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The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations where it is legal. If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work. Reposting or
any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written
permission of the copyright holder, except may be posted as part
of a review or posted to free-access, noncommercial archive
sites.
Copyright 1999 by E. Z. Riter.
E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
Please! Give me your comments!
Dear Reader: This is a romance of sorts, possibly humorous,
definitely vanilla, except for multiple adulteries. All
characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
:-) E.Z.
REEL MEN
Their voices carried down the hall from the family room to the
kitchen.
"Damn! This'll be our fourteenth straight weekend of fishing,"
Joe Bob said excitedly.
His wife Molly looked at me across the kitchen table. There was
a warm twinkle in her eye.
Another man's voice said, "Chuck, is your brother a queer?"
"Jesus Christ, keep your fucking voice down. The women can hear
you," Chuck replied amid the snickers from the others.
My brother wasn't speaking to Jesus, of course. He was speaking
to Junior, one of his good- ole'-boy fishing buddies.
"Well, shit. He acts queer."
"He just doesn't like to fish."
"That's what I mean. Any man who don't fish ain't a real man."
I heard the whoops and Chuck's heavy footsteps before he slammed
the door leading down the hall.
"My signal to leave," Molly said, pushing back from the kitchen
table.
"Me, too," Bessie chimed in. "Can we do anything before we go?"
"Oh, no. It's all done," Abby replied as she stood. "Penny's
staying over. She doesn't want to be alone while the guys are
gone. Jamie'll be here this weekend. He'll keep us company and
babysit tomorrow while we shop."
Molly and Bessie each kissed me on the cheek, then went to the
family room to say goodbye to their husbands. Abby saw her guests
out. Penny sat at the table with me. She was the new woman in
the group because her husband was the new fisherman in the club.
Penny was twenty, although Junior was thirty-two, the same as
Chuck. She was average in size and shape. She had two
distinguishing features. She was very quiet. And she was seven
months pregnant.
Junior wasn't the first of Chuck's friends to find humor at my
expense. Chuck could have put an end to it if he wanted to. But
he didn't. Chuck didn't think of me as one of the guys.
Whatever he did for me was because I was his half-brother and, on
her deathbed, Mother asked him to watch out for me.
He and I are not alike. Chuck's seven years older. He's a big,
burly, outdoor type who owns a construction company. I'm shorter
and slightly built. Chuck employs me as his office manager while
I get my master's degree. His face would be called ruggedly
masculine. My face is pretty. Not handsome. Pretty.
To top it off, there are our names. He's Chuck. It's short,
strong. I'm Jamie. Mother named me James William. Nobody calls
me that. They don't call me James or Jim or even Jimmy. It's
Jamie. It's always been Jamie.
"Baby, we're leaving," Junior shouted from the doorway. Penny
arduously stood to go kiss him goodbye. Shortly, she returned
with Abby.
I like Abby. She's Chuck's age. They've been married ten years
and have two children. She's a good woman, with a ready smile
and a warm heart. She understands Chuck and his friends. She
loves him in spite of his faults, or, perhaps, because of them.
"Ask him yourself," Abby said to Penny as they reentered the
room.
"Ask me what?" I said.
Penny turned beet red again. She couldn't look at me.
"What is it, Penny?" I said.
"Jamie, are you, I mean, well . . . "
"Am I what?"
"Are you a queer?"
"That's not a nice word, Penny. Homosexuals prefer to be called
gay."
"I'm sorry," she gushed as she flashed red again. "I didn't mean
anything bad by it."
"No offense taken. Sit here and we can talk," I said, pulling a
chair back from the table.
Abby'd been watching with an amused smile. When Penny hesitated,
she gently pushed her toward the chair.
"Sit and talk with him, Penny. He's interesting. Have you ever
talked to a man before?"
"Not really. Junior's not much for talk unless it's about his
hobbies. My daddy's the same way," she said as she lowered
herself into the chair.
"Jamie's a good talker. Talk to him. Talk all night if you like.
I'm going to get ready for bed."
It took awhile before Penny came out of her shell. Once she got
started, Penny herself was quite a talker. When Abby returned in
her nightshirt, she saw we were engrossed. She excused herself
and went to bed. We talked about everything except my sexuality.
Penny didn't want to hurt me by asking. There was a warm and
very sweet woman inside her. It was a pleasure to see her come
alive.
Time flew and it got very late. Penny was yawning. This yawn
was a big one she didn't even try to stifle. She stretched and
rubbed her back, trying to reach the lower part of her spine.
"Backache?" I asked.
"Yes. My momma says the worst part of being pregnant's the
backaches. They're even worse than the delivery because they
last longer."
"I'll rub it for you," I said.
She froze to stare at me. I imagined the wheels spinning in her
brain. Finally, she smiled.
"Well, since it's you, I guess it's all right," she said.
I waited outside the guest bedroom until she called me to come
in. She wore a thick cotton nightgown, which came to her knees.
It fit tightly across her bloated stomach.
"You look beautiful," I said.
"No, I don't. I'm ugly," she snapped. She turned red, looking
away shyly. "But it's nice of you to say."
"You're beautiful. What makes you think you're not?"
"Pregnant women are ugly. That's what Junior says." Her tone
indicated a sureness of knowledge, as if quoting the Gospel
according to Junior.
"Junior's wrong. Pregnant women are beautiful. You're
beautiful. You're a beautiful flower about to bloom."
Her tender face told me what I'd said pleased her, but she didn't
believe it. She gave me that shy smile again. "Come rub my
back, Jamie," she said.
She lay on her side with her back to me. I began to rub through
the cotton of her nightgown. She was quiet as I worked the lower
part of her spine.
"I've never met a man like you before," she said quietly. "Who
thinks I'm beautiful. Who likes talking to me. A man who likes
me."
"Junior likes you, doesn't he?"
"He likes what I do for him, I think. He's never said. I don't
really know if he likes me. You know what I mean?"
"I understand. I like you, Penny. And, I like talking to you.
You're a lovely woman."
She sighed. It was almost a sob.
"Say, this backrub'll feel a lot better if I get some lotion and
rub your bare back," I said.
She hesitated the longest time before saying, "All right."
When I returned with the lotion, she was on her side again and
the nightgown was gone. She was wearing a bra and panties. I
started at the base of her spine. Her tension and pain were
evident. Gradually, her muscles loosened. I slowly worked my
way up her back. As I massaged, we talked intermittently. A
question from her, or a short comment. An answer from me. Little
pieces of conversation.
She tensed when I undid her bra. The soothing effects of my hands
on her upper back quickly banished that tension. I did her
shoulders and neck.
"That feels so good," she murmured. She sounded relaxed and
tired. "My back doesn't ache for the first time in days."
"I'm glad, Penny. Roll over and I'll do your legs."
She rolled over. One hand kept her bra in place. I spent a lot
of time on her right foot. Slowly and thoroughly, I worked my
way up her leg. When I looked at her face again, her head was
propped on her hand. She was watching me over her stomach. Her
eyes were puffy; her lids were heavy. The right corner of her
lips twitched and turned up.
"You're a very sweet man, Jamie. The sweetest man I ever met."
I smiled in response, but didn't reply. She wasn't finished
talking yet.
"But - you're not gay, are you?"
"No," I answered.
The other corner twitched and she smiled.
"Good," she whispered.
She slipped off her bra and dropped it to the floor. Her nipples
were dusky pink and erect.
I didn't change the rhythm of the massage. I continued slowly.
There was a mother's loving, passive softness to her face when I
gently rubbed her stomach with lotion, working it into her skin.
Twice I felt movement of the little body inside her. I wondered
if Junior ever took that pleasure.
Her eyes closed and she groaned when I massaged her breasts. She
lifted her hips willingly when I tugged on her panties. I
reached for the lotion.
"I've had enough massage, Jamie," she said very softly.
I undressed and lay down by her. I slid under her legs to let us
form a T.
"Junior says the man's always on top. I should'a known that'd be
different, too."
I snugged my cock head between the lips of her sex. Her eyes
opened widely when I stopped. I kissed the palm of her hand.
She smiled and tightened her legs, drawing me into her. Her eyes
never left mine. Her smile never ceased. We were slow and
gentle. I was surprised how quickly she orgasmed. Her second
orgasm hit her. Her face was indeed beautiful as she squeezed my
hand. Her eyes started to close in sleep. I slipped out of her,
still hard and unfulfilled.
"I'm sorry you didn't cum. I'll make it up to you next time. I
promise," she whispered.
"Don't worry about it. I loved it," I replied. I kissed her lips
gently.
"Me, too. You're magnificent," she said as she drifted off.
I gathered my clothes and quietly eased out of the room. I
opened the door down the hall. In the dark, I found the bed and
climbed into it.
She pressed against me. Her nipples were hot diamond points
against my chest. Her hand seized my cock.
"Oh, good! You're still hard!"
"I'm surprised you're awake," I said as my hand caressed the
cheek of her ass.
"I couldn't sleep. I masturbated thinking about you two and that
just made me hornier. I need a long, hard fucking."
"Be quiet, woman, and get on your back," I said in a pompous
baritone.
She laughed bawdily as she rolled over and pulled me between her
legs.
"What will we wives do if you decide to become a ‘real man' and
take up fishing?"
The End
Please! Give me your comments!
E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
--
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are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
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