Copyright © 2017-2024 Nick Brady. All Rights Reserved.
CARHOPS - Chapter 6.
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Copyright 2017 by Nick Brady, all rights reserved.
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On Monday we were back on the job – Henry on his folding chair, me on the little bench. We sat grinning at each other.
“I caught up with you,” Henry said.
“What do you mean?”
“Today's my birthday. We're both fourteen.”
“That's right. Happy birthday,” I said. “I didn't get you a present and I can't sing. Sorry.”
“That's OK. I had my birthday present yesterday,” Henry grinned.
“I thought we had a great birthday dinner,” I said.
“It was,” Henry agreed. “You know, I was impressed with your mother. I think she's a good person, and I even think she enjoyed herself. My parents had some nice things to say after you guys left.”
I nodded in agreement, “We talked a little when we got home. She said she thought your family was as nice a bunch of people as she'd ever met.”
“I can't help but think that this is a big deal,” Henry said. “Like my father told me, sometimes really important things start out small. If your mother changed the way she thinks, so will others. At least I hope so.”
“Anyway, Mom is OK with us being friends now. But I don't think I want her to know that we, you know, mess around.”
Henry laughed. “No. I don't think so. My father would have a stroke if he knew that. They just aren't ready for that. I'm afraid we'll still have to keep some things a secret.”
We left it at that and served our respective customers. Later, we started making plans for another fishing trip.
“What do you think about running that trot line overnight?” Henry asked.
“And camp overnight? That would be neat. How would that work?”
“We don't need a lot of stuff to camp in the summer. The only real problem we'll have is lugging a lot of fish back on our bicycles.”
“That would be a nice problem to have,” I said.
Henry had a plan. “How about if we go out on Sunday afternoon like usual. I can bring everything we need to fish and sleep out there, if you can bring something for us to eat.”
“You want to cook out there?”
“No. That's too much trouble,” Henry said, “If we had a car or something, we could take a bunch of stuff, but we have to keep it simple to bike out and back. Just bring stuff for sandwiches, some fruit and some water.”
“That's easy enough. The trick will be to get Mom to let me go.”
“All you can do is ask, but I bet she'll let you.”
The next morning I got up before my mother and cooked some breakfast for us. The smell of bacon roused her out of bed and she came into the kitchen tying her housecoat around herself.
“What are you doing in here? Is it Mother's Day?” Mom asked.
“No. I just thought I would fix us some breakfast. Are you hungry?”
Mom smiled and sat down at the table. “I don't suppose you made any coffee.”
“I did. You like it black, right?” I placed a cup in front of her.
We ate our breakfast without much conversation. When we finished, I took the dishes to the sink and began to wash up. Mom came to help me dry after put things away. We both thought back to our dinner with Henry's family when Mom and Eunice did the dishes.
“You and Mrs. Brown did this last Sunday,” I mentioned.
Mom stacked the breakfast things in the cabinet without replying, then glanced at me. “Eunice is a lovely person. She and her husband have raised a very nice family, she provides the music for her husband's church, and she is obviously a very intelligent woman. I have to admire her.”
“She's a good cook too,” I added. “She sure knows how to fry catfish.”
I poured Mom another cup of coffee and we sat at the table and talked for a bit. “How do you feel about me and Henry being friends now that you have met him and his family?” I asked quietly.
Mom leaned back and sipped her coffee. “Honey, I don't have anything against colored people. I really don't. I guess it's just that I grew up here and don't want any trouble. My problem with you being friendly with Henry was because I was worried about you, not that I didn't like Henry. ”
“Do you feel any different about that now? Now that you know them better?”
“I still worry about you being friends with Henry just because I know that there are some people who might be ugly about it. Most of the people here aren't hateful, but unfortunately, there are a few who are,” she sighed. “Jimmy, I have to admit that I did make some assumptions about him and his family. Some of the coloreds are pretty trashy. But then, so are some of the whites in this town. Henry's family is about as nice as they come.”
After Mom was about ready to go to work, I summoned my courage and asked the big question.
“Me and Henry were talking,” I began. “We caught those nice catfish on a trot line down on the river.”
“I know what a trot line is,” Mom nodded.
“Well, Henry said that the best way to do that is to leave it out all night and check on it a couple of times. He said that he and his brothers sometimes sort of camp for the night so they can run the line.”
Mom nodded again, guessing where this was going.
“Do you suppose maybe it would be OK if we did that? I mean if me and Henry camped for the night to keep track of the trot line?” I asked hopefully.
“Where are you going to be? Is it a safe place?”
“It's on the river down south towards Turner,” I explained. “We've fished there twice and have never seen anybody else around there.”
“What if you do have problems? Don't you need tents and things? We don't have any camping equipment,” she wasn't saying no, but had a lot of questions.”
“Henry has everything we need, and we can carry it on our bikes. It's not really that far and we'll be extra careful, honest.” I made my best case.
Mom gave me a skeptical look. “I don't know about that, Jimmy. I'll have to think about it.”
I knew enough to shut up and let her do her thinking. I was encouraged by the fact that she didn't say no, and her thinking about something often ended up as a yes.
I gave her a hug and she left for work. Just to increase the odds of her good favor, I straightened up the apartment and even made my bed.
When I saw Henry I gave him the news. “I asked Mom about going camping and she said she'll think about it.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“I think it means she'll say yes,” I grinned.
Henry laughed. “In that case I'll get us ready. It won't take much.”
“Will it be OK with your folks?”
“I think so,” he nodded. “I've done that before with my brothers. She won't let me go by myself, but I think they figure you're trustworthy.”
We were optimistic, Then we had a little incident.
An all too familiar pickup truck drove in. They stopped next to us in back of Sparky's and looked at Henry, then laughed and said something to each other. The sight of them made me furious.
I stepped up to the truck and asked, “What do you want?”
“You still hanging out with that nigger?” the driver sneered.
“What's your name?” I asked him coldly.
“What do you care?” he replied.
“I want to know who you are if you ever try to bother my friend again.”
“Say what?” he looked surprised.
“You heard me. Now get lost. We don't serve your kind here.” I went back and sat down on the bench, wondering what he was going to do.
“You little shit! We don't do business with no nigger lovers. Next time, we'll get both of you little fuckers!” they roared away in a spray of gravel.
Henry looked shocked. “Jimmy! That was a dangerous thing to do,” he warned me.
I was so angry I was shaking, and not a little scared now that the exchange was over. “I don't care. They can't get away with that kind of thing. It's just not right.”
Henry gave me a strange look. “Thanks, Jimmy. I hope you don't get in trouble with those guys for sticking up for me. I'm not sure that was smart, but I sure do appreciate it.”
“You're my friend, Henry. My best friend. How can I look the other way when somebody tries to hurt you?” I asked indignantly. “What kind of a friend would that make me?”
Henry smiled. “You're my friend, that's for sure. You've got courage too. Not many people would have stood up to those guys. They might have jumped out of their truck and beat the crap out of you.”
“I don't think so,” I shook my head. “I reckon they're basically cowards. Besides, if I yelled for Floyd he would have run them off. I know he keeps a pistol under the bar. He's not the nicest guy in the world, but I don't think he would put up with a couple of rednecks beating up on his help.”
Henry didn't say anything more, but looked very grateful.
The next morning I talked to Mom. I hadn't told her about Henry's 'accident' because I wasn't sure how she would react. But now I felt like I should.
I took a deep breath. “I need to tell you about something.”
“What's that, Honey?”
“Well, there are these two guys who drove through Sparky's in a pickup truck. They called Henry a nigger, and a week or so later when we were riding back from the creek, they buzzed him and ran him off the road. He got pretty scraped up.”
“That's just awful,” she frowned. “They could have killed that boy.”
“He heard them coming from behind and took to the ditch. If he hadn't, they would probably have hit him.”
“Who are these people?” she asked. “They shouldn't be able to get away with something like that.”
“They drove through again last night,” I told her. “They called him a nigger again, and I told them to leave. They cussed us out and threatened us both.”
Mother looked alarmed. “People like that are dangerous. Maybe you should have stayed out of it.”
“Henry's my friend. I can't just stand by and watch him get bullied, or worse.”
Mom thought for a minute. “I think you should tell Uncle Clay about this. He's the sheriff and he hates this kind of thing.”
“What makes you think he would do anything?”
“Because Clay Meadows is a good man,” she explained. “Besides, he's my uncle, and I think he'd believe you. Do you know who these men are?”
“No, but I got their license plate number. That's just as good.” My face was turning red and I was still very angry.
“Well, I'm going to call him, but you need to talk to him. You know what happened.”
Mom Picked up the phone, “Hello Clay. This is Helen McKenna. My son Jimmy has a problem he needs to talk to you about. Do you have the time to talk to him right now?”
“Of course, Helen. I always have time for Jimmy,” he said.
Mom handed me the phone, “Uncle Clay? This is Jimmy McKenna. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, Jimmy. How's your mother?” He seemed pleased to hear from me.
“She's just fine, thank you. Um, I've got sort of a problem,”
“And what might that be?”
“Well sir, I have been working at Sparky's as a carhop with a colored boy named Henry. There are a couple of guys who have been giving him a hard time.”
“I'm sorry to hear that, Jimmy. Just talking ugly, or more than that?”
“A lot more than that,” I explained. “They ran him off the road on his bicycle, and last night they came through the drive-in and threatened him again, and me too. He didn't do anything to either of them except that he's a negro. They could have killed him.”
“Who is this boy, Henry?”
“He's Henry Brown. His father is Pastor Horace Brown.”
“I know Horace,” the sheriff said. “Those are good people. Just what did they say?”
“They called me a nigger lover because I took up for him, and said that next time they'd get us both.”
“The law is supposed to be color blind, and as far as I'm concerned that's the way it should be. Do you know who these men are?”
“I don't know their names, but I have their license plate number, and I can describe them for you.”
After I gave him the information, he snorted. “I know those boys. I've had run-ins with them before. In fact, I think they just might have some outstanding warrants. Let me see what I can do. At the least, I'll keep an eye on them. I don't like this kind of thing at all.”
“Thank you very much, Uncle Clay. I really appreciate it. To tell the truth, I'm kind of scared, for both of us,” I said.
“Don't worry about those knuckleheads. I'll do what I can. We don't need that kind of thing in our town. Give my best to your mother.” We hung up.
I turned to see that Mom had been listening. “Is that all true what you told Uncle Clay?”
“Yes, ma'am. He said he knows them and they're real knuckleheads. I think he'll do something.”
“Your Uncle Clay is a good man, Jimmy. If he says he'll take care of it, he will.”
We left it at that, but I did ask if she had thought about our fishing trip.
She frowned. “If anything, knowing about those men who tried to hurt Henry makes me even more worried about you being with him. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Mom. I can't turn my back on my friend. We'll be careful. And if the sheriff is keeping an eye on them, I think we'll be fine. Can I, please?”
Mom shook her head. “I suppose so. But you be real careful, you hear?”
When I saw Henry at Sparky's, I had a lot to tell him.
“I talked to the sheriff about those guys in the pickup. He's Mom's uncle and a really good guy,” I told him.
Henry shook his head. “The sheriff's really your uncle?”
“Great uncle. He's Mom's uncle. Clay Meadows is an old man, but he stands six foot five and can look pretty scary. He's been either the sheriff, chief of police or fire chief in this town for fifty years. Everybody knows him and respects him. I talked to him on the phone and told him about them running you off the road, and that they've threatened both of us again. He said he would take care of it.”
Henry looked surprised. “Maybe you're a better friend then I realized. What else do you know?”
“Mom said I could go camping with you,” I grinned. “I guess that's the good news.”
“It's all good news to me. Thanks, Jimmy.”
We didn't see the pickup jerks again, and sort of put that behind us. On Saturday we talked about our plans for Sunday.
“I think I have enough for us to eat. It won't be very exciting though,” I said.
“When you're hungry, anything is exciting that fills your belly,” Henry reminded me. “I'm not that picky.”
“Do you have what we need to sleep out there?”
“I think so, but don't expect a feather bed. We probably won't sleep all that much anyway,” he shrugged. “I've got everything we need to catch us some big catfish.”
We met on the old road down towards Turner. I had all my food stuff in a knapsack slung over my shoulders. Henry had his bag of fishing gear tied to his bike frame, and an old duffle bag on the back. We were as ready as we were going to be. I followed him to the same place where we fished before.
“This is my favorite spot,” Henry told me. “I've had good luck here.”
“I hope we're lucky this time,” I opened my bag and inventoried the food that Mom and I had packed.
“I got a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of grape jelly. There's a bag of apples, some oranges and a box of Oreo cookies,” I told him.
“That sounds good. There's nothing that will spoil in the heat. Did you bring us some drinking water?”
“There are two quart jars with tight lids,” I said. “I hope that's enough.”
“I brought some too,” Henry said. “We might get thirsty out here. We can't drink out of the river. It's not good water like at the creek.”
Henry laid out his fishing gear. He had his big ball of cord, some extra sponges and hooks, and a fresh jar of stinky stuff. I opened it up and sniffed.
“Whoa! That smells really foul. What is that stuff?
You like that?” Henry laughed. “We make it ourselves. We save up all our chicken livers and fish scraps, mix them up with some old hot dogs, shredded cheese, oatmeal and a lot of garlic. Mix it up and leave it outside for a couple of days to get nice and ripe. It swells up a lot after it sits out for awhile. Then we scoop it into jars and put it in the freezer until we need it.”
“Does your mother let you keep that in the house?” I asked with surprise.
“Henry laughed. “No. We have an old chest freezer in that little shed behind the house. That's where we keep the extra fish and some other meat. If something goes bad, it goes in the next batch of stink bait.”
I shook my head. “Sounds delicious.”
“The catfish like it,” Henry shrugged. “You ready to start?”
“OK. I think I know the drill by now,” I stripped to my shorts and followed Henry into the water. He had tied the long end of his cord to our favorite tree and we started dropping the hooks after I poked the sponges into the stinky jar. When he dropped the bolt tied to the far end, we waded back to shore.
Henry opened the duffle bag and pulled out a tattered blanket and an old quilt. He spread the blanket out on the grass and we stretched out to cool off.
“What did you bring for us to sleep on?” I asked.
“You're on it. I got another for us to cover up with and a piece of plastic in case it rains.”
“That's it?”
“That's enough,” he shrugged. “We can roll up our clothes to use for a pillow.”
We were roughing it. I felt like a pioneer.
Henry chuckled as we lay close together. “This is like Huck Finn.”
“Yeah? I've read that book. “
“Remember the part where Huck and old black Jim are sleeping naked on the raft? Like that.”
“Yeah. I remember that. I thought that was kind of horny.”
Henry laughed. “Are you always horny?”
“Most of the time,” I admitted.
“We got plenty of time for that after it gets dark,” Henry suggested. “You want to go to the rope swing while we wait on those fish?”
“Sure,” I jumped up and slipped on my shoes. “Let's go.”
We trotted down the river to where the rope was tied to an overhanging limb from a big tree. We took turns swinging out as far as we could and dropping into the murky water.
After awhile, Henry got bored with that and started trying to do tricks. He swung out as far as he could, then twisted backwards and dove into the water with his hands outstretched.
He came up out of the water and yelled at me, “Try that! Can you do it?”
I wasn't sure if I could or not, but this was a lot like a dare. “I bet I can!” I shouted back.
When Henry brought me the rope I hesitated. “How do I do this?”
“Swing out as far as you can, and let your legs come up a little, then arch your back and you'll flip over and go in head first.” He made it sound easy.
“OK. Here I go,” I ran for the bank and swung out. When I was out as far as I could be, I tried to do as he said, but came down flat in a big belly flop. It sounded like a gun going off.
“You got half way over,” Henry laughed. “Try it again.”
Not to be outdone, I climbed back up on the bank, rubbed my pink belly and tried it again. I took a mighty swing, and managed to land on my back this time.
This time, I sat on the bank for a few minutes to catch my breath. “I don't think I've got the hang of that yet,” I gasped.
“You're getting there,” Henry tried to sound encouraging. “You have to be facing forward when you flip so you can go over backwards. If you're turned the wrong way, you'll do a belly flop.”
“Right. I think I got that part figured out,” I rolled my eyes.
“Let me do it again. Watch me, OK?” Henry took the rope and swung out over the river. When he reached the top of his swing, he was facing the opposite side. He lifted his legs, arched his back and plunged headfirst into the water. He came up, spit out a stream of water and yelled, “Did you see that? You can do it, Jimmy.”
He climbed up next to me and shook his head, showering me with water. “It's no big deal if you don't want to try it, but it's fun.”
I sighed, took the rope and tried once more. When I reached the end of the swing, I was sideways so hung onto the rope and swung back to the bank.
“Good! You got to wait until you're turned the right way. You're getting the hang of it,” he told me. “Try it again.”
I was getting tired, but thought I would give it one more try. I took a deep breath and swung out as far as I could. I concentrated on keeping myself straight, and at the end of the swing, I was facing the other side of the river. At the end of the swing, I flipped my feet up and arched my back like Henry told me. To my surprise, I came down headfirst with a great splash. It wasn't pretty, but I did it.
“Way to be!” I heard Henry yell as I came up out of the water, “you did it!”
I splashed my way back to him and heaved myself up on the bank, “I think once is enough,” I panted.
Henry hugged me and I forgot all about being tired. For me, it was a minor triumph. “Did I get it right?”
“You sure did. I'm proud of you, Jimmy,” Henry rubbed my sore belly and smiled. It was all worth it.
I laid there for several minutes until my breathing returned to normal. Then I heard my stomach make a strange sound. I realized that I was very hungry.
Henry put his face to my belly and laughed. “You're talking to me. Let's go eat something.”
We walked slowly back to our little campsite. If we had not bonded before, we had now. I pulled out the bread, peanut butter and jelly. Mom had put in a table knife to spread it with. They were the best PB&J sandwiches I ever remembered.
We ate two apiece, followed by an apple, then we split a quart of water. Humble, but filling. We stretched out on Henry's blanket and relaxed.
Henry shook me awake after awhile. “Come on. We need to check the trot line.”
I opened my eyes and realized where I was. The old pillowcase had been replaced by a large burlap bag. “You take the gunnysack and follow me,” Henry told me.
We waded out into the river with one hand on the line. It was moving. We checked the hooks as we came to them. We had 12 catfish on the twenty hooks. Several were small and Henry let them go, Those over two pounds or so went into the bag.
“We just want the big ones,” Henry explained. “We should get some really nice ones tonight.”
On the bank he strung them on the long cord he used for a stringer and tossed them out into the water to keep them alive. So far we had six really nice ones. Now we went back down with the jar of stink bait and freshened our sponges. This done, we retired to the bank to wait.
It was starting to get dark, and we were both tired after our time on the rope. We lay side by side and listened to the sounds around us. As the light dimmed, we began to hear the croak of a million frogs, and the sharp ratcheting sound of crickets. Lightening bugs began to flash around us and we could hear birds chirping and settling into their nests for the night. It was very peaceful.
We were only wearing our shorts, and could feel the warm air moving over us. I turned to Henry and put my head on his shoulder. He responded by putting his arm around me. It was very nice to be held in this way. I ran my hand over his flat stomach, feeling the strong muscles, then up over his chest to feel the firm nipples that sprouted on each side. We almost fell asleep again.
Henry raised up and drew the old quilt from his duffle bag and tossed it over us. “It'll keep off the mosquitoes,” he explained. He turned towards me and took me in his arms and held me gently, stroking my back with his strong hand. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck and nuzzled it.
“Oh, Jimmy,” he sighed. “God help me, I love this so much.” He kissed my cheek, and his hands passed over my butt.
Without a word, I pulled back just long enough to pull off my shorts. He did the same. When we resumed our embrace, we were both naked. It was so wonderful to feel him against me. Our bodies touched from chest to hips, our legs intertwined, our rising cocks pushed together. I could feel his breath on my shoulder and I kissed his neck.
The light had grown very dim, and we could only see each other in shadows. Henry pushed my shoulder gently so that I was on my back. He raised up on his elbow and looked down at me. Hs hand ran over me from my neck to my crotch, lingering for a moment on my pubic bush, then stroking my erection, then cupping my loose balls. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
I touched his face then pulled him closer so that our lips met. We kissed. My hands touched his strong back, his firm ass cheeks, his round shoulders and muscular arms. I pressed my lips against his harder, and he responded by holding me tight. I could feel our hearts pounding in our chests now. I felt very excited to be so close to him. I moved my hips so that our cocks moved against each other. This was bliss.
Henry raised his face from mine and whispered, “I want you. Please?” I nodded and he moved down to take my cock in his mouth. It felt so warm and moist. He pulled at my foreskin with his lips, then took all of me in his mouth, his nose pressed against my bush.
I took a sharp breath. “Yes. Oh yes, Henry. Please do that some more.” He used his tongue to massage me as his head moved up and down. I held his head, feeling the kinky hair cut short on his head. After several minutes I made him stop.
“Not yet,” I told him. “I want to play some more.” I pushed him down and passed my hands over his fine body. He was so strong. He was a natural athlete. His trick on the rope looked so easy when he did it. He made it look graceful as he flipped himself into the water. I was clumsy, but he only encouraged me, patiently taught me how to do an awkward version of what he made look simple. Then he clapped for me as if I had done something wonderful.
What a treasure this boy was - this boy in my arms. I ran my face over the coarse black hair above his hard cock and licked it from one end to the other, then took him in my mouth. It felt so nice to have him in my mouth. I could feel the loose skin move over the hard shaft underneath. I could feel the small ridges along the length of him.
He was too long to fit in my mouth. I relaxed my throat and let him enter me completely. I almost choked, then relaxed again and took all of him inside. Now my face was pushed against his hips, my nose in that wonderful scratchy hair. I swallowed, and he shivered. “Oh, Jimmy! Oh, that feels so good.” He ran his fingers into my hair and pushed himself a little deeper, making me cough.
“I'm sorry,” he said in a concerned voice. “I didn't mean to hurt you.” I took him in my mouth and tried again. This time I swallowed him whole and moved my face from side to side. He was filling me up. If felt so good to me, and he moaned with pleasure.
After a minute I pulled off to catch my breath. He took me in his arms again and we pressed ourselves together. I ran my hands over his back and over his butt cheeks, letting my hands slip into the crack between them. He did not object, but raised his leg so that I could touch his hole. It was soft and moist. I had never done this before but it seemed right somehow.
I ran my finger over his hole, wondering if he liked this play. Henry said very softly. “I like that, Jimmy. It feels nice.”
I stuck my finger in my mouth and pressed his hole again, rubbing on it, letting the tip slip inside. Henry held still and raised his leg higher to give me access. “Yes,” he whispered. I slipped my finger inside him as far as I could then pulled it part way out, then pushed it in again. Henry made a soft humming sound, then turned over on his stomach and pulled his knees up. “Do what you like,” he murmured.
I sat up and ran my hands over his back, traced the crack of his ass with my fingers. His ass was so hard and muscular. There was no fat on his body, only soft skin over hard muscle and bone. “You are the one who is beautiful,” I told him quietly.
I wet my finger again and slipped it inside him. He arched his back a little and sighed. My finger was too dry, so I lowered my face to his ass and licked his crack. My tongue passed over his hole and he gave a little cry. “Yes,” he gasped.
Raising up I got behind him and pushed my face between his cheeks, making him squirm. I licked at his hole to get it very wet, then stuck my finger deep inside. As I did so, he began to move and hunch himself into the blanket. In a moment he gave a funny sound and clamped himself on my finger. “Oh! Oh, Jimmy!” then he sagged down on the blanket.
For a minute I thought I might have hurt him. Then he raised up and looked down at himself. “I made a mess,” he said with a chuckle in his voice.
“Did you cum?” I asked him.
“Yeah. That was weird,” He said and rolled over on his back. I could see something white against his dark skin in the dim light. He looked at me with a questioning face. “I can't believe I did that,” he said.
“Did you like it?” I asked, somewhat delighted that he had enjoyed the process. In the dark, I could see him nod his head. I lay across his chest and kissed him gently. “I'm glad. I'm glad you liked that.”
We kissed for a few minutes. Then Henry rolled me over on my back. “I want to make you feel good,” he said, and rubbed my chest and stomach, pulling at my modest bush and running his hands over my cock.
He leaned forward and took me in his mouth. To get all of me inside his mouth was not a great challenge for him. He sucked on me for a minute, then raised up to lick me and roll his tongue around the head while he pulled down on my balls. He rubbed my dick against his face, then sucked me again.
“That feels so good,” I said. “Whatever you're doing is wonderful.” He pulled my skin forward until it puckered over the end of my cock, then stuck his tongue inside and licked around over the head. When he pulled the skin down tight, he took me as deep inside as my size allowed and licked and swallowed until I could stand it no more.
“I'm going to shoot, Henry,” I warned him. He held me gently in his mouth and used his tongue to get me off. In a moment I flooded his throat with the best I had to give him. He moved slowly up and down. I could feel my warm cum swirling around my dick as he moved me inside his mouth.
When I began to soften, he pulled off and swallowed. “Yum,” he said and smiled at me. “How was that?” I leaned my head back and nodded my approval.
Henry lay down with me in his arms and pulled the quilt over us. We lay like that until we both fell asleep, cozy and satisfied.
I woke up when Henry stood over me. “Let's check the line,” he said.
“The line? Oh, the trot line,” I shook myself awake. He took the burlap bag and handed me the stinky jar of bait. We walked out naked into the river.
The cord was alive with motion when we pulled it up out of the water. Every other hook had a fine catfish. Several must have been nearly ten pounds. One had a large carp which Henry tossed back in the river. All in all, we had eight big cats, not counting two which were thought to be not worth keeping. As soon as Henry took them off the hook and stuffed them into the bag, he passed the hook to me to be thrust back into the foul mixture in the jar. When we reached the end, we struggled back to the shore to have Henry add them to our string of fish.
We lay back on our blanket and looked up at the star filled sky. “That is a lot of catfish,” I said. How are we going to carry them back home?” I wondered.
“We'll manage,” Henry assured me. “We might have some more in the morning.”
I looked up in the sky. There were a lot more stars visible now that we were out on the river. There was no other light except a small crescent moon off on the horizon. It was surprising to me how much light was given off by the star shine.
“What time is it?” I asked.
Henry looked up and around. “About two, I'd say.”
A breeze had come up and it felt cool against our damp skin. I yawned. Henry pulled the quilt over us and slipped his arm under my head to use for a pillow. We fell asleep that way.
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To be continued.
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