Fishing for a Trophy

Jake traveled light. Rather than packing a tent, he had strung up a hammock between two trees, his sleeping bag unfurled on his deluxe accommodations.

“So what do you do if it rains?” I asked upon entering his campsite, motioning towards the evening clouds that so often build-up in the Rockies.

“I find alternative accommodations,” he replied, coyly. “I enjoy sharing a tent with the right guy,” he winked, squatting next to the campfire as he fried up the big fish.

There’s that guy thing again, I thought to myself. Jake was wearing a pair of loose fitting swim trunks, and no shirt, a silver nipple ring I had previously missed glistening on his exposed chest. As he moved about camp, his big trouser trout swung freely in his shorts and I snuck furtive glances at his poorly concealed weapon. As he squatted by the fire to turn the fish, his cock peeked from the hem of his shorts, revealing the massive helmet that sat gloriously on the head of his proud member. Trying to ignore the strange stirring in my shorts, I offered Jake a drink.

“I don’t have a fish to contribute to the meal, but how about some mean hooch and a little wild rice?” I offered.

“Perfect,” Jake responded as he took a deep swig from my flask. “That stuff is smooth.”

“Only the best for my guests here at Emerald Lake,” I joked, as I put a pot on to boil for the rice.

As dinner cooked, we drank freely and talked about our lives back in civilization. Turned out we were both sports nuts, had a passion for fine wine, and had attended the same college. Jake owned a sporting goods store in Colorado Springs that specialized in rock climbing and mountaineering equipment.

As the booze took effect and we filled our bellies with the bounty of the land, the talk turned again to sex.

“So your wife doesn’t fulfill you sexual needs?” Jake asked. “What’s that all about? You are a handsome and successful guy.”

“Thanks,” I replied, sheepishly. “The spark is just gone from our lovemaking. She tolerates the monthly wham-bam-thank-you-mam but trying to light a fire under her libido is like trying to build a bonfire with wet matches.”

“So is the problem her kindling or your matches?” Jake, the amateur psychologist continued as he stretched out on his hammock, taking another deep swig from the scotch flask.

“Interesting question you pose,” I replied, my eyes glued to Jake’s crotch as his shorts became snagged on the hammock, riding up to reveal several inches of his thickly veined dick. “I’ve often wondered if the right blow torch could ignite the fires that must burn deep inside her well guarded box.”

“The right blow torch, huh?” Jake laughed. “So you think she has pent-up sexual aggressions that you have been unable to tap?”

“Something like that,” I answered, the affects of the scotch starting to swirl my cognitive abilities. “Truth be told, I watch a lot of porn and I know its just TV and acting and all that shit, but damn it’s incredible to watch some straight-laced little hottie go off the deep end when she gets fucked by a big, fat dick.”

“So you think your dick is incapable of ‘sending her off the deep end’, so to speak,” Jake said.

“Sad but true,” I replied. “Maybe she needs a horse hung stud to unlock the passion between her legs.”

“Interesting hypothesis, Dr. Curt,” Jake laughed, as he swung his legs out of the hammock, rising to a half sitting position. “But after analyzing your predicament, I have to wonder if it isn’t you that is infatuated with big cocks!”

Simultaneous with his accusation, Jake reached into his shorts and pulled out his thick tool, the fat, doughy softness of his once flaccid member slowly disappearing behind the steely curtain of his rapidly hardening boner.

“You have been ogling my package ever since you laid eyes upon it and your face does a poor job of disguising the lust and desire raging through your body,” Jake spat. “Don’t hide your homoerotic fantasies behind your wife’s poor sex drive, your pornographic addiction, or your homophobic fears.”

As Jake preached from his hammock, he slowly stroked his incredible cock, his large hand barely reaching around his massive girth. I was again struck speechless and mesmerized by his glorious tool in the flickering light of the campfire, the sun setting behind the lake and a full moon rising over Jake’s shoulder. Based on the raging boner in my shorts, maybe Jake was right.

“Crawl over here little man,” Jake ordered. “I know you want…make that need, to take a closer look.”

Unable to resist, I slowly crawled towards Jake, kneeling between his tree-trunk like legs to study his throbbing staff. It sprouted perpendicular from the jungle of dark hair around his taught lower abdomen, a pulsing vein meandering down the top of his tool. Unbelievably, the mushroom shaped head was fatter than his thick shaft, purple and angry as creamy pre-cum leaked from his piss slit. Twelve inches if it was an inch, his cock was the embodiment of masculinity and power.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, awe and fear mixed in my voice. His crotch smelled musky but not unpleasant, far better than the clammy, moist stench of my wife’s pussy.

“Touch it Curt,” Jake calmly ordered. “Feel it. Stroke it. Touch another man’s cock. Trust me, you are going to learn to enjoy it.”

Unable and frankly unwilling to resist, I lightly grasped Jake’s penis. Visions of cross-eyed porn actresses, overcome by lust and longing shot through my mind. An electric impulse seemed to radiate from Jake’s big tuning fork, drawing my focus and attention center stage to his incredible boner. Finally I understood the goofy look on those starlets’ faces as they stared down the long, fat barrel of a well endowed porn stud – a big cock was a holy grail, something to be worshiped, praised, and exalted. I didn’t know where this night was leading, but fuck was I ready to find out.

“You like that, don’t you Curt?” Jake glared, his hand massaging his firm belly and lightly tweaking his erect nipples as I slowly stroked his big meat. “Grasp it firmly, you won’t hurt it. It’s just like yours, only so much bigger and more powerful.”

“It’s awesome,” I admitted, stroking more firmly, using his pre-cum to lubricate the big piston.

“I partly agree with your theory,” Jake continued. “I don’t doubt that I could do wonders for your wife’s libido, but tonight I am going to open whole new worlds to your perverted little mind.”

“Teach me, Jake,” I whimpered. “Open my eyes.”

“I’ll open your eyes, bitch,” Jake snarled. “But right now I want you to open your pretty little mouth.”

Jake stood up from the hammock, his spear jutting wickedly at my surprised face. He grabbed his cock roughly and slapped my exposed face, “Open up sweetie, it’s Jake time.”

After two more vicious slaps, I opened my virgin mouth, unsure where I was going to put this foot long tonsil tickler.

“Watch those teeth,” Jake snarled as he pushed the head of his cock past my open lips. “Open up wider and use your tongue to lube my head. I’d hate to get my poorly oiled piston stuck down your tight little throat.”

Visions of the literally thousands of blowjobs I have watched rushed to my mind. As my initial shock wore off, my instincts took over and I morphed into a well-trained head aficionado, using techniques I had only previously observed in the movies or in magazines. As I used both hands to wring his fat shaft, I explored every vein and crevice with my tongue. I had often fantasized about the perfect blowjob – only now a strange twist of fate had me giving, not receiving.

“That’s it, Curt,” Jake encouraged. “I can tell already you have a real enthusiasm for your new hobby.”

Jake roughly grabbed my head between his powerful hands and pulled, forcing several inches of his now rock hard boner down my throat. I choked briefly, fighting my gag reflex but did not try to pull off his throat spear, confident I could handle this hot piece of molten lava.

“You are a hot little bitch, Curt,” Jake moaned, his hands still locked behind my head. “Most guys are a little intimidated by my size, but you are a real size queen, I can tell.”

Unable to speak, more than half of Jake’s cock stuffed down my throat, I looked up at this towering hunk of man, my eyes watering and nodded. I was a fucking size queen and I was in heaven.

“And to think, you wanted to waste this big cock on your wife’s tight little cunt,” Jake continued. “I like pussy OK, but women are just too fucking soft and tender. Sex should be hard, and rough. I hope you like it hard and rough, my little cocksucking buddy.”

As Jake finished his tirade, he forced another couple of inches down my already stretched gullet, holding me impaled on his cock for several seconds, his pubic hair lightly tickling my nose, before withdrawing from my throat. As his head reached the cavity of my mouth and my tongue swirled around his gland, he quickly reversed course and thrust his tool back down my throat. Setting a ferocious rhythm, Jake began to fuck my mouth viciously, each down stroke reaching another millimeter closer to my stomach as his fat wand trained my virgin throat. Lucky for me, his dick was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum, lubing my pipe as he explored new depths.

My jaw ached and my throat was raw, but the intense sexual energy flowing through my body was incredible. I cupped his firm butt cheeks in my hands and pulling hard I helped him drill my throat with reckless abandon. As his balls bounced off my chin, I knew he had achieved maximum penetration.

“Fuck that feels good,” Jake moaned. “Few bitches, man or woman, have ever throated my entire length.”

A sense of pride welled inside me. What a feeling of accomplishment. Mountaineers climb mountains because they are there. I had climbed Jake’s mountain and now I was addicted. No doubt in my mind, a dick like Jake’s could turn even the most straight-laced, up-tight, frigid sex hater into a raging nymphomaniac.

Withdrawing his cock from my throat, he teased, “I can save it for your wife.”

“Fuck her,” I moaned, “No way she could handle that monster. Give it to me.”

“Beg for it you little slut,” Jake continued. “Tell me how bad you want to suck my cock.”

Overcome with lust, I needed his dick back down my throat, “Please Jake, don’t tease me. Fuck my mouth you big stud. Teach me about man sex. I need your tool stuffed back down my throat.”

“Typical,” Jake replied. “Blame your problems on your wife’s pussy. It’s obvious you have far deeper concerns. Lucky for you, my cock is long enough to probe your deepest issues and unlock your pent up sexual frustrations.”

With that, Jake the psychologist crammed his fuckstick back down my eager throat, his rod filling my thirsty mouth. I opened wide, sticking my tongue out to lick his low hanging sweaty balls as he thrust deeply down my horny pipe.

“Take out your little dick Curt,” Jake ordered. “Stroke your teenie-weenie while you deep throat my big cock.”

Pulling down my shorts, I yanked out my dick and stroked it rapidly. My cock was incredibly hard, yet it felt like a toothpick in my hand compared to the throat missile abusing my mouth.

Again Jake withdrew his pecker, “Stand up and take off your clothes,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, I stripped naked. As I pulled my shirt over my head, Jake stroked his boner, “Damn you have a tight little body.”

“Th-th-thanks,” I stuttered. “Glad you like it.”

He turned away from me and bending over, stripped his swim trunks off, revealing his muscled buns. “Rim my hole you little cunt,” he ordered. “And don’t ignore my balls.”

The thought of licking his ass repulsed me, but I couldn’t resist this big sexy bastard. I wanted to please him, primarily to ensure he would keep feeding me his glorious cock.

Bending to the task, I snaked my tongue between his cheeks and tasted the raw nastiness of his poop chute.

“Yea honey,” he cooed, “Tongue fuck my ass. Eat my man pussy.”

I alternated between licking his ball sack and tonguing his backdoor, periodically reaching between his legs to stroke his still raging boner.

“How does that taste, Curt?” Jake chuckled. “Can’t be any worse than your wife’s snatch.”

He was right. During our college days, I had eaten-out my wife primarily to guilt her into sucking my cock. I didn’t enjoy it, but I figured the return was worth the investment. I was happy to eat Jake’s shitter not because I wanted anything in return, but because I wanted to please this stud. Actually I did want something in return; his cock down my throat.

“You are a great student, Curt,” Jake encouraged. “I would swear you’re are a card carrying faggot the way you attack that bunghole. You keep that up and I am going to blow one mighty big load.”

“Please cum in my mouth,” I whimpered. “I want to taste your spunk.”

Laughing, Jake spun around and offered his dick for my taking, “You’re gonna get every drop, sweetie.”

He shoved his cock back down my throat and screamed, “Stick your finger in my well-lubed hole you little pussy.”

As he fucked my mouth with long, deep strokes, I pushed my index finger past his tight sphincter and screwed his hole knuckle deep.

“Grab my balls,” Jake demanded. “Can you feel the jizz boiling in my nuts?”

With his cock buried in my gullet, I could only nod, as I felt the warm spooge building to climax deep in his testicles.

As he grabbed my ears and thrust his cock fully down my throat he moaned, “I’m gonna fill your hole with my salty spunk, bitch. Arghhhhhhhh!!!”

As he howled at the full moon, I felt a warm, sharp explosion down my throat, his cock erupting torrents of cum.

“Fuck that feels great,” he screamed.

I swallowed as much as I could, forcing his cock from my throat as I choked on his massive load. As his cock emerged from my mouth, several long sticky ropes of cream shot across my face, stinging my eyes and lodging in my hair. I stroked his still jerking rod, milking the last few drops of spunk from his massive spicket, catching all on my eager tongue.

“Your cum is delicious,” I purred, wiping the excess from my face and hair and licking the remnants from my fingers, unwilling to release Jake’s slowly softening tool from my grasp.

“Jerk your dick, Curt,” Jake ordered. “Shoot your load for me.”

Stunned, I realized I had completely ignored my own boner. I was so enthralled with Jake’s cock, I had forgotten about my own pleasure.

With a few quick jerks, my cock started to twitch.

“Cum on my hiking boots,” Jake ordered.

Lining up my dick, I erupted, my knees weakening as powerful shots of jizz coated Jake’s boots, the incredible sexual tension in my body melting away.

“Lick them clean, Curt,” Jake orderd. “Show me what a cum slut you are.”

Only to happy to oblige, I bent to the task and tongued my sperm from his dirty boots, smacking my lips, the salty treat mingling with Jake’s recent deposit.

“That’s fucking hot, Curt,” Jake moaned. “I can’t wait to fill your other end with my hot spunk,” he whispered as he began to stroke his still semi-hard dick.

Holy shit, I thought, a sudden flash of fear pulsing through my mind. I was head over fucking heals in love with Jake’s big cock, but no way in hell I could handle that big fucker up my ass. He would split me in two, causing irreparable damage.

“Umm, I, well, yeaaaa, you see….” I stuttered, unable to broach the topic of his butt weapon.

“Don’t be a sissy,” Jake snapped, slapping my face with his rapidly hardening dick. “I’m gonna make your ass sing and before its over, you’ll be my little butt slut.”

I started to shake, sure that my ass was incapable of accommodating his huge cock. At the same moment, feelings of guilt and shame washed over my body. What had I done? I had never cheated on my wife before.

“Uhhh, sorry, Jake,” I stammered, as I grabbed my discarded clothes and headed out of his camp, “I think this was a bad idea.”

Falling back into his hammock, his strong hand wrapped around his impressive tool, Jake laughed loudly, “Oh, you’ll be back, Curt. You will be back.”

As I retreated, stumbling back toward my campsite, I heard Jake’s deep voice echoing across the peaceful lake, “You will be begging for more, my little closet queer!!!”

I crawled into my tent and zipped up my bag, tossing and turning as I tried to fall asleep. I’m not a fag, I repeated, over and over. It was just the Scotch and the high mountain air.

But as I finally drifted off to sleep, visions of Jakes incredible schlong danced in my head and my cock involuntarily twitched in my sleeping bag.

Exhausted from the hike and the oral Olympics, I slept through the night and awoke at daybreak with a throbbing woody, memories of the night before more vivid than any wet dream. As I lay in bed and stroked my hard cock, still tasting Jake’s salty spunk on my tongue, I realized what an idiot I had been the night before. Embarrassed and ashamed, I had tucked my tail between my legs and run away. I couldn’t get the picture of Jake’s huge boner out of my mind, and the more I tried to forget about his cock, the more I wondered what that big fucker would feel like stuffed up my virgin ass.

Emerging from the tent, I made up my mind – I was going to crawl back to Jake’s campsite this morning and beg him to fuck my ass. And I wanted him to show no mercy. I had been a typical fucking cunt the night before, teasing him with my mouth and refusing to “seal the deal”. It might hurt at first, but god would it hurt so good. I deserved a rabid butt fucking and who better than Jake and his incredible snake.

As I crested the hill between our campsites, my heart sank. His hammock was gone; so was his backpack and any trace of his being there. Damn. The fucker had packed up and headed out.

I freaked out. I wanted, no, I needed his dick and I needed it bad. I had fucked up royally. My mind spinning, I tried to follow his tracks. He had headed toward the north end of the lake, the opposite direction from my car, but I lost all trace of his trail at the rock fall that climbed to the pass above the lake. He could have gone any direction.

I returned to camp and packed up. I knew where he worked. I would drive to Colorado Springs and await his return, begging him to forgive me; begging him to train my ass to love his fat dick.

I practically sprinted back down the trail and arrived at the parking lot a little after noon. As I tossed my pack in the back of the SUV, I noted one other rig in the lot, a heavy duty four wheel drive pickup. Could it be Jakes?

The plates were from Colorado Springs and a bumper sticker advertised a rock climbing shop in town. Peering through the windows, a big bottle of Wet Lube rested in the cup holder; that big dicked fucker was well prepared. It had to be Jake’s truck. A wicked smile spreading across my face, I decided to pitch camp and wait for him to return. I had to formulate some kind of apology, but I assumed my virgin ass was all the apology Jake would really need.

He didn’t return that day, so I tossed my sleeping bag in the bed of his truck, crashing for the night; no way was I going to let him slip past before sunup.

I awoke at dawn to a loud bang, the tailgate of the truck jarring me out of a peaceful sleep.

“Boy what a surprise,” Jake chuckled, clearly full of sarcasm. “Can I help you?”

I had rehearsed this meeting, but seeing Jake, a light sweat coating his face, his heavy pack biting into his bare shoulders, I could only sigh. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

“Sorry about what?” Jake continued as he removed his backpack and took off his sweaty tank top, his pierced nipple glistening in the early morning sun.

“Sorry about the way the other night ended,” I began. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your incredible cock. I made a huge mistake. And frankly, I was a bitch. I don’t know if I can take your dick up my ass, but damn if I don’t want to give it my best shot.”