"That Duck was Pissed Part2" Cheif's Lake

“That Duck Was Pissed!”
Part Two

Chief’s Lake

I Now that Wetzel understood how he should act; I told him he was going fishing with me the next weekend. On this trip, I wanted to more than touch him—-I wanted to suck his beautiful, tender dick while I held his firm, ass in my hands. I wanted his churning balls in my mouth and to lick his shaft clean as wave after wave of his cum spilled from his superb sperm hole.

The pay lake we were going to was “Chief’s Lake.” Chief’s Lake, is a striking lake that sits on rolling property with old trees at either end. Oftentimes, when the water is calm and the temperature is just right, it mirrors sunsets of the finest quality. Hues of reds, blues and purples are reflected in the wide, flat lake in the evening, doubling the pleasure of the coming dusk.

On our way to the lake I kept my hand between Wetzel’s left thigh, making sure I gave his balls and firm cock a couple of gentle strokes every now and then. The heat from his groin was building and that familiar smell of his cotton pants getting moist from the heat intensifying in his cock and balls released an overdose of endorphins in my brain. Wetz, was a natural pain killer.

It was a couple hours before dark and Wetzel and I had already polished off four or five beers by the time we arrived at the lake. Our conversation was one of fun and motivation—-we were going to have a great time. “And you know what Forest?” we even remembered to bring a couple fishin’ poles.

In the parking lot we unloaded our fishing gear, coolers full of beer, tent and other equipment from the truck and headed toward the opposite end of the lake. It was nice there, lots of trees, secluded and lots of clean bank that we could romp on.

We built a roaring fire with the little bit of firewood an kindling we brought with us; we would go “on the hunt,” for more later. After we’d set the tent up and got the rest of our gear where we wanted it we settled in. I handed Wetzel a beer and grabbed one for myself—-they were ice cold……not refrigerator cold oh no, huh uh they were ICE COLD!.

“Wetzel come here a sec.,” I said, in a tone that was out of character for me. Wetzel, noticed at once. Hesitantly, he came over to me and I could see that he was starting to get that worried look, my groin began to stir.

“Yes?” he ask, “did I do something wrong—are you mad at me?” he said and gave me an impish grin. That’s when I knew he was playing with me and that he knew that I wasn’t mad.

“Seriously, I want to talk to you for a second before we get started fishing and this isn’t going to be easy for me so listen okay?”

I sat down on the bank and Wetzel set down beside me; he looked at me as I looked out over the sunset’s echo on the lake. It was the most beautiful ever; I don’t know if it really was, or just the company I had with me this time. He did the same. The beers by now were hitting me and before I told Wetzel what I had to tell him, I wanted to clear my head.

Being very serious I began, “I….I….don’t really know how to tell you this Wetzel but, …. ”

I stopped and I could tell Wetzel was anxious to hear what I had to say. I leaned over and started, lightly, kissing him on the back and shoulders, he shivered, goose bumps appeared on his flesh “I love you,” I said.

He dropped his head and exhaled, smiling as if someone had just taken a hundred pounds off his back. He put his hand on my leg and took a sip of his beer. Then looking at me in the most manly way I’ve ever witnessed said, ” I know, I love you too.” It was a perfect thing, on a perfect day, on a perfect sun drenched lake.

We fished for awhile until it was past midnight periodically stoking the fire. We had some nice bites with one breaking my line—a cat fisherman I’m not!

The beers flowed, freely and we seemed more at ease now. Our true feelings were in the open and we trusted fully that they would remain between he and I. Our communication and touching became uncomplicated; we both agreed we felt much better.

Out beyond our campsite and down by the lake, I searched for firewood and found some up at the east end where the cattails grew. I found some more by an old campsite and some over by a tree that had roots extending out into the water.

Walking back to the campsite with my arms piled high I could smell that some of it was apple wood, some oak and some ash, all good cooking hardwoods. I packed it back up to just beyond our campsite and dropped it there.

As I was walking back into the light of the campfire I noticed Wetzel as he looked up quickly, taking a short quick breath; his wide eyes darting, hurriedly behind and beside me like he was startled and didn’t have time to say anything.

I didn’t think and just reacted, putting my fist up with my knuckles facing backward just over my right shoulder. I felt something impact my fist and when I turned to look—–it was a duck and she was pissed.

“What the fuck?” Wetzel said, after he had regained his composure.

“I think I may have took some wood from her nest while I was hunting firewood,” I told him, laughing.

The duck kept looking back over her shoulder as she retreated down the trail mumbling something under her breath (that she better be glad I didn’t hear). Wetzel and I laughed until we couldn’t hardly standup.

When we finally stopped, I had my arm around Wetzel’s waist and was holding him close. We gazed longingly, into each others eyes—–we kissed tenderly and ravenously. The taste of his mouth and tongue were the sexiest things I’ve ever tasted in my life.

I took him by the hand and led him into the tent.

When we were inside I zipped the flaps shut then turned to Wetzel who was about to fall down from all the beers we drank—-damned he was cute! I put my arm back around his waist with my hand resting in the small of his lower back, kissed him on the lips, unbuckled his pants and lowered them down to his ankles.

“Hey! what’s this?” I ask, when I noticed he had on laced, white, thong cotton panties.

Putting his hands up and locking his fingers together behind my neck, he let his arms hang loosely between us. He looked me in the eyes and said, “I just thought you might like them on me.”

Holding him gently by the hips and kissing him again, “well, you were wrong,” I said.

“Wrong! you don’t like them?” he ask, I could tell I had hurt his feelings.

“Hell no! I don’t like them,” I said, acting pissed. “I fucking love! them,” I teased. “But, how did you know we were going to…….” my voice trailing off as he looked at me with a sideways grin. “Oh,” I said, approvingly.

His feet were bare and his ass looked perfect in his white panties. “Wetzel take your shirt off,” I ordered him, he obeyed. “Mmmm!” I murmured, rubbing his prominent abs., and pecs with my left hand and cupping his left ass cheek with my right hand, pulling him close and kissing him again. He moaned softly.

I stripped to my underwear and turned the lantern on low, that was hanging in the middle of the tent so he could watch me go down on him. I had already decided earlier to do him first just in case he was worried about how to make the first move.

As I kneeled down in front of Wetzel’s dick and placed my face in his groin, my hands caressing the firmness of his ass—-I could smell his manhood, it was intoxicating. The odor of his pungent cock through his white cotton panties had a faint smell of urine that made me horny as hell. I gathered his laced panties up in my hand by the leg holes which made his stiffening peter look like it was pulled up in a jock strap, revealing his soft pubic hair. I licked on both sides leaving trails of saliva beside his cock and testicles.

I looked up at him and he was watching me intently stroking the back of my head softly. I kept looking at his exquisite, emerald eyes as I pulled his panties down to his knees. I took his tender, semi hard penis in my right hand and lifted it up where I could lick the under side of it. When I got to the head of his six and half inch cock, I let it rest on my tongue and his piss hole rested on the middle of my upper lip, while we continued eye contact.

As I slid my tongue back and forth on the underside of his penis, he closed his eyes and his knees buckled slightly. I licked and sucked his cock as I examined every square inch of it; I wanted to know it better than my own—-it smelled so! good. It was completely hard—–so hard, that the purplish colored head of it was shinny. The rim of it was covered in my spit and the top of it from there to his pubic hair was long and smooth with barely visible bluish, green colored veins. A brownish ring that is actually a scar from where he was circumcised encircles his dick about one and a half inches from the head of it. The sides of it round symmetrically to a grooved area on either side underneath with a little hump in the middle that runs the length, back to his ball sack. On one side is a big vein that runs back to another one that “Y’s,” off and runs around to the other side of his cock and they both join going back to his nuts. There’s tiny stretch lines on his hard on, that let’s his peter expand as it gets hard, encircling it from the head to his pubes. His balls hang unevenly in their sack with the left one just a little lower than the right. Their outline is not exactly round but, more egg shaped—from the top of his cock by his pubic area to the bottom of his sack is about four and a half inches. His nut sack is slightly browner in color than his fantastic cock.

Holding his balls carefully in the palm of my right hand, I began to deep throat his cock—the head of it pushing on the back of my throat expanding, wiping off his pre cum there. My left hand cupped the bottom half of his right butt cheek as my middle finger began to search for his dank, unexplored butt hole.

As we made eye contact again Wetzel began to moan holding the back of my head with both hands, as I lovingly licked and sucked him. Removing his peter from my mouth I asked him if he wanted to lay down which he agreed to—–I finished pulling his pants and panties off and laid him down easily on one of the sleeping bags there. I took a cold drink from a long neck Miller High Life and laid down beside him.

Wetzel spread his legs easily and I cupped his ass cheeks, one in each hand and buried my mouth back on his dick—–he moaned—-I sucked harder. He raised his butt in the air and began pumping his hips forcing his great cock down my throat. The tent was nice and cozy, crickets and nocturnal animals (no ducks), were out on the hunt. Soft sounds of me sucking my best friends cock were the only sounds, the light from the lantern gave the tent a warm glow our shadows on the nylon walls mocking our lustful moves.

“Oh, ahhuuhh, shit! I’m fixin” to cum,” he said , in a hushed tone pushing his hips up farther. “Oh! Suc, suc, suckkk! me,” he cried. I looked up his perfect little body as he spermed down my throat; his butt was up off the tent’s floor, his abdominal muscles were rigid and I could see the outline of each individual muscle as he clamped his supple thighs against the side of my head.

I took him deep down my constricting throat as I worked to give him the best head ever. When I backed off from deep throating him, my tongue hit every sensitive area on his wonderful cock I could think of. Most areas I knew were common to all men but a few spots were special to only him. I made sure that my mouth never let any cool air past that would distract him from the heartfelt, warm, sucking I was giving him.

Just, when I thought he was done cumming he raised his hips and shot another stream of sperm in my mouth. It was better than anything I had ever tasted and I knew it was because, it came from Wetzel’s cock.

……to be continued

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