Man for Man

Fly Fishing With Steve


Steve had pulled off his shirt, too, and I took more than a few admiring glances at his muscular chest and shoulders, and the full pelt of fur splayed across his pecs and the long thick line of hair that ran down into his waders. As he cast his line across the deep green pool of the river, I could see the damp hair of his pits, shiny and wet.


He was an expert fly fisherman, and learned the art from his dad and his grandpa, up in Montana. He'd offered to take me here, to one of his favorite spots, and teach me some of the tricks he'd known since he was a kid. I'd fished for a couple of years, but felt I was pretty much of a novice, especially around Steve.

We'd been seeing each other most of the winter, first meeting at a friend's house for a New Year's party. We both did the same kind of work, and enjoyed the same things in life, a good microbrew, fishing, and men. Real men, muscular, hairy, men who weren't afraid to get their hands dirty and enjoyed their loving hard and sweaty. We hadn't moved in together yet, both of us still gun shy after some disastrous relationships, and because we each enjoyed our independence.

This was our first time spending a week together, away from the city and the weekly card parties and sports events we enjoyed with our friends. Oh, we'd had some good talks, and more than good times in bed with each other. But, we both realized that a relationship was more than such a long roll in the hay a couple of times a week, and we wanted to see how we got along together, without the distractions of everyday life.

The sun was straight up and my stomach was grumbling. It had been a long time since the two cups of coffee and a roll this morning, before we hiked up here a couple of miles and plunged into the river. Not that I was complaining. This was paradise. Crystal clear mountain water, granite boulders and cliffs, and the newly budded spruce and aspen trees along the stream. I could look up and see a couple of the tall peaks in the nearby range, still completely covered in snow, sparkling in the sun of this cloudless day.

A couple of eagles had flown over us during the morning, and we heard a wolf howl. There was also a herd of mountain sheep on the nearby ridge, and several flocks of songbirds kept flying into the nearby aspens, then darting up and down the river.

"Hey, Steve," I called. "How about some lunch?"

"Sure. My stomach's getting pretty empty," he said.

He reeled in his line, his large biceps flexing. He kept himself fit, despite his new promotion to a desk job. He was always getting me to join him down at the gym after work, to pump some iron and do some cardio. I really wanted to just lie down on the couch after a long day, but Steve kept telling me I would feel better if I worked out most every day. Oh, he was right, and I did have more energy in the evenings, and slept better. And, was a better lover. I knew all that. But, old habits die pretty hard.

Still, I was losing some of the fat around my belly, and my legs and arms were a lot stronger. I had more energy, too. I really did. And, I was making head way on losing most of my winter fat.

We waded back to the bank, back to where we had dropped our day packs, and slipped out of our waders. They'd be too hot to keep on in the heat of the day, anyway. And, besides, the boots were sopping wet. We'd both slipped on the bottoms of long underwear, to keep the chill of the river out of our legs, and those came off, too, right after the waders.

Steve hadn't worn any shorts under his long johns, and well, I didn't either. And, no one else was around for probably ten miles. It felt good to feel the warmth of the sun on my back and my butt. The river water was pretty chilly and we'd been out there for about three hours.

The long line of black hair ran down to Steve's belly, and spread across his firm belly, then meshed with the thicker bush above his cock, and the thick curls of hair around his cock and balls. You could hardly see his balls behind the thick hair, but his uncut cock danced a bit as he stood on one leg, pulling off the last leg of his long johns.

I hardened a bit, watching his cock sway and dance in the sunlight. Steve was such an incredible lover with me, his cock hard against my ass when we first slipped into bed, Steve's strong, calloused hands holding my chest, pulling me back into his hard pecs and fur. He always liked to be the first to cum when we made love. Not that he was greedy. But, he was always so hard, and even though he wanted to take his time with me, his horniness always got the best of him and he couldn't wait very long before he slipped his cock into my ass and began to pump away, building up to his climax, and letting out long moans and gasps as he reached his peak.

He'd always break out into a sweat, soaking me with his wet fur, the smell of his sweat filling the room with his aroma. I could never get enough of him, how he smelled, the heat of his chest, and the droplets of sweat that would fly off of his chest and beard as he thrust hard and deep inside of me, his hands grasping my chest, or my hips, until he burst thick and wet inside of me, his seed spilling out and soaking my balls.

Then, he'd take his time with me, slowly exploring every inch of me, running his fingers across my shoulders and chest, playing with my nipples until they ached, and my cock was on fire with lust. He'd suck on each tit, again and again, until I moaned, and then, his wet moustache and beard and hot tongue would slowly move downward, inch by inch, until he took my cock deep into his mouth, his saliva soaking my balls again. And, one finger, and then, another, would explore my hole, as he rode my cock with his mouth, until my entire body would beg for release.

We would take turns, for an hour or two, on the nights we spent together. And, it was magical, every time. He would take his time with me, and I learned to take my time with him, too. He taught me to enjoy the dance, slow and easy, and to learn new ways of being with a man. I thought I was pretty experienced in the dance of love, but Steve could always find a way to surprise me, and to make me feel like the center of his world.

"Looks like you're a happy boy," Steve chuckled. He was standing in front of me, bare assed naked in the midday sun, the river sparkling behind him.

"Yeah, this place is beautiful," I said, not quite knowing what he was getting at.

"Oh, yeah, this is a beautiful place, but you're a lot more beautiful than the river," he said.

I followed his eyes down, and saw that my cock was sticking straight up.

I blushed, looking away a bit, embarrassed that my cock had joined me in my thoughts, of making love with Steve.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, "Steve said. "I was thinking the same thing. This would be a nice place to get to have a little dessert before lunch and rest up from all that fishing."

I nodded, chuckling a bit at Steve's playfulness. He moved closer, taking me in his arms. I could feel the heat of the sun coming off of his chest and thick arms, and the smell of the river water and his clean sweat rising from his hairy pits, as his moustached lips found mine. He kissed me tenderly, holding me tight, his cock thickening and becoming hard against my belly.

I imagined him thrusting hard into me, as we lay in the early spring grass by the river, the sound of the rapids upstream in our ears as he came hard and fast, deep inside of me, one hand holding my hard cock, as he moaned, calling my name.

Rate this story:

Keywords: horniness / uncut cock / my cock / biceps / relationship / bear / deep inside / my butt / dad and son / dad and son / bear / bottom / muscular / lust / underwear / first time / my ass / sweaty men / heterosexual / my cock / butt / gay boy / tongue / balls / cum / his cock / ass / cock / uncut cock
In fictional stories it is fine to have sex without condoms, but in reality you should always use a rubber, regardless if you use Prep or not. Prep only protects for HIV, thats why other diaseases spread among Prep users that practice bareback sex.