No Fishing
by Ashley Hardric ©2005

    This is a work of fiction.  That means it is not true.  Didn’t happen.  It’s a figment. No boys were involved or harmed in the writing of this story and no trees were sacrificed.  The author does not condone sex with boys; he just writes fantasies about it.  Further, sex in reality requires caution and protection, but my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in.  Be safe and legal in the real world, and enjoy the story only if you are of age and location to legally do so.

    **This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced elsewhere (i.e. other than Nifty Archive)  without his permission.**


Jason sat in the “driver’s seat” of the rowboat, trying his best to maintain a straight course across the secluded end of Marshwood Lake but failing miserably.  Our little craft wove and wandered anywhere but in the direction of the cove we wanted to fish.  I decided it was time to give him a little guidance, as I often did whenever I was home from college.  Growing up next door, I’d always been his “big brother,” and ever since he’d lost his father some years ago, we had been especially close.

Sitting in the aft seat facing him, I put my hands on top of his and began to guide each of his oar strokes.  Our course straightened out, and with each stroke, my fingers lightly brushed his 14 year old crotch.  He seemed a bit self conscious, but was far too accustomed to following my lead to object.  After a few minutes of steadier rowing, we entered the lovely little cove we had set out for.  I held the oars out of the water for a moment, my hands at his crotch, and I let my fingers press against his firm package for a few moments as I helped him ship the oars on the sides of the boat.

The early afternoon sun was strong on this perfect June day, and we were both quite warm.  Giving him no opportunity to move or change position, I pulled his muscle shirt down his slender shoulders and arms to his waist.  Then I opened the snap and the zipper of his jeans, and pulled them down over his hips.  “Raise up for a sec,” I told him, and he did, allowing me to pull shirt and jeans down to his thighs and then his ankles.

Only the speedo that I had given him to wear remained.  It was one of my old ones, and I had told him to wear it instead of underwear “so that we could swim” if we wanted to.  It was quite well worn out, nearly sheer, at least a size too small for him, and I had cut it down considerably.  Actually, it was closer to being a thong, like a European model that had narrow front and back panels connected by ribbons of elastic across the hips.  And, I had cut the fabric back so that the front panel was  only about an inch and a half wide, and the back panel and wasteband were just string.  So, OK.  It WAS a thong.  Anyway, as I had intended, his equipment required considerably more surface area than there was fabric, and there was not enough of the thin nylon available to contain him.  Every contour of his nicely developing package was visible, his balls bulging out past the fabric pouch, the penis obviously hardening, but held downward by the tight thong.  It was so skimpy, and his cock was pushing against it so much, that the waistband was pulled down from his belly, fully revealing the straight hairs of his newly-sprouting bush at the base of his cock.

“We better get some sun screen on you, or else you’ll burn to a crisp in 10 minutes,” I told him, shifting to the seat next to him and picking up the bottle of sun goo.  “Hold still; I’ll put it on.” I began rubbing some on his adolescent shoulders.  I was massaging gently as I went, and a small groan of pleasure slipped out of his mouth.  I worked my way across his pale shoulders and down his back, and then returned to the top and started on his chest, gently rubbing down his firm, slender pecs, and giving special attention to the nipples, which also erected in response to my ministrations.  I continued down his stomach and abdomen to the top of his bush.  His nipples were not the only items erect; by now his penis was virtually straight but still held down by the thin fabric.  I let it stay that way, and shifted my attention to his legs.

Kneeling down, I started applying sunscreen to his toes, and worked my way up the smooth legs to the knees.  His slender legs were still baby-smooth, with only the slightest blonde down covering them.  I began my approach up his thighs, moving in ever widening circles over the top of his legs, down to the inside and back to the top.  He was breathing heavily and sweating now, beads of moisture standing out on his face, and sweat trickling down his sides.  He clearly needed to release his penis, but he was too embarrassed to do it.  I sat back on the seat again, straddling it with Jason between my legs.   I returned one hand to his lower back, rubbing his buns as far down as I could.  In front, I reached the junction of scrotum and thigh, rubbing lotion between his legs, stroking against his balls and trapped penis with the back of my hand as I did so.  I applied more sunscreen to his abdomen, working my way bit by bit down to his soft bush of new blonde hair.  I worked the lotion into the hair and around the base of his penis, and then placed a gentle hand on his bulging organ.  “Let’s put some screen on this part too,” I said.  “The sun will burn right thru that thin nylon.”  And with that, I pulled the waistband of his thong down over his raging hard-on, which immediately sprang up straight and slapped against his smooth belly.  He was still a growing boy, and five firm, slender inches stood straight up at a slight angle from his belly.

I gave it a light squeeze and a couple of strokes, and then massaged his balls.  Finally I returned to the penis, so hot now I could feel its heat as soon as I touched it.  Running my fingers along its length, I gave it another squeeze, and then started firmly massaging the head, well lubed with lotion.  Jason was panting now, squirming under my hands, and beginning involuntary pelvic thrusts against my hand.  After very few more strokes, he erupted into my hand, shooting strong streams of teenage cum onto his middle.

He sort of collapsed then, leaning against me.  I pulled his head against my shoulder and hugged him.  
    “What happened to me?” he asked.  
    “You just had an orgasm,” I answered.  “Was that your first time?”  
    He just nodded.  
    “Did you like it?” I asked.  
    He nodded again, and smiled.  
    “Would you like to do it again?”  
    He nodded again, and closed his eyes in post-orgasmic relaxation.  Given his youth, I figured he’d need about five minutes to rest before getting it up again.
I was wrong.  He only needed three.

I continued to hold him, gently rubbing the cum over his tummy and up to his chest.  The cum wasn’t even dry when he was erect again.  He opened his eyes and started stroking his stiffening cock.  This time, however, I had different plans.

“This is a real day of firsts for you,” I said.  “First time in a rowboat, first orgasm, first jerkoff with anyone else...”
    “First jerk off, period,” he said.  “I was always afraid to touch it when it got hard.  My mom used to tell me it would break off if I touched it when it was hard, so I never did.”
    “I’ll bet she taught you that it was dirty and gross, too, didn’t she,” I said.  He nodded.  “Well, Mom’s wrong again.  Let’s do your next ‘first’ now.  I’ll show you how.”  I moved back from him enough to lean down to his crotch.  I took his stiff dick in my mouth briefly and gave it a good lick.  He gasped.  “This is how you do a blow job,” I told him.  “Lick and suck, and keep your teeth out of the way.”  I returned to his little head, and he groaned with pleasure.  “Get the idea?  Good.  Now it’s your turn.”  I pulled his head into my lap, and he slipped from the seat to the floor of the boat.  He unzipped my shorts and took out my stiff cock; I had worn no underwear for just this reason.
    He hesitantly took hold of my cock, looking at it closely.  “I’ve never seen a man’s penis stiff like this,” he said.  “I always figured something was wrong with mine when it got hard.”
    “Thanks to Mom again,” I told him.  “Now forget her, and suck.”  I emphasized the instruction by firmly guiding his head onto my cock.  Being the obedient boy he was, he easily complied.
    He held my cock for a brief moment more, and then began licking it, gently touching the head, moving down to the very bottom, caressing my balls.    He licked it up and down like a melting popsicle and then licked my balls with his delicate tongue.  He sucked them into his lips and gave them a wonderful mouth massage and then returned his attention to my stiff rod, working his way from the base back up to the top.  When I thought I could stand no more, he took my swollen head into his mouth and sucked and licked and sucked and licked.  I grabbed hold of his head and held him steady as I began to fuck his face, finding a rhythm with him that was totally natural but which nearly capsized the small boat.   As my ecstacy mounted, we increased our speed until with a cry of joy I erupted into his mouth.  Probably the most intense orgasm of my life flooded into his mouth, more than he could swallow, three, four, five streams of thick creamy cum.  Some of it leaked out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin.
    I pulled him up to me and kissed him.   I wiped the cum off his chin and fed it to him.  He eagerly licked it off my fingers, and then sucked on my fingers for a few moments more.
    “What do you think Mom would say about this?” I asked him.
    “She’d refuse to admit it,” he said, “but one time I saw her and her boyfriend in the bedroom through the bathroom door, and I think she was doing the same thing.”
    “But, we don’t need to let her know that you know, do we,” I suggested.  “We wouldn’t want to burst her bubble.”
    “No, we wouldn’t want to do that.  I’ll let her go on thinking I’m afraid to touch my cock when it’s hard.  It’ll be easier that way.”
    “Or harder, maybe,” I commented, “Given the condition of your cock at the moment.”  And I reached down to grab his dick, newly erect, and ready for more adolescent action.  “Let’s see if it really does break when you hold it!”
    Just then, the alarm horn sounded from the landing.  While we had been enjoying each other, the sky had clouded over, and the wind had picked up.  A Summer storm was building, and it was time to return to shore.  So we began rowing back, this time together, Jason on one side, me on the other, our hands in each others’ laps, using strong coordinated strokes that brought us back to the boat landing in short order.
    “You boys find any action?” the boat rental guy asked, as we returned our stuff.
    “Well, yeah, I guess,” Jason answered for both of us.  “But we didn’t catch any fish.”

The End