I'm shorter and slightly
built. Chuck employs me as his office manager while I get my master's
degree. His face would be called ruggedly masculine. My face is pretty.
Not handsome. Pretty.

To top it off, there are our names. He's Chuck. It's short, strong.
I'm Jamie. mother named me James William. Nobody calls me that. They
don't call me James or Jim or even Jimmy. It's Jamie. It's always been
Jamie.

"Baby, we're leaving," Junior shouted from the doorway. Penny arduously
stood to go kiss him goodbye. Shortly, she returned with Abby.

I like Abby. She's Chuck's age. They've been married ten years and
have two children. She's a good woman, with a ready smile and a warm
heart. She understands Chuck and his friends. She loves him in spite of
his faults, or, perhaps, because of them.

"Ask him yourself," Abby said to Penny as they reentered the room.

"Ask me what?" I said.

Penny turned beet red again. She couldn't look at me.

"What is it, Penny?" I said.

"Jamie, are you, I mean, well . . . "

"Am I what?"

"Are you a queer?"

"That's not a nice word, Penny. Homosexuals prefer to be called gay."

"I'm sorry," she gushed as she flashed red again. "I didn't mean
anything bad by it."

"No offense taken. Sit here and we can talk," I said, pulling a chair
back from the table.

Abby'd been watching with an amused smile. When Penny hesitated, she
gently pushed her toward the chair.

"Sit and talk with him, Penny. He's interesting. Have you ever talked
to a man before?"

"Not really. Junior's not much for talk unless it's about his hobbies.
My daddy's the same way," she said as she lowered herself into the chair.

"Jamie's a good talker. Talk to him. Talk all night if you like. I'm
going to get ready for bed."

It took awhile before Penny came out of her shell. Once she got
started, Penny herself was quite a talker. When Abby returned in her
nightshirt, she saw we were engrossed. She excused herself and went to
bed. We talked about everything except my sexuality. Penny didn't want to
hurt me by asking. There was a warm and very sweet woman inside her. It
was a pleasure to see her come alive.

Time flew and it got very late. Penny was yawning. This yawn was a big
one she didn't even try to stifle. She stretched and rubbed her back,
trying to reach the lower part of her spine.

"Backache?" I asked.

"Yes. My momma says the worst part of being pregnant's the backaches.
They're even worse than the delivery because they last longer."

"I'll rub it for you," I said.

She froze to stare at me. I imagined the wheels spinning in her brain.
Finally, she smiled.

"Well, since it's you, I guess it's all right," she said.

I waited outside the guest bedroom until she called me to come in. She
wore a thick cotton nightgown, which came to her knees. It fit tightly
across her bloated stomach.

"You look beautiful," I said.

"No, I don't. I'm ugly," she snapped. She turned red, looking away
shyly. "But it's nice of you to say."

"You're beautiful. What makes you think you're not?"

"Pregnant women are ugly. That's what Junior says." Her tone indicated
a sureness of knowledge, as if quoting the Gospel according to Junior.

"Junior's wrong. Pregnant women are beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're a beautiful flower about to bloom."

Her tender face told me what I'd said pleased her, but she didn't
believe it. She gave me that shy smile again. "Come rub my back, Jamie,"
she said.

She lay on her side with her back to me. I began to rub through the
cotton of her nightgown. She was quiet as I worked the lower part of her
spine.

"I've never met a man like you before," she said quietly. "Who thinks
I'm beautiful. Who likes talking to me. A man who likes me."

"Junior likes you, doesn't he?"

"He likes what I do for him, I think. He's never said. I don't really
know if he likes me. You know what I mean?"

"I understand. I like you, Penny. And, I like talking to you. You're
a lovely woman."

She sighed. It was almost a sob.

"Say, this backrub'll feel a lot better if I get some lotion and rub
your bare back," I said.

She hesitated the longest time before saying, "All right."

When I returned with the lotion, she was on her side again and the
nightgown was gone. She was wearing a bra and panties. I started at the
base of her spine. Her tension and pain were evident. Gradually, her
muscles loosened. I slowly worked my way up her back. As I massaged, we
talked intermittently. A question from her, or a short comment. An answer
from me. Little pieces of conversation.

She tensed when I undid her bra. The soothing effects of my hands on
her upper back quickly banished that tension. I did her shoulders and
neck.

"That feels so good," she murmured. She sounded relaxed and tired. "My
back doesn't ache for the first time in days."

"I'm glad, Penny. Roll over and I'll do your legs."

She rolled over. One hand kept her bra in place. I spent a lot of time
on her right foot. Slowly and thoroughly, I worked my way up her leg.
When I looked at her face again, her head was propped on her hand. She was
watching me over her stomach. Her eyes were puffy; her lids were heavy.
The right corner of her lips twitched and turned up.

"You're a very sweet man, Jamie. The sweetest man I ever met."

I smiled in response, but didn't reply. She wasn't finished talking
yet.

"But - you're not gay, are you?"

"No," I answered.

The other corner twitched and she smiled.

"Good," she whispered.

She slipped off her bra and dropped it to the floor. Her nipples were
dusky pink and erect.

I didn't change the rhythm of the massage. I continued slowly. There
was a mother's loving, passive softness to her face when I gently rubbed
her stomach with lotion, working it into her skin. Twice I felt movement
of the little body inside her. I wondered if Junior ever took that
pleasure.

Her eyes closed and she groaned when I massaged her breasts. She lifted
her hips willingly when I tugged on her panties. I reached for the lotion.
"I've had enough massage, Jamie," she said very softly.

I undressed and lay down by her. I slid under her legs to let us form a
T.

"Junior says the man's always on top. I should'a known that'd be
different, too."

I snugged my cock head between the lips of her sex. Her eyes opened
widely when I stopped. I kissed the palm of her hand. She smiled and
tightened her legs, drawing me into her. Her eyes never left mine. Her
smile never ceased. We were slow and gentle. I was surprised how quickly
she orgasmed. Her second orgasm hit her. Her face was indeed beautiful as
she squeezed my hand. Her eyes started to close in sleep. I slipped out
of her, still hard and unfulfilled.

"I'm sorry you didn't cum. I'll make it up to you next time. I
promise," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it. I loved it," I replied. I kissed her lips
gently.

"Me, too. You're magnificent," she said as she drifted off.

I gathered my clothes and quietly eased out of the room. I opened the
door down the hall. In the dark, I found the bed and climbed into it.

She pressed against me. Her nipples were hot diamond points against my
chest. Her hand seized my cock.

"Oh, good! You're still hard!"

"I'm surprised you're awake," I said as my hand caressed the cheek of
her ass.

"I couldn't sleep. I masturbated thinking about you two and that just
made me hornier. I need a long, hard fucking."

"Be quiet, woman, and get on your back," I said in a pompous baritone.

She laughed bawdily as she rolled over and pulled me between her legs.

"What will we wives do if you decide to become a 'real man' and take up
fishing?"

The End

Please! Give me your comments!

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com






 

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