The Rogue and the Runaway

Copyright© 2014 – Nicholas Hall


Chapter Seven




"Summer time

and the livin' is easy

Fish are jumpin'

and the cotton is high..."

(Du Bose Heyward – [Porgy and Bess])


That particular night and the next morning was the beginning of a summer far beyond all I'd ever experienced and was the fulfilment of my dreams, my desires, and my quest for not only a person to love and be loved by, but a home where we both could flourish in our love and life. My only anxiety consisted of fear my parents would discover my where-bouts and try to hustle me away. But every moment I spent with Seth dispelled those fears and sequestered them farther and farther away in my subconscious from any reality I could accept.

Going to bed each night and waking each morning, my smaller frame nestled into the curves of Seth's legs, stomach, and upper body formed as he clasped me close after a tender, yet voluptuously satisfying orgasm was the way I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I must admit, after the first night he made love to me, I did spend some time soaking my tender rear end in a hot tub of water. Impaling me with that prodigious prod of his left me just a mite tender, but not enough to refuse him when he came home from a day on the river.

Seth would bound up the steps of the house, sweep me up in his arms, twirl me around a couple of times, kiss me passionately, and with a twinkle in his eyes ask, "Know what?"

"What?" I reply.

"I love you," he'd giggle and carry me to our bedroom, the living room rug, the couch, or the sofa on the porch, depending how anxious he was and how much my rear portal itched for his presence, and carefully unwrap my goodies for his and my pleasure. Once I was naked, he'd smile at me and murmur, "Davie, you're the most beautiful creature on earth," and strip, revealing to me the evidence of his ardor, ready, twitching, and available for me to fondle, taste, and revel in its smooth, velvety hardness.

Easing me onto my back, kneeling between my legs and raising them up to position them so I could wrap them about his hips, and positioning his stiff cock at the entrance of my love chute, he would press the fat head against the muscled ring, now accustomed to his presence, and with another smile and slight groan of heat and passion, slowly begin that long, filling journey into me. Seth was never in a hurry, seeking as much pleasure for me as for himself, and his strokes, long or short, stimulated me in the most delightful way. His lips would lock on mine as we both began to near our climax and once we both fired our loads, mine between us and his more than ample offering deep inside me, he'd stay embedded for a little longer, slowly fucking the last of his sperm out of his delivery organ and into me. I never tired of it!

Alice Burridge, Seth's mom, first made her appearance at our house (please note, I said "our house") about two weeks after I first arrived with a knock on the door and "you hoo!" Seth was out on the river, raising nets and wouldn't be back until late in the day. I'd met Alice only casually, previously when I wandered out to the mail box the second day I was here, but she'd not been to the house. She was going grocery shopping and invited me to accompany her or pick up any items I might need if I chose not to go.

I chose to stay home and gave her a list. She never pried or questioned my decision, but smiled, much like her son, and off she went! That afternoon, when she returned, I helped her unload our groceries and when I offered to pay, she just told me to have Seth write a check from his account rather than pay cash to her.

Curious, I mentioned that it seemed a rather silly thing to do since I had cash available.

"I know," she answered with a laugh, "but Seth is such a fuddy-duddy about record keeping. This way he can track his household expenses and keep them separate from his business."

As she left, she patted me on the cheek, commenting, "I can see why he loves you so. I'm so pleased you're here; he's a much happier boy now!"

Alice and I became good friends, along with Seth's father and the rest of the family. They all seemed to accept Seth and me as a couple. I couldn't believe it; so different from the family I came from. Seth's family was rapidly becoming my family as well and I felt very comfortable and secure with it and in it.

One day, after Seth came home from checking his nets, he asked if I wanted to ride along the next day. Of course I did; if I could spend a day with him, what more could I ask? He must have anticipated my positive response because the next morning, after I'd fixed our lunch he came to the kitchen with a brand new pair of hip waders for me.

"I hope these fit," he said apologetically, "I checked your shoe size but the length – I don't know about that, so try them on."

When I did the tops of the waders, instead of stopping mid-thigh as they would on most people, snugged up to my crotch, bracketing my balls and cock. Of course Seth just had to cup my junk in his hand and ask, "Are the boots comfortable or too tight? They don't rub anything special do they?" and kissed me, bringing an instant erection to me.

"We won't get gone, if you keep that up," I groaned lustily.

He sighed, pulled his hand free, slipped a new (size small) PFD from a bag and put it on me. "Have to wear this," he advised and we tromped off to the boat. Walking in hip waders was a new experience for me and I thought I sort of walked like I had a cob up my butt or Seth's thick cock.

Even in summer, the early morning air was cool as we motored out of our slough, into the Wapsi and down to its mouth where it emptied into the big river. Seth invited me to sit on the seat between his legs when he noticed me shiver. While he captained the big fishing boat, he had one hand on the wheel and the other around me. Shifting my butt into his crotch, it was evident he was enjoying my company since his dick was as hard as oak and pressing into my back. I twisted my head and kissed him, letting him know I was enjoying myself and him.

"Thanks," I said above the engine noise.

He knew why I was thanking him, but added, "Never know when you'll need to know how to navigate these waters and to avoid the hazards such as logs, sand bars, and wing dams during low water times." With that he began my instruction on how to operate the boat and what to watch for while traveling on the river.

We were running trot lines; long lines of about one hundred hooks, each hanging on a short piece of line spaced about four feet apart on the main line. The long lines are anchored at each end, baited with pieces of fish, chicken liver, or anything else that would attract catfish, lowered into the river and raised every twenty-four hours according to law.

After a few test drives, Seth let me run the boat while he sat in the front, tending and baiting the lines. When a legal sized catfish was caught, it was tossed back into one of the big plastic tubs for sale at the market. Smaller fish and game fish were tossed back into the river. At the end of the day, our catch was really good and sold well at the market. Seth was quite pleased, however I was convinced it was a hard way to make a living, but he was pleased and that's all that mattered.

As we motored back home, Seth mentioned, almost casually as we docked, "Technically, Davie, you're supposed to have a license to help me, so one of these days we'll have to do that."

I just nodded, but knowing full well when that day came, I'd leave tracks in the form of a record and my mother and father would find me. The longer I could postpone that circumstance, the better off I'd be.

Our long day on the river certainly didn't damper Seth's ardor for me, once we home, showered before supper. As I stepped out of the shower, he was standing waiting for me.

"God, he said, "I get so hard just at the sight of you!"

One look at him was all it would take to see he was not kidding; that beautiful, engorged maypole of his stuck straight out in front of him, twitching up and down with every beat of his heart, just begging me to decorate it with my love tunnel and let him enjoy the scenery. I just grinned and bent over, spreading my ass cheeks with my hands, inviting him to take a ride.

Our summer was spent fishing, making hay, helping with farm work, keeping house, and making love. The more time I spent with him, the less and less I ever wanted to leave, although I was in constant fear I'd have to.

We became more than lovers; we became best friends, partners, and soul mates. He showed me how to do his monthly reports, freeing him up for other activities (other than nibbling on my neck or wrapping his lips around my manhood). He and I shared the housework, although he preferred my cooking to his and I didn't mind. I helped him repair his nets, lines, and box traps once he showed me how. It gave me more time with him. I did accompany him on several more trips and fortunately, we didn't encounter any game wardens or we'd have been in deep shit!

I watched him and the other partners in the long net they used for seining rough fish from the river, make several "hauls" during the summer. The net would be anchored to the shore and strewn out into the river by boat, pulled in a half-moon shape as the boat returned to shore. There, the men would begin pulling that end of the net toward shore. By pulling on the lower end just a little more, they would form a purse-like bulge in the middle where the fish would be trapped. There was a definite art to pulling a seine-haul, since if done wrong, the fish would escape. Rough fish, such as carp, buffalo, and sheepshead, were sorted out and carted to waiting trucks, while game fish were returned to the river and other less desirable fish such as bowfin or God forbid, big head carp, were carried to another truck for disposal at whatever price they could get for them.

It was quite a sight and I enjoyed it each time. My job, unofficially since I didn't have a license, was "gopher;" you know, go for this or go for that. I did try to help pulling the net, but my size didn't give me the strength the other men had, but they didn't complain.

Some Sundays we'd go up to Seth's folks for dinner; often his brothers and sister and their families would drop by just to say "hello." The one time the family planned a big get-together was the Fourth of July.

It was the first July Fourth I can remember not having to sit on a float, walk behind my father as he shook hands with potential voters, or listen to him and a dozen other politicians give "patriotic speeches;" trying to convince people to vote for them or donate dollars to their war chests. The "Citizens United" decision by the Supreme Court really opened up the big money for the campaigns and my father took advantage of it. Corporations and individuals could hide the money they were using to buy elections and it is all legal.

Fourth of July I woke wrapped in Seth's arms and after he launched several blasts of his mighty rocket into that place he knew so well, we cleaned up and dressed for the day. We drove his pickup to his folks place so we could help them prepare for the family picnic. Everyone would be there; counting Seth and me, twenty-two people for lunch. We set up tables and chairs on the lawn under the shade trees (no rain forecast), filled a couple of big ice chests with ice, soda, and beer, and put a half dozen big green and black striped watermelons we purchased in Muscatine, in a stock watering tank filled with cold water.

Seth's mom and dad provided the hamburgers and hot dogs to be grilled and the potato salad. His brothers and sister brought, including children, an assortment of pies, cakes, and salads. I ate so much that day, I thought I'd burst. The day was capped off with a trip, by Seth and me, to the Levee in Davenport where we watch the fireworks popping, banging, flashing, and swirling in the air over the Mississippi River. It was a great day!

Summer seemed to slip by so quickly, so easily, it wasn't until the end of August, when messing around in the garage hunting for something, I realized I hadn't driven my truck since I arrived and it still had out of state license plates on it. I hadn't used my cell phone or my lap top either, fearful my parents would be able to track my location from the signal or footprint they would leave. I was fully aware law enforcement and others had the capabilities to locate me through the use of my cell phone so I didn't use it. Little did I know it still sent a signal even though not turned on!

Not finding what I was looking for, I walked back to the house, plopped my ass down on the couch on the porch, and thought long and hard about what I had to do. Not once since I arrived at `Pinicon Ridge, did Seth ask who I really was, other than my name, who I was hiding from, or why I was reluctant to talk of my past. It didn't matter to him, but it mattered to me that he didn't know. I was determined, once he came home that evening, to tell him the truth. It's time my lover knew all about me!

However, "the best laid plans of mice and men" were at play here and made the evening even more interesting.

To be continued:


Thank you for reading Chapter Seven- The Rogue and the Runaway- "Summertime"- "Summer time and the livin' is easy Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high..." (Du Bose Heyward – [Porgy and Bess])

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Nick Hall


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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