Date: Thu, 28 May 2009 16:47:13 -0400
From: Rocco Talespinner <la-plume-volante@hotmail.com>
Subject: Catching an Eel in Maine

I was a tourist in Maine, having arrived the afternoon before, and was
walking on the dock of a fishing village where guys were doing all sort of
things on their boats. It was clearly hard work but they all seemed to be
enjoying their labors, with lots of banter. As I walked among them, dressed
pretty much like the younger ones, in jeans, sneakers, and a T, this older
guy nodded at me in greeting and I responded with a verbal reply. He was
alone on his boat and we started chatting. He seemed pretty friendly and
after awhile he asked would I like to go catch an eel. To be honest, I had
no clue what these guys fished for, other than the famous Maine lobsters,
and to be really honest I hadn't a clue where one gets eels or even what
they look like. But I was eager for an authentic taste of Maine, so I said
yes.

He said, "Get in," and he started up the motor of his boat. Too late I
realized I hadn't asked how long he meant to be gone or how far out we were
going, but I figured nothing beyond the normal for a fisherman would be at
stake. So, as we rode out on the bay, I was enjoying the breeze but now
regretting I didn't have a jacket. He and I talked a bit, but the longer we
were out on the water the less he had to say. In fact, he became pretty
taciturn and I began to feel awkward about being with him.  We sped out
toward a little island, dotted with conifers standing above the rocky
shore. No sign of houses or inhabitants. As we approached, he turned so as
to maneuver the boat around the island. And then we continued, until we
were on the other side. The village we had left was totally blocked from
view. He pulled into a cove and, about 200 feet off the shore, He killed
the motor and threw out an anchor.

I figured, ahh, so now we're gonna go after an eel. I asked how we were to
do it, but he didn't reply. He also didn't reach for any equipment, so I
was puzzled. He faced away from me and fidgeted with his jeans, so I
guessed maybe he was taking a leak first. Instead, he turned around, his
cock hanging out and him leaning on the gunwale [l learned that term
later], just looking at me.

"What's this about?" I asked, with a tremor in my voice. "I thought we were
gonna fish for eel."

He sort of snorted and replied, "I asked if you wanted to catch an
eel. Well, here it is. Catch it."

"Man, I had no idea you meant anything like this. I've never messed with a
man before in my life."

He stared at me, with a stern expression on his face, "Well, there's always
a first time, and this is it for you. Let me be frank, buddy, We ain't
goin' nowhere in this boat till you have caught this eel and landed it. You
can protest or you can jump out and swim, but even if you're a strong
swimmer you wouldn't last long in this icy water. So I recommend that you
get with it, so we can head back to the harbor."

Deep down I suppose I would never have struck up an exchange with him in
the first place if I hadn't admired his manly manner and the hairy chest
under his jacket. I can't really say that he had made my cock tingle, but I
recognized now that he had picked up on something I hadn't been aware of
revealing, or even consciously feeling. This whole situation was completely
outlandish, and yet, for sure, it was a real-life dilemma. So, after
hesitating a moment, I thought, what the hell, and went over to him. I
knelt on the deck because that was the only way to get to him in that
standing position.

As my face neared his crotch I could detect a spicy male odor, not really
so bad, actually. Tentatively I leaned over and just barely licked his cock
with the tip of my tongue. He grabbed my head and pressed my face to his
crotch, his cock against my cheek and my nose buried in his bush. "Catch
that eel, son, or we're gonna be out here a long time."

I could not believe I was about to take a man's cock into my mouth, but
then it happened, and once it happened -- strange to say -- it was like
it was no big deal after all. There was, in fact, nothing especially weird
about it. [Straight guys who're hyper about not sucking dick don't know
that.] So I sucked and gradually moved further and further down his shaft,
'til I was pressing my lips hard against his pelvis.

"You learn fast, bud," he growled. "Now, give me some real action."

So it went, my first blowjob, er, eel catch. After awhile he held my head
and fucked my face. Then he grunted and groaned and there was suddenly a
load of strangely sweet and salty goo in my mouth, which he told me I had
better swallow if I knew what was good for me. I sucked until he softened;
then, he pulled out and zipped up his jeans. "Congratulations, son, on
catching that eel. You're a natural fisherman." With that he started up the
motor and we sped back across the water, saying nothing. Before too long we
pulled alongside the dock in the village. As I climbed out of the boat I
faced silent grinning stares from the other fisherman and some of them
laughed out loud, especially the younger guys.

"Oh shit! They know!" I muttered to myself, as I strode off the dock. But
then nobody seemed to give fat rat's ass either. "My first full morning on
vacation," I reflected, "and I've already had a taste of Maine."