Fly Fishing Paradise

When I got to the old ranch house on our old family place, there was no one around. We own the land, and have some cattle on it, but we don't live there any more, and none of us live in miles. So we use it as a kind of escape, a summer cabin by the river. And the river has a lot of trout in it. That was my goal.

Divorced for over two years, I had no children and no other strings, and since I can work remotely anywhere I want, I thought I might make a long weekend of it. Stowing my bag in the bedroom I always used, I uncased my fly rod, assembled it, and, since it was August, thought I'd try a grasshopper fly.

I'm a bit of a rebel, and a bit of a nudist, and I'd closed the ranch gate behind me. So without thinking too much about it I shucked off all my clothes and walked to the river, just down the small pasture. I was wearing my favorite fishing hat and my felt-bottomed wading boots, and carried my net and my vest in my other hand while I watched the tip of my fly rod to keep from snagging it.

Our ranch property runs for about a mile along the river, on both sides. So I knew it was unlikely I'd encounter anyone. Here was a good chance to work on my tan while I relaxed after a hard push to finish the manuscript I had to get done.

The river comes down from the mountains and makes a wide loop right in the middle of our property, and where I was fishing was a long run of gravel with just a few larger rocks to create structure. I have never been that good at fishing this kind of water, so I wanted to practice.

Soon I was engrossed in the sunlight on the water, the almost-automatic motion of fly-casting, and trying to figure out if I was doing the right stuff. I was standing in the current of the river, up to my shins and my knees most of the time. It felt great to be out there, and I laughed at the picture I made of a naked man in a hat, looping his line back and forth over the water.

After only a few casts, I actually caught a little rainbow trout. It was too small to keep, though, and came unhooked easily, so I wished it well and let it go.

I thought I heard someone speaking, so I looked up, and there was my sister-in-law, Pam, standing there with a disapproving pout on her face, right on the shore. For just an instant I was startled enough to think about covering myself, but almost immediately I decided I didn't care if she saw me naked or not. I'd never really cared for her much, and when my brother divorced her, or vice-versa, I was just as glad. So she wasn't really my sister-in-law anyway, and I didn't owe her anything beyond common courtesy.

"Oh, hi," I greeted her. I thought maybe she was blushing a bit, but I wasn't sure. She's a short, slender woman of about my age, dark-haired and with a light olive complexion. The disapproving pout on her face was one I'd seen before, too. No, I still didn't care for her much.

She was silent for a long moment, one hand on her hip, before she finally asked, "Catching anything?"

I pulled out a bit more line and got ready to cast before I answered. "Just that one little one." I didn't want to ask her if she'd planned to stay for the weekend. She had that right, as part of the divorce settlement with my brother, who'd moved to Saudi Arabia with an oil company and had no use for the rest of us anyway. I turned back to my fishing, maybe hoping she'd go away.

I moved slowly upstream so I could cast just below the ripples of a little gravel bar, casting as I went. I had three or four strikes from little ones who spit out the grasshopper before I could set my own strike. I think she stood there for a bit, watching me. But after awhile I forgot about her.

When I gave up on that spot and turned around, Pam was just getting ready to cast her own line downstream, and I was astonished to see that she was as naked as I was. Her brimmed fishing hat shaded her dark hair and her jawline as she faced partially away from me, and her canvas creel hung over her right shoulder. When she began her casting routine, I could tell she knew what she was doing.

Neither one of us, as far as I knew, had ever seen each other naked before, and I was mildly intrigued by this opportunity. Still, in my experience she'd been short-tempered and cold, and even if she was as beautiful as she was, I was a bit irritated to have my weekend interrupted. So I more-or-less ignored her and kept on fishing. I did notice the gentle curve of her breast from this angle, and the firm musculature of her arms and legs. She had a nice butt, too, and I noticed that she was catching fish.

"Do you mind if I copy what you're doing, if I stay on the other side over here?" I asked. The river was wide enough for two people to fish without bothering each other at this spot.

"No, go ahead. It's pretty good here." She looked at me and saw that I had a grasshopper on my tippet. "I'm using a black ant fly, and they're loving it." Since I hadn't been having any particular luck with my hopper, I tucked my fly rod under my arm, snipped the hopper off the line, and selected my own black ant from the collection sticking to my cap. Sure enough, my first cast brought a good strike, and I was able to net and release another small one. From then on, I was in hungry fish.

Finally, I caught one that I thought I'd cook and eat. Netting it with the net I'd hung over my shoulder, I turned and waded in an arc upstream and behind Pam so I wouldn't disturb her.

On shore, she'd placed her vest pretty close to mine, so while I was kneeling to kill and clean my rainbow trout on a flat rock, she came up to me with a nice rainbow in her net. I looked up and found I was at eye-level with a well-groomed pubic mound--a dark inch-wide vertical mustache right above the slit between her legs. Not reacting, I raised my eyes further and saw that she'd noticed my glance. "While you're cleaning that one," she asked, "would you do mine for me, too?"

"Sure, Pam." I noticed that she was getting chilly, as her dark brown nipples were standing out proudly. I took her fish from her and set about my business while she watched. I was hunkered down on my haunches most of the time, and I was now conscious of my personal tackle hanging low enough to brush against the gravel once in a while. I was pretty sure she had no trouble seeing.

"Here, I'll lend a hand," she announced, and dropped to her haunches herself, resting comfortably with her butt on her ankles and not being coy with her legs, either. Politely, I only glanced her way briefly, and saw her labia and maybe the nub of her clitoris quite plainly.

Soon we were done, and I stood up while she was wiping her own fillet knife in the sand. it was her turn to find herself at eye-level with my genitalia, and her gaze lingered long enough to leave no doubt that she was looking. Sighing then, she stood up.

"Can we get along long enough to fry these both up?" She asked.

"Okay by me," I answered. "You're a good fly-fisher," I complimented. We grabbed our stuff and our fish, and walked back to the old ranch house as the sun was just beginning to flirt with the ridge to the west.

"I've been fly-fishing since I was a teenager, in Colorado," Pam said. She even smiled. "And I've been fishing naked before, too, here at the ranch. This is the first time anyone else was here, of course." Her frown returned for a moment. "But if we don't go inside, I'll freeze my tits off!"

I laughed, conscious of how the cooling temperature had shrunk my junk, too. Maybe we would actually get along.

"If you don't mind, I've got a favorite seasoning blend for trout, and I'll cook these up," I offered. "You can get dressed or clean up or whatever you want."

"I brought some slices of yams, potatoes, broccoli and onions I thought I'd roast," she answered. "That suit you?"

That settled, we leaned our fly rods against the porch railing, left our nets and boots to dry, and entered through the kitchen door, still naked as jay birds. I admit there was a kind of tension in the air, but we seemed like we might be able to survive the evening. I found myself admiring her body more and more, which gave me something to think about. I wondered how this might turn out.

Pam turned on the oven, washed her hands, and found a pan to roast the veggies on. I grabbed a skillet and my can of home-made fish-rub, and then I also washed my hands. It was pretty weird, both of us choosing to stay nude but not sure yet if we liked one another.

Remembering her choice at a family gathering last year, I poured two balloons of Cabernet Sauvignon while she arranged the veggies on the pan and poured on some olive oil before sprinkling them with coarse pepper and salt. The oven beeped, so she slid the tray in on the rack, and brushed her hands off. With a concerned look on her face, she said, "I remember the old outhouse--ugh! But I've gotta pee. I'll just step off the porch."

As I slid the trout into the hot skillet, I saw her through the window over the stove, squatting off the end of the porch. She came back in and washed her hands carefully.

Well, the dinner was just right. I'd managed to pull the trout off just as they were finishing, and the roasted veggies had some kind of magic flavor on them, too. I asked Pam if we ought to dress for dinner, but she must not have thought I was serious and just sat down at her place still in the altogether.

Our conversation was pleasant enough. At one point she told me that my brother, Phil, had tried to make her into an obedient suburban housewife he could show off to the oil company executives, but that he'd never really been interested in her as a person. Sex, she said, was infrequent and usually happened when he was frustrated about work, so it wasn't very satisfactory for her. She allowed as how she hadn't been very nice to Phil's family members once she'd figured him out, but she hoped she was making a new start.

I mentioned my own divorce, which had happened two years ago. I didn't say anything bad about my ex, just that we'd not been very compatible.

We fell into a brief period of silence, then she said, "I'll do the dishes if you'll go build a nice little campfire out at the circle." The family occasionally gathered at the ranch for special holidays, and the fire pit was an important part of the mix.

It didn't take me long to get a fire going, as we kept wood and tinder nearby. Pam came out with two new glasses of wine, and I moved the lawn furniture closer to the fire to ward off the evening chill. She sat down, and I stepped in to take my wine glass from her. That's when she casually reached up and cupped her hand over my balls and penis. She actually blushed, or maybe it was the warmth from the fire. "I'm sorry--I couldn't resist. It's been so long..."

"Well, it'll grow even longer if you do that some more," I quipped.

She gave a throaty chuckle that I'd never heard from her before. "I'd like that," she answered. "I've always thought you were pretty hot, actually." She changed her grip so that she had a good hold on my shaft, and tugged me in a bit closer, squeezing and stroking gently. By then I had grown a good bit bigger, and she smiled to see it.

"That looks good enough to kiss," she said archly. When I gave no sign of objecting, she leaned in, saying, "And when I say 'kiss' I mean suck. And lick. And nibble." No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she put them into action. Sitting as she was in the plastic Adirondack chair, she had to lean forward just a little, but she took me into her mouth and bobbed in and out, then pressed my erection against my belly and nibbled gently on the sensitive underside. While she did that, holding me with one hand, her other hand was caressing her own breast and pinching her nipple.

Carefully setting my wine glass down on the little tray beside her, and following suit with her glass, I started to pull her up. But she tugged my hand, scooted her butt forward in the chair, and parted her legs. She pulled me down to kneel in the grass in front of her, and in the fading light I could see the moisture seeping out just below her little mustache. I was a little surprised by her directness, but it was okay by me. Her hand on my head guided me, and I licked her slit from bottom to top, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue. She shuddered and gave a deep sigh, and said, "That's it! Oh, Rich, that's it!"

The mild taste and aroma of her vagina was really turning me on, and I devoted myself to the best licking I could give her. I circled, I flicked, I probed, and settled in to a rhythmic lapping. Her breath came in deepening gusts, and she held my head gently in place so I wouldn't stop. As she began moaning and twitching, I reached my hand up, found a breast, and tugged on her nipple. That put her over the edge, and she jerked and wailed, flooding my chin with her juices.

Slowly she recovered, pushed my head away with another sigh, and leaned back, her thighs still parted and pretty wet. She rubbed one of her shins gently against my balls as they hung below me, and sighed again. "You're very good, Rich. I wish I'd made friends with you earlier."

I sat back on my haunches with my hands on her knees, my penis sticking straight up between us. "No time like the present," I answered.

"Indeed," she laughed. "Ooh! I'm still humming!" She scooted forward, and to my surprise, sat straight down on my thighs, using a hand to guide my penis where it needed to go. She paused a moment to lubricate the head, then eased past the entry and settled down on me with a moan. Her muscular legs began raising her up and down again as she tried to find a rhythm that worked.

This position was a bit uncomfortable for me, though, so, keeping her attached and changing one leg at a time, I got my feet under me and stood up. She gave a "weee-up" as I came to my feet, and wrapped her legs around my hips. Now we had proper purchase, and our motions became more regular. For a minute or two we made squishy sounds as she bobbed up and down, me keeping my legs braced so we wouldn't fall.

But after a bit she stopped, and said, "I'm not sure I should let you come inside me today. But I've got an idea." So I set her down, giving one of her nipples a quick lick as she steadied herself.

"I already know you're strong. I want to gobble you up, and I want you to eat me again. Do you think you can turn me over and put my legs around your neck?"

I knew what she meant, and she was a small enough woman that I knew it would work. Crossing my arms and grabbing her hips, I bent slightly and lifted her up, turning her in the air. I almost staggered, but caught myself just in time. She braced her hands on my hips as her legs wrapped around my ears, and as I found my tongue's target, she kissed my penis and then slid it into her mouth. After a couple of bobs, she lifted her head away and said, "I like the taste of me, on you!" Then she swallowed me deeply, our position in a standing sixty-nine giving her a better angle.

The sensations in my penis, and my balls when she fondled them, were growing intense. I licked her vagina in the same pattern that had worked before, stopping occasionally to nibble on her clit. She made slurping sounds with her mouth as she nibbled and swallowed my penis, interspersed with moans and gasps as my tongue did its work. As she settled into the growing sensations, I flicked my tongue rapidly on her clit and felt her spasm and almost choke on my penis. Her time came, and she clamped down on my penis with her teeth as she came--just shy of causing me pain. I hummed into her clit and vagina as she jerked, and my own orgasm gushed as she took it all in.

I kept her in place as we both came down from our high, and when I thought she'd caught her breath, I spoke to her vagina. "Well, I guess we can be friends now."

She gave a snort and started giggling, which got me giggling, too. I thought better of our position at that point, so wrapped my arms around her waist and helped her turn around and drop to her feet. She staggered when she landed, and steadied herself with a hand on my belly.

"Oh, my God," she exclaimed. "I've always wanted to try that--and here I am with my ex-brother-in-law! What would my friends say, now!"

"You're not videoing this, are you?" I asked as she washed out her mouth with a big gulp of red wine. She laughed and choked and spit out some of the wine.

When she was done coughing she gave that husky laugh again and said, "No, but if I was, I'd send it to your brother. That'd teach him!" Her face in the firelight looked as if she'd astonished herself. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"No need to feel sorry," I answered. "He's alienated everyone in the family, anyway."

"So how do we wash up?" She asked. "Heat water on the stove?"

"Well, there's always the river," I said, taking her by the hand.

"Ooh! Brr!" She exclaimed. "Okay, let's do it!" And with that, we waded hand-in-hand into the cold current up to our knees. "Here, let me," she offered, splashing water over my subsiding erection and rubbing it briskly between her hands.

She started giggling again, and lost her balance, landing on her butt in the chilly water and gasping from the cold.

Gasping myself, I sat down with her. In what I thought was a companionable gesture, I began rubbing and smearing my hand over her nether regions, but she jerked my hand away. "Aah! Too sensitive!" But shortly she completed the cleaning effort herself, and returned her attention to my now smaller penis and balls.

It was almost completely dark now, and the air felt almost as cool as the water of the river as we scrambled out and dashed for the ranch house where we found some towels. Of course we helped each other dry off, and I was thinking that I'd completely misjudged Pam's personality before.

"There's a couple of sleeping bags in here," I said. "Let's grab 'em and zip 'em together, and sleep out by the fire."

No sooner said than done, and after I'd thrown a handful of logs on the coals and Pam had refilled our wine glasses, we sat wrapped up in the bags to enjoy the fire and the wine.

"You know," I said, "I always thought you were judging us and finding us wanting. I never gave much thought to whatever was going on in your relationship with Doug."

I took a sip of wine. "And when I turned and saw you standing there watching me, you had a look on your face that said you disapproved."

"Oh, no!" She exclaimed. "I was nervous about whether I should take my clothes off, too, which is what I like to do when I'm here to fish." Pam sighed. "I always felt as if I was being judged by your family," she answered. "Doug was always after me to make a good impression, and made me think you all thought he'd married beneath himself." She took a swallow of wine. "I just couldn't pull it off, being the perfect wife, and so I just got stuck in a really unpleasant place."

Snuggled as we were with the sleeping bag pulled around our shoulders, Pam's hand was resting on my thigh. Soon she was almost thoughtlessly rubbing my penis against my thigh.

"Married beneath himself?" I asked. "You're, what? A college professor? Doug just barely graduated from college, and only then because the oil company wanted him to finish his degree."

"I know, right?"

My arm was wrapped around her back, and I was able to give some attention to her breast with my hand, and I noticed that she was beginning to twitch and squirm a little.

"I've got a kind of a secret," she whispered. "I sometimes have orgasms from my nipples." She clasped her hand over the hand I had on her breast. "I think this may be one of those nights."

She looked up at me. "I don't want you to think I'm a loose woman," she laughed nervously. "Since our divorce, I've been pleasuring myself. Finding out about my tits has been a marvelous new discovery."

Firmly grasping my growing penis, she lay down on her back, and we proceeded to experiment with the link between her nipples and her orgasms. She was right.