There is an old saying about fishing and work. It goes something like this; 'The worst day fishing is better than the best day working'!
I was having one of those days. Work had gone well and, in general, I suppose it was a good day. But, I was getting 'antsy' and I wanted to get 'out of here'. With it being Friday, I skipped lunch and headed home to get a jump on the weekend.
Perhaps it was a bit of the kid in me that made me feel like I was playing 'hooky'. I suppose in many ways I just refused to grow up. As soon as I got home, I was out of my suit and tie and into my fishing clothes in a very short time. Barefooted, I sprinted through the wide expanse of my bluegrass lawn, jumped into my truck, and sped to the creek.
Now, here I was sitting on a creek bank with a fishing pole clutched in one hand and a cold beer clasped in the other. The fish weren't biting at all. Hell, this was fine with me! At least I wasn't at work! Things just couldn't get any better than this!
Time was meandering as slowly as the waters of my favorite fishing creek. I downed the last beer from the six-pack. Or, was it a twelve-pack? I disremember. Disremember? Is this a word? I think it means that I forgot to remember. I made a mental note to look it up in the dictionary later, if I didn't 'disremember' to. Had I had drank those beers too quickly? Maybe I was a bit tipsy. My head was getting fuzzy. What I needed was a good, cold, 'wake-me-up' swim.
I was sitting on a big, flat ledge rock which protruded over the calm surface of the slow moving creek. It only took seconds for me to strip down to my birthday suit. As soon as my manhood was released from its confinement inside my jeans, it sprang to life. At 30, I was still in the prime of life. I was vigorous, virile, and always horny. The thick, meaty, erectness of the rod between my legs proved this point.
Plunging into the inviting water, I was reminded pretty damn quickly that cold creek water and erect cocks are not companionable friends. No siree, they are sworn enemies! The cold water attacked my muscular meat! In self defense, the rod shriveled to half its original size.
After a few refreshing laps, I headed back for the ledge rock. I was wading through thigh-deep water when a bee began buzzing around my face. I shook my wet head, but the worrisome insect would not let me alone. I swatted at it again and again. Finally, I hit the irritating son-of-a-bitch and knocked it winding. It landed on the rock toward which I strode.
Now, wait a goddamn minute! That's not a bee! Is it? Why, it's too big. It's too big by a long shot. And hell, it's getting even bigger by the second! As my befuddled eyes stared, the 'bee' stood up on its legs. Stood up? Damnit, bees can't stand up!
Bees can't speak, either. But, this one did. Shit, it spoke plain as day! With a giggly, melodious voice, it said, "Sir, you sure are quick. That's the first time anyone has ever been able to touch me! I like to fly around and tease humans."
I suppose I'd consumed a lot more beers than I'd imagined. Why, I must be drunk as a skunk! My imagination was running wild. My mind knew for a fact that the girl hadn't really spoken. Girl...? I wondered why this word came to my mind.
My eyes focused again on the 'imaginary' creature. Why hell, it sure looked like a girl! I saw a tiny feminine head, torso, and legs. Luminous, pale blue, semi-transparent wings fluttered behind the creature's back. The winged sprite was even speaking in a soft, feminine voice, "Why are you staring at me like that? You act like you've seen a ghost. Do you think I'm a ghost?"
Well, I wasn't about to engage in a conversation with a figure out of my inebriated imagination! No, I wasn't! Contrarily, curiosity took control of my senses and caused my voice to involuntarily speak, "No, I don't think you're a ghost. For all I know, you're a fairy or some other mythical creature."
The girl seemed offended. She spoke irritably, "Fairies are not mythical creatures! They're not 'creatures' at all. And, they're as real as you are Mister! I guess I ought to know because I'm one myself! Technically I'm a 'Pixie'."
Pixie my ass! She wasn't real! Yet, I could still hear her voice, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Belle. 'Bell' is actually my last name. I added an 'e' to it and made it my first. I bet you can't guess my real first name? What's your name?"
Without knowing why, I answered, "My last name is 'Pan' and it's real. I didn't make it up. My first name is Peter. Girlie, I couldn't guess your name if I tried! The only 'Belle' I've heard of is the one in Beauty and the Beast."
The girl giggled again. She spoke merrily, "I'm not 'that' Belle, she's prettier than me. I like her though because she's so sweet. I've been to parties with her. You've gotten your stories mixed up. My first name is actually 'Tinker'."
I now knew for damn sure I was intoxicatingly 'smashed'. I was talking to a 'being' named... Hell, I didn't dare think it! But, I did. I thought about what I was doing. I was talking to...a fairy calling herself, 'Tinker Bell'.
While I was thinking, the diminutive female apparition vigorously shook her head. Golden dust fell from her hair and cloaked her tiny body from sight. When the dust cloud settled, a full sized feminine form sat on the rock before me.
Good god, I suddenly thought. There was no mistaking her femininity now! The female creature was about five foot two with eyes of sparkling blue. She probably weighed no more than one hundred pounds. Shimmering blond curls covered her head with a ponytail bun sitting up high.
As to her age, well if I was to use human years as a measurement, I'd say she looked like she might be in her late teens or perhaps even near to the ripe old age of 20. But, truth be told, I didn't know a hell of a lot about judging the age of fairies.
This particular fairy was definitely an undeniable female version of her mythological species. Her dress provided the most revealing evidence of femininity. It had no shoulders, it had no sleeves, and it had hardly any back! The zigzagging hemline was so short it barely covered her crotch and ass. Pale green was the color.
Only two things kept the dress from falling off the feminine form. Both of them were nicely-formed, well-rounded breasts! My eyes locked on to those protruding mounds and stared in wonder. My gaze moved only to look at her legs. Slim, seductive limbs started at green slippers and traveled upward and disappeared under the hem of the micro-short dress.
My mesmerized mind was wondering if she had on panties or a bra under her skimpy fairy costume. My shriveled manhood was recovering from its cold water immersion. Fairy, pixie, or whatever the hell this beguiling creature was, her stunningly sexy feminine shapes were making my cock hard again!