PAUL LOVES ROSE--PART 2 - Sex Stories

PAUL LOVES ROSE--PART 2

... for the additional work which I thought more than fair. I worked almost all day, quitting only for lunch and when I was done. He approved immensely of the job I had done. I was surprised when he asked me to come by tomorrow around one to discuss a summer job. He promised me more money than I could make doing lawns. I explained that I had a family obligation, but would try to get away for half an hour. I was beat after spending the entire day cutting the lawn, digging and trimming the beds, and spreading mulch. I drove home, called Rose and hopped into the shower. The hot water did wonders for my sore muscles. I ate a quick dinner before driving over to see Rose and take her back to the beach—this time to do some actual fishing. We joined some friends who had already caught some small blacks. I baited our hooks and cast the rods, handing one to Rose, keeping the other for myself. We were there for almost an hour when I heard Ryan make a crude comment about Rose—a comment that would have been better left unsaid. I put the rod down and walked his way. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t have to. Ryan got the message—keep your big mouth shut or risk the beating of your life. Ryan was bigger than me, but he was mostly flab while I was firm muscle. Once he knew how things were between Rose and me he walked over to Rose to apologize. It helped that Rose had not heard him. The remark was really offensive. The sun had set when the fish moved in. Blackfish typically would be found in ...

... rocky areas. When fishing from the shore that meant keeping the hook and sinker in the rocky band that was about twenty feet wide. Cast too far and you’d wind up in the barren sandy expanse that made up most of the Sound’s bottom. Cast not far enough and you’d be in the pebbles where nothing grew or lived. My secret was to cast deep into the sandy expanse and reel into the rocks. I could tell by the action of the sinker exactly where my line was. It was a practice that had always worked in the past and it worked now. I had just cast Rose’s line and handed the rod to her. She thanked me with a kiss then shooed me away to deal with a bite. Rose was an accomplished fisherman. We’d fished many times and we both knew that she could bait her own hook and cast her own line. I liked to do it for her so I did. I had a nibble just as she brought what looked like a three-pounder to the beach. I would have helped her, but I had my own fish to deal with. This was typical of fishing for blackfish. Many times I had stood or sat for hours with nothing happening only to spend the next hour fighting one fish after another. Tonight we spent more than an hour like that, throwing all but the biggest fish back to be caught another day. After catching four big ones, all over four pounds, we called it a night. We set our rods down onto the beach and walked hand in hand into the darkness. Of course, our friends knew what we were going to do—at least they thought they did. We had gone almost a half mile ...