Date: Tue, 26 May 2020 20:00:33 +0000 (UTC) From: Robert Burke Subject: Fishing with Frank Fishing with Frank By Robert Burke I can't say that I ever knew my dad that well. My parents split up when I was still in kindergarten. I don't know that it was ever so much of a marriage as it was an afterthought. When they met, people were still dealing daisies and flower power instead of crack in the Haight and I always got the impression from my mom, who lost the granny glasses and became an insurance broker, that she and my dad just got married because it seemed like a good idea at the time. She was eighteen and he'd just turned twenty-one. In any event, they split up, she went back to school, and I didn't see much of him again until I was a junior in high school. He always sent her money and made sure that I got a birthday card every year, but the postmarks were from California one year and Montana the next. Mom said that he worked as a contractor when he worked, but that basically he just liked to roam around and see what came his way. The year I turned 16, I got a card from Arizona. On the inside, he'd written that he was heading our way some time in November and we'd go up north and go fishing. When I showed it to my mom, she just laughed and said, "I never knew that your father knew how to fish." She said it would be fine with her if it happened, but not to get my hopes up too high. "Your Dad is a good man, Jason, but he can be forgetful." I nodded and put the card away. November was four months away and, anyway, I didn't know anything about fishing either. Two weeks before Thanksgiving, I came home from school to find the door unlocked and steam coming out of the bathroom. Someone was taking a shower, but my mom hadn't said anything about taking the day off or coming home early. I called out, "Hello?" and heard a man's voice answer, "Jason?" from the bathroom. The water was turned off and a couple of minutes later, a man opened the door wearing only a towel. "Hey, Jason! How's it going?" He was taller than me. Maybe 6'2" or 6'3". He had a long, lean body that seemed perfectly muscled. His chest was broad, like the chests of the guys on the swim team at school, but his was covered with dark brown curly hair that trailed down past his navel and seemed to spread out again just above the towel. Just below, I noticed a heavy bulge in the towel. His brown hair was slicked back from the water, but I could see that he wore it long, just past his shoulders. "I'm Frank, Jason, your dad! I wondered whether you'd recognize me." "Hi," I said tentatively. He put out his hand and I shook it. "Let me dry off and get dressed and then we can have a cup of coffee or something. Your mom said I crash on the couch here until we go fishing next week. You still want to go, don't you?" "I guess. I've never been fishing." He laughed. "Well, neither have I, but I thought we could give it a try. Maybe go up to Mendocino. Whatever. Just give me a minute, okay?" I nodded and went to my room which was right next to the bathroom. I put down my school stuff and gym gear on the bed and opened the closet to hang my jacket on the hook. On the inside of the closet door was a full-length mirror. Hanging up my jacket, I saw that he hadn't closed the door to the bathroom. He had his back to me while he was toweling off. He'd taken off the towel and was rubbing it across his back. I noticed how long and hairy his legs were, with strong calves and thighs. When he put one foot on the edge of the tub and bent over to dry his feet, I noticed his large balls and his dick hanging between his legs, swinging a little with each movement. I caught myself staring and quickly closed the door. He came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of white boxers and pulling a T-shirt over his head. It had the logo of some band I didn't recognize on the front. He reached behind him into the bathroom and took his jeans off the hook. "You drink coffee, Jason?" he asked, hopping from one leg to the other, pulling on the weathered jeans. "Sure, when I can" I answered. "I get tired of Mom's herbal teas." "Coffee it is then," he said walking out of the room. In a minute, I heard beans grinding and the sound of him filling the pot with water. So, we spent the afternoon drinking coffee. He told me about some of his adventures on the road and asked me about school and my grades and what classes I liked. All the usual things adults think that kids are expecting them to ask. I wanted to ask him why he hadn't come to see me more often and tried to kind of sulk for awhile to let him know that I wasn't happy about it, but the more he talked, the easier it was to be with him. He took a rubber band out of his pocket and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Mom eventually came home and made dinner. They had a couple of glasses of wine and compared notes about people that they'd both known back in the day. I didn't say much. I just kept watching his eyes Ð dark brown and always bright and animated. Around eleven, he said that he was beat and needed to sleep. Mom said that she and I needed to get up tomorrow morning, too, and brought out the sheets and pillows and a blanket to the couch in the front room and we all said good night. But I couldn't sleep. I didn't know what I was thinking or why, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw his reflection in the mirror. It was an unseasonably warm night and I'd decided to wear just my shorts to bed instead of my pajamas. I looked at the digital display on my alarm clock and saw that it was almost 3 a.m. I closed my eyes again and again I saw his body and then a rush of images of the older guys in the shower at school after gym, standing under the showers, lathering their bodies, that seemed so much more developed than mine, cupping their balls and pulling on their dicks and laughing with one another. My phys-ed teacher, Mr. Benatar, told me that I had a lot of potential and encouraged me to do some more weight training and to swim more often, but while I did it, I was always aware that my body was still changing. I'd just started shaving a couple of months before, but only a couple of times a week. And while the hair between my legs and under my arms had finally come in last year and I had figured out how to jack myself off a year ago, I knew just by the careful looks I'd given other guys in the locker room that I wasn't somehow finished. I kept my nose in the books and did the weights and the swimming with Mr. Benatar coaching me and didn't think about it too much. When I did, I wanted to ask Mr. Benatar something, but I didn't know what it was. Maybe I just wanted to know when I'd begin feeling the things that everyone else seemed to be feeling. I wondered if I'd be as hairy as Frank and that made me think of his reflection again. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He was asleep in his shorts on the couch, the sheet and blankets tossed off, his face turned into a pillow and a foot dangling from the end. I moved quietly to the kitchen and got a glass of water and drank it off. I looked at him again. The streetlights shining through the window shadowed his body. The dim light played off the hair on his chest and belly. I stood looking at him for a long time. He moved a little and I pulled up against the wall until he was still. Now he was lying on his side and I noticed that the slit in his shorts was open. I put the glass down on the counter and got down on the floor. Crawling on my belly to the side of the couch, trying to hold my breath, I came right up under the couch. I could almost feel him breathing. Leaning on my elbow, I reached up and moved my hand very slowly to the opening of his shorts and put a couple of fingers in through the slit. At first, I felt nothing but the coarse hair. But then I felt something fleshier and warm and realized that he was getting hard. I coaxed his dick with my forefinger until it was hard, looking back and forth between his face and his crotch. The head of his dick appeared through the slit in his shorts and even in the half light of the room I could tell that, unlike me, he'd never been circumcised or "clipped dick" the way some of the guys at school called it. Taking the head between my thumb and forefinger, I edged the head back and saw a large drop, clear and sticky, appear out of it. I moved the skin back just a little further, when I heard him take a deep breath and start to turn over on to his back. I tried to pull my hand away, but his arm dropped across it, resting there for a minute before turned over completely. I waited holding my breath and when I felt sure he was fully asleep again, edged myself away from the bed and back to my room. Lying on my bed, thinking about what I'd done, I realized that I had a full hard on. I'd only learned to jack off last year and usually did it in the shower, so my mom wouldn't find any stains. But that night, I took my cock in my hand and beat it quickly, climaxing in less than a minute, and licking the cum off of my hand. The next couple of days went by and I noticed that I was sometimes making excuses to look at Frank when he was shaving or getting dressed. Once I knocked on the door when I knew he was in the shower and said I needed to get something out of the medicine cabinet. He shouted out "Come on in!" from under the water. When I went in, I snuck a look at him through the clear plastic shower curtain. He was shampooing his hair and had his eyes closed. Standing in the shower in a three-quarter profile, I watched him lathering his hair and the way he seemed to clench and unclench his butt. I watched for a long moment and when he stuck his head under the nozzle quickly opened the medicine cabinet door and grabbed a bottle of something and left. Going back to my room, I realized that I was hard again. I could feel my dick starting to leak and was glad that I was wearing dark shorts that day. I didn't want to have to show up for gym wearing shorts with a damp stain on them, but I grabbed my dick through my pants and squeezed it hard twice. I could feel it leaking. I picked up my backpack and realized that I was still holding the bottle I'd taken out of the bathroom. I'd grabbed my mother's Midol. The weekend came too slowly. I wanted it to come and I wanted it to be over at the same time. My mom was right; Frank was forgetful and never well organized. It wasn't like he was careless; he just got lost in whatever he was doing at the time and forget that things like maps and weather reports could come in handy for a trip like this one. Frank had a lot of the stuff Ð tarp, tent, sleeping bag (but no fishing poles or gear) and decided that we could just take an extra sleeping bag and rent whatever else we needed when we got there. When we finally pulled out of the driveway in his muddy jeep, my mom was waving goodbye and shaking her head at the same time. We drove north for nearly three hours. I found that it was getting easier and easier to talk to him when it was just the two of us. He was really curious about my life and how things were going for me. He asked me questions about myself Ð why I kept my hair so short, what kind of music I listened to. But when he asked whether or not I had a girlfriend, I said I didn't and got really quiet. We drove on for awhile in silence until he put a hand on my thigh and patted it. "Don't worry about it, Jason. That stuff all comes together in time." We got to Fort Bragg by late afternoon and started to look around for a campground. That was just about the time that large drops of rain started falling. "Looks like the campground isn't going to be a good idea for tonight, Jason." We pulled into the parking lot of a dismal looking motel, but Frank kept the engine running. "This looks like something out of "Psycho". Want to try and see if we can find something better?" I said sure and we started driving some more. After about an hour, we ended up in a small town called Willits. It was dark by now and the rain was pouring down. We decided that one night inside anywhere would be better than being wet and cold. We passed three motels with "No Vacancy" signs and finally found one with a broken light flashing "V_ca_cy". Frank pulled in and we went into the office. An Indian man wearing a turban greeted us, but then said that their light was broken. They were full except for one room with one bed, but that there was no heat and the cable for the television wasn't working. Frank looked at me and smiled. "Can you stand it for one night, Jason? We can pull the sleeping bags out of the jeep and just rough it." I shrugged back. "I can handle anything for a night," I said. We registered and got the key. Running out to the Jeep, we quickly pulled the sleeping bags out and sprinted to the room. But it didn't matter; by the time we got inside, we were both soaked. We turned on the lights and unfolded the sleeping bags on the one bed. The wall heater wasn't working like the manager said, but there was a small space heater built into the bathroom. When we turned on the light, its small orange coils came to life. "I don't feel much like going out into that rain again for dinner," said Frank, unbuttoning his denim shirt and flipping through a restaurant guide by the phone. "You okay with Chinese or pizza?" I chose Chinese and Frank called and placed the order. "You might want to hang your jeans and shirt in the bathroom, Jason. That heater isn't much, but it may get them dry by morning." I went into the bathroom and peeled off my jeans and my socks and shoes and pulled off my T-shirt. The rain had soaked them through and I realized that the thin white boxers that I was wearing were almost transparent. I heard the door outside open and close and then open again. Frank knocked on the door and said, "How's it going in there?" "Okay, I'll be out in a minute." "Open the door. I got some dry stuff from the Jeep." I looked down and realized that my shorts were pasted to my body. I could even see the ridge at the head of my dick. While I was trying to decide what to do, Frank opened the door. I'd forgotten to turn the lock. "You okay?" he asked. "Yeah," I said, "I just got soaked completely through." He'd taken off his shirt, but his T-shirt was soaked from his trip to the Jeep and I could see the dark patches of hair on his chest and his large nipples were erect from the cold. He stood in the door holding a dry T-shirt looking at me. "Here, take this," he said, handing me the T-shirt. "Why don't you take those off and wrap a towel around your middle. Those shorts won't take any time to dry." I stood still for a minute waiting for him to close the door again, but he didn't. "Come on, Jason," he said with a smile, "you've got to have something on when the food gets here." I hooked my fingers under the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down. The small heater felt good after the clammy clothes, but I could feel myself starting to get hard. I quickly pulled a small thin towel from the rack and wrapped it around my middle. Frank gave me the T-shirt, but as I was pulling it over my head, the towel dropped. Frank picked it up and handed it to me again. "Nothing like these 4-star motels is there, buddy?" he said, closing the door. The food came a few minutes later and we ate it sitting on opposite sides of the bed, our legs covered by the sleeping bags, watching the local TV stations on a jerky snowy screen. Frank had on a dry T-shirt and was still wearing his jeans. It was almost nine when we tossed the cartons. Frank finally picked up the remote and clicked it off. "You about ready to turn in, Jason? I'm beat." "Me, too," I said, as he got up and went into the bathroom. He came out again, holding my shorts. "Thought these would dry pretty fast," he said, tossing them over to me. "Want to give me that towel and we'll see if it'll dry by morning?" he said, tossing me my boxers. I lifted my butt off the bed and pulled out the towel from under the covers and tossed him the towel. He hung it in the bathroom and started to take off his jeans. I turned off the light on my side of the bed and watched him. He stood near the heater in his T-shirt and shorts for a minute before he pulled off the shorts and hung them on the towel rack. I was surprised to see how small his cock and balls had gotten with the cold. He turned off the light in the bathroom and came back to the bed wearing only his T-shirt. "Looks like one of us is sleeping commando tonight," he said, turning off the light on his side of the bed and getting under the sleeping bag. That was when we discovered just how bad the mattress was: the minute Frank lay down, we both start to roll to the middle. We ended up face to face in the middle of the bed and Frank started laughing. "You know, Jason, this isn't exactly the kind of reunion I had in mind?" he said. I could feel his warm breath on my face in the dark and the hair on his legs touching mine. For some reason, I started to laugh, too. "Maybe next time we should just go to a movie?" I said. He laughed again and rolled over on his side, so his butt was touching my crotch. I quickly rolled over, too. I sort of slept, but it got colder and between trying to get comfortable in that bed and trying to stay warm, I tossed and turned. I could feel the heat of Frank's body touching mine, but kept trying to pull away from it. I was afraid that if I got too close, I might get a boner or, worse, just cum the way I did every once in awhile in my own bed at night. After about an hour, Frank rolled over and propping his head on one hand and put his arm over me. "This is going to be a long night, you know? If we don't get some sleep we're going to be too cold and tired to do anything tomorrow." He pulled me closer to him and we both shivered with the cold, curling up together like a couple of spoons in a drawer. "Hope you don't snore," he said, and I could feel his warm breath in my ear. We lay like that for a long time Ð how long I don't know Ð but when I looked out through the window curtains, it was pitch black. I pressed myself closer to him and could feel his cock through my shorts against my butt. His arm was still over me and held me tighter. His hand had found a place on my chest just over my left nipple. He was breathing softly and regularly and with each breath I could feel his belly move against my back. I closed my eyes and pretended I was sleeping while my hand slipped behind me. It grazed the head of his cock and I heard him murmur something in his sleep. I could feel his cock getting bigger, pressing against the thin fabric of my shorts. His hand began rubbing my chest and then went a little lower to my belly and seemed to stay there. I could feel his cock was really hard now and the tips of my fingers rolled the clear sticky fluid around its head and even slipped his foreskin down. His hand moved lower and went under my T-shirt and up to my chest. He began to gently roll my nipples between his fingers. First one, then the other. When he began rolling my right nipple I gasped and realized that I was hard, too, and that the head of my dick was edging past the waistband of my shorts. I put my whole hand around his cock and started to work it slowly, not with the quick jerking motions I used on myself. I heard him take a quick breath as I moved my hand up and down. His hand went lower and found the waistband of my boxers and tugged them down under the covers. He put his hand over my balls and squeezed them. I started to move my hand a little faster afraid that he'd wake up, but unable to pull away. I felt stronger and weaker than I'd ever felt before. His hand let go of my balls and began rubbing my belly. "Looks like we have ourselves a situation here, Jason," he said, quietly. "You okay with this?" I nodded but didn't say a word. "Okay, buddy, then let's get these off, "he said, pulling my shorts down further. I quickly let go of his cock and pulled the shorts down under the covers. He rolled over on his back and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Rolling back, he held me close and his hand moved up and down my body, squeezing my nuts again and then taking my cock in his warm hand and stroking it gently. Then his hand moved between my legs and I stiffened. "It's okay, buddy. We're going slow here tonight." Frank put his forefinger in his mouth and brought it down between my legs again, gently forcing them apart. I could feel him fingering my anus with his finger in a slow, circular motion. Soon, I felt my legs spreading wider apart and his finger going a little wider and a little deeper with each circle while his other hand began rolling my right nipple a little more forcefully than before. I started making a bucking, jerking movement. I wanted to start stroking my own cock, but I didn't want to interrupt what he was doing. Finally, my back still to him, I felt him spread my cheeks. He spat in his hand and pulled away from me for a moment. Next thing I felt was the pressure of his cock slipping up and down my butt, a regular up and down motion, but never trying to enter me. He held me closer and tighter. I could feel the motion of his cock Ð it was slowly getting faster and more insistent. His hand reached around and he took my cock in it, squeezing it tightly once and then stroking it in rhythm with his own motion. "Slow down," I told him. "I can'tÉhold it too long. I'm going to..." "S'okay, Jason," he said, "come on: give it up. You know you want to give it up." I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time as my hips began grinding backwards and forwards, trying to match his motion. Suddenly, my cock started spurting and his hand covered it, rubbing his thumb over its head and making me jump again. "That's good," he said, never missing his own rhythm, "that's real good." He squeezed my cock again and a few more drops came out. "Come on, fella. Give it all to me." I pulled away from him and felt his cock slip up my back. He slowed down a little and asked if I was alright. I nodded slowly and closed my eyes again. "I want you in me, "I said suddenly. He pulled me closer to him. I could feel that he was still hard. I almost imagined the extra fold of his foreskin rubbing back. "You ever done that before?" he asked gently. I shook my head. I hadn't ever thought of doing it before, but I knew I wanted it. "Okay," he said. "Roll over on your belly." I did as I was told. I expected him to start ramming me right away and closed my eyes tight and held my breath. Instead, I felt his hand rubbing the small of my back. "Easy, easy," he said. I felt him move and straddle me, but he just kept rubbing my back. I felt his hands spread my cheeks and braced myself again. But then I felt him move lower down on the bed. I pressed my face against the rough linen of the pillowcase. He split my cheeks apart even further and then I felt the warmth of his tongue moving in my butt, making the same slow motions that he'd made earlier with his finger. The stubble of his beard made my butt twitch open and shut. His tongue moved around and then up and down. Soon, I was arching up. "Okay, now try to relax. Take a deep breath and push out," he said. I did what he told me to do and felt him brace himself. Then I felt the head of his cock entering me and gasped out loud. "Easy, real easy, Jason." I got used to the feel of the head of his cock and he slowly started giving me more. He did it with a gentle, insistent assurance and soon I was backing into it. When that happened, Frank began thrusting slowly. I could feel his balls against my butt as he went in and out, his hand against shoulder, holding on. I felt full and almost stoned; it was as if I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. His thrusts became more insistent and at one point he slapped my ass hard. I started to pull away, but he held me in place. His hand on my shoulder was like a vise. He slapped my ass again and said, "damn!" under his breath and I could feel his warm cum filling my ass. We fell asleep in that position. When I woke up the next morning, the sun was shining through the window. At first, I wanted to think that it had been a dream, but I felt sore getting out of bed and finding my shorts again. I put them on quickly and wondered what we were going to say to each other. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom. I got out of bed and knocked on the door. "C'mon in", he said. I opened the door. "Gotta take a leak," I said. "Okay," he said, sticking his head out of the shower, but leaving the shower door open just a crack. I lifted up the seat of the toilet and began to piss. When I was done and was shaking it, Frank said, "No heat in this place, but plenty of hot water. Want to come in?" He opened the door a little wider. "Might want to drop your shorts first," he said with a smile. I did and squeezed into the single stall shower with him. The steam was coming up and I closed my eyes against the water. I felt him put his arms around me and begin soaping my chest. "You know," he said, moving his hands down my chest and soaping up my cock, "that probably shouldn't have happened last night. I'm not exactly your standard dad, I know that. But I am your father anyway. And I think we both enjoyed it, didn't we?" I nodded, but didn't say anything. His hands were still soaping my cock and now my ass. I was hard again and tried to turn around to face him, but he held me to him, his dick pressing against my ass again, the wet hair on his chest pasted to my back. "But I don't think it should happen again, Jason. I never thought that I'd be that close to you and I'm honored if I'm your firstÉ" "You were!" "Ébut things need to level out. You're going to want to meet a guy Ð or a girl Ð your own age. And it'll be good, too. You got the general idea down and you seem to enjoy it more than most. But if I hung around and we kept messing with each other, then I'd be holding you back. And I didn't come back to hold you back. I came back to help you move forward. So, I think that it would be best for both of us if we went back to the city today and I just moved on for a time. Okay?" I didn't know if he could see that I was starting to cry under the shower, but Frank turned me around and held me close under the streaming water while I buried my face in the wet hair of his chest. I don't know if it was right or wrong. I didn't see Frank again. Last card I got from him was on my 21st birthday. Inside was a hundred-dollar bill and a short note, "Gone fishin'. Love, Frank."