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Fisherman's Luck
The boat slowly rocked, as we hauled in the last of the lines from a long day of fishing. The ocean had calmed, the rare east wind now just a slight breeze, turning the usually turbulent Pacific into a mirror.
The summer fishing season had been a good one for us, filling the hold every day with a harvest of salmon, and, for a few weeks, tuna. Today, we hadn't filled the hold yet and there was enough ice to last another day. Captain Mike had decided we should stay out overnight. We'd save on fuel, and take some time to enjoy a rare calm evening on the ocean.
It was just the two of us now. Joe, the college kid Mike had hired at the start of summer, had left yesterday, wanting some time to play before heading back to school. Without Joe, we'd worked extra hard, pulling in the heavy lines loaded with salmon, our backs fully into the work, even with the help of the power winches.
We were both covered with sweat, fish blood and slime, the hold about two thirds full. We lifted the cover over the hold and tied the lines, coiling them for tomorrow's early morning run.
We'd run about ten miles off shore, and found ourselves all alone on the sea, far enough out that we could only see the tops of the coastal mountains, and the still bright sun heading down to the horizon. Already, the western sky was turning a brilliant orange.
Mike turned on the hose pump, spraying the deck with a healthy nozzle blast of sea water.
"Spray me down, too, " I shouted over the rumbling sounds of the water pump and the diesel engine.
Mike turned the hose on me, rinsing off the day's accumulation of grime from my rubber pants, boots and coat. The cold sea water refreshed me, and I peeled off my T-shirt and jeans, motioning him to hose me down as well. The day's stench of fish and sweat poured off me, replaced with the tangy smell of salt water and fresh sea air.
"My turn," Mike shouted, tossing the nozzle and the end of the hose to me.
I sprayed him down, and watched him strip off his rubber clothes, then his shirt and pants.
We laughed, enjoying cooling off under the water, and getting clean after the sweaty day hauling in fish.
Mike turned to me, and stripped off his boxers, his cock flopping into the air, under a thick bush of hair that ran up his belly and across his muscular chest.
"Clean me up all the way," Mike laughed.
He spread his legs on the deck, directing me to soak down his crotch. He turned, spreading his butt cheeks, and I hosed him down there, too, admiring the tight muscles of his legs, butt, and back, and the whorls of hair across his cheeks and legs.
"Ah, that felt great," he said. "Now, let's get you clean all over, too."
I blushed, not sure I wanted Mike to see me completely nude. My cock had swollen at the sight of my captain's impressive cock and large hairy balls. He didn't know I was gay. Being a gay fisherman isn't a popular asset in the fishing fleet, and I'd kept those secrets away from him.
"Come on," he said. "Drop your shorts, so I can clean you up. Then, we can have a beer."
I stripped off my already soaking wet boxers, and faced Mike, my cock at half mast.
"You're a big one," he said, as he hosed me down.
I turned, letting him hose down my butt crack and giving him a good view of my ass and the back of my ball sack.
He flicked a switch, and the pump fell silent, the hose spilling the last of the salt water across the now clean deck. He cut the engine, too. Our day was done and we could just drift for the night.
The quiet filled my ears, broken only by a few bird cries and the soft breeze through the rigging.
"Let's hang up all that gear on that line, and we can let 'em air dry over night," he said. "I'll get us some beers."
Our wet, but clean gear soon hung over a line above the deck, the air feeling unusually warm.
I stood there, still half hard, taking in the sight of his bare ass as he stepped into the cabin to get the beers from the ice chest.
"What's he going to think of me, popping a hard on," I thought, my brain still thinking of his muscled, hairy body and his thick cock dancing in the sea breeze.
Mike stepped out of the cabin, his hands clenching two quarts of IPA from a local brewery, one of the region's most popular beers.
"Let's relax," he said, handing me a bottle.
"Cheers, and to a good day's work," he added.
We clinked our bottles and then took a healthy swig of the cold beer.
"Uh, shouldn't we get some clothes?" I asked.
"Nah, its warm out, and we can air dry. Besides, there's no one but us for as far as we can see. Just us men here," he said.
Mike winked at me, and broke into a smile.
"You know, you're a good looking man," he said. "You got some nice equipment there."
I blushed, my cock still half hard.
"You might not know it, Jim," Mike said. "But I've been admiring you for quite a while. It's no secret to me that you like men. And, so do I, especially good looking men like you."
I stammered, not knowing what to say.
A few pelicans soared past, their wings outspread, silently gliding over the near mirror-like ocean, silhouetted against the brilliant colors of the evening sky.
"Peaceful out here, isn't it? Mike asked.
I nodded, my heart still racing over what Mike had said about me being gay, and him liking men.
"Now what, where do we go with that?" I thought.
A bit of sweat broke out in my pits, and I felt my balls rise a bit in their sack. My cock betrayed me, too, growing a little harder, a little bigger.
"I, I don't know what to say," I said.
Mike nodded, looking into my eyes.
"Well, I'm hoping you'll say yes, Jim," he said. "I'd like us to get to know each other a lot better tonight."
"You've got a beautiful body, and I'd like to share my bed with me."
"I'd like you to teach me some things, too, about how to really love a man," he said.
"I nodded, and stepped towards him, moving close to his chest, as his arms closed around me, his strong hands grasping my back, and a cheek of my butt.
His lips found mine, and we kissed, softly at first. The bristles of my two day old beard snagged in the thick nest of whiskers of his thick, curly beard.
"I don't really know all that much," I whispered.
"Oh, I bet you know more than you think you do," Mike said, breaking out in a grin.
His fingers ran across my cheek and along my whiskery jaw and chin.
"I like my men bearded," he whispered. "Especially when they suck my cock and lick my balls."
I blushed again, feeling shy at his touch, and his invitation.
"I really haven't been with very many guys," I said. "I probably won't be very good for you, won't satisfy you."
"Nonsense," Mike said. "We have all night, and we'll take this slow. We'll both learn about each other, and become even better lovers."
Mike kissed me again, his tongue hard against my lips, finding my own tongue, and sucking gently on it, his breath soft and warm against my face.
His hands moved across my hips, finding my now stiff cock between our bellies, his fingers grasping me, slowly moving up and down my shaft. He slowly pushed my foreskin down from around the tip of my cock, and slowly moved around my piss slit, wettened by the drop of precum that had oozed out.
"You're such a big man," Mike whispered.
His hand kept stroking me, as he moved down to my chest, his lips and tongue sucking gently on a nipple. His fingers tugged on the patch of fur in the center of my now sweaty chest, my heart pumping even more blood into my fully erect cock, pulsing in his fingers.
Mike moved down even further, kneeling on the deck, nudging me back against the boom, and pushed my bare feet farther apart, my crotch now fully open to his bearded face and wet, inviting lips and tongue.
He took me slowly, sliding down until his lips met his fist grasping the base of my cock, and then began to dance with me, sliding slowly up and down, his spit soaking into the curls surrounding my cock. His other hand explored me slowly, cupping my balls, rolling them between his fingers, then running back along the line that ran between my balls and back towards my hole.
Soft moans escaped my lips, as I looked down beyond my naked, sweaty chest, to my Captain's head against my groin, watching him slowly move in and out against my cock, his moustache and beard catching in my bush, the day's last sunlight glinting on his bearded face and my sweaty chest and belly.
A hand moved up, finding my nipple again, and stroking it, sending waves of electricity down my body and into my balls, as my cum began to rise, until he would push me over the edge, and I'd shoot ropes of my seed across his hairy, manly face and across his thick chest.
All too soon, I cried out Mike's name, as he sucked my seed out of my aching, thrusting cock, across his lips and tongue, and down his furry chest, his fingers massaging my prostate, sending bolts of lightning through my brain.
He slid me to the deck then, me gasping for air, my legs weak, unable to hold my still spewing cock. He held me in his arms, his hands gently stroking my balls and my chest, his mouth tasting the last of my seed, leaving me wet and spent.
The slight swell of the ocean rocked me almost to sleep, as Mike kissed me again, his salt-roughened hands again exploring me, guiding me to his still hard cock and his full balls.
"Your turn, Captain," I whispered, as I moved to slide on top of him, my lips taking their time to explore his nipples, the thick fur splayed across his chest, his hard, furry belly, and the treasures that were just beyond.
Later, we paused to finish our first bottles of beer, watching the full moon rise above the far off mountains, our faces still smeared by the drying cum of two new lovers.
It would prove to be a long night at sea, the silence broken occasionally by the moanings of men crying out each other's names and the names of the gods of the sea, and naked, sweaty skin of an old salt slapping in an age old rhythm against another naked fisherman.
--Oregon Bear 10/18/2016