Firstly, I must apologise to you, dear reader, for remaining anonymous, but the story I am about to relate could place my very long marriage to a trusting and devoted wife in jeopardy. The reason I am confessing this now is, I suppose, part of a soul-cleansing exercise on my part and also in the hope that some of you, who may have enjoyed a similar experience, will be able to offer advice on how I should deal with it. I can only hope that in reading this you find it as enjoyable in your imagination as the reality was for me and for any ladies reading it, I ask you to be understanding and to appreciate my helpless position.
The main story itself has little to do with fishing except that is where it begins. It was a typical autumn evening when I commenced fishing with my usual method of luncheon meat pursuing the barbel of my favourite river. I am privileged to enjoy a private spot off the lawns of a local hotel where quests often pass by and spend a little time chatting. However, most sane people on this particular evening were indoors with a warm drink. THE MARK I thought I had taken everything I needed with me, a comfortable padded chair, a flask of coffee, a fleece top and waterproof jacket to cut the chill out of the breeze if nothing else. What I had left behind was my over-trousers and it seemed inappropriate to be wearing thermal long-johns just yet. The evening turned quickly into night and I was on about the fourth cast with a large feeder of hemp and the aforementioned luncheon meat hair-rigged on a size 4 hook, but still nothing was making any violent attacks on my bait. The only feeling I had through the rod tip was of a slight pluck-pluck of a suspected chub gingerly mouthing the morsel. I remembered that a blind friend of mine once said that when you lose your eyesight your other senses do make up for it. So after the fifth cast I picked up the spare line with my fingers until it was tight to the feeder and closed my eyes and settled myself back in the chair. Sure enough the pluck-pluck and every other ripple and judder of the line seemed exaggerated and each told its own story. I have also started to use braid as well, which as most of you know, is like having a telephone line direct to your hook. This day had been long, though, and after laying a concrete path in the afternoon I was feeling very tired and at times felt myself drifting away into micro-sleep (40 winks, as you might say). THE HOOK My legs were getting colder and I was beginning to think of packing up and going home when a voice from behind asked had I caught anything. I replied “No.” as I turned to see who had asked the question only to be greeted by a very elegant looking woman in her very early forties, I supposed, fairish hair and wearing a dress of printed chiffon just below the knee. She didn’t have a skinny physique either, but more what the newspapers, especially The Star, would term voluptuous. Very nice, I thought and the outline of all this could clearly be seen in silhouette through her dress against one of the security lights in the background. In fact, I was scared of drawing her attention to this phenomenon as I was enjoying the view so much. Whilst struggling with the image in my mind I tried to find answers to her other questions such as spending much time there and catching many fish, etc, until she asked if I too was feeling the cold night air. I confessed that it did seem to be colder than I had anticipated and that the old legs were getting a little stiff (not to mention certain other parts!). She asked if a warming drink would be welcome and as she was going back to her warm room offered me the choice from her hotel drinks cabinet. Well, of course it would be welcome and then she pointed out that her bedroom was at ground level in the hotel’s new extension and she suggested that I join her by climbing over the small balcony. By now I was imagining all manner of possibilities and I felt that I was being drawn in like a moth to a candle. I gratefully accepted, thinking that if things got completely out of hand I could always extricate myself before it all got too hot. She said she would return to her bedroom by the usual entrance door and then open the balcony door to allow me in, then she disappeared. I packed away my rod, chair, landing net, shoulder bag and walked over to the car, just beyond what would be her bedroom, and threw everything in. As I came back the light was on in her bedroom and her balcony door had been opened as she promised and she was beckoning from inside. I clambered over the railing and walked into the warm atmosphere afforded by the central heating. This was the first time in two hours that I’d felt warm and I voluntarily removed my shoes (to avoid dirtying the beige carpet) along with my jacket and fleece. She delved into the drinks cabinet to find two miniatures of Cointreau (a sexy drink if ever there was one) and poured them into two small tumblers and adding a little ice. The drink had an immediate effect on me as she explained that it may have been silly to have ventured outside on such a cold evening, but meeting someone ‘attractive’ like me was a real reward. I was indeed flattered by her remark, coming from a lady who appeared even more beautiful in the subdued light of her bedroom than she had outside. THE TALE She explained that she was from Leeds, a place I knew reasonably well as I had worked there briefly some years ago, and she had been attending a course on marketing at a nearby college. The talk was general with little hints here and there of a flirtatious nature, nothing stark, but enough to leave little to the imagination. I guessed she was probably married, but feeling a little lonely and because of the opportunity, more than a little daring. I suddenly felt as if I knew what was coming next, but by this time I really no longer cared too much. She was really good looking, warm, very sensual and at my time of life you don’t look gift horses in the mouth.
I finished my drink and got up to leave in an honourable exit, but before I could make it to the door she moved towards me, begged me not to leave and pressed her body against mine. She then asked the inevitable question, did I want to make love to her? My mind was in turmoil. I knew I shouldn’t, but then those unstoppable emotions were stirring within me and I felt that I just couldn’t resist any longer. It was futile. She placed her hand around my waist and drew me even closer towards her until my head was buried in her neck, my nostrils filled with the heady perfume exuding from behind her small and delicate ear. Women know the exact spots where to put perfume and I was hooked! THE STING She said she was going to the bathroom to prepare herself and I agreed not to run off. I could have lied to her and made a bolt for the door nevertheless, but these opportunities come along only once in a lifetime to chaps like me and I felt that this was one I had to see through. When she reappeared she was wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs and her bra, her hair looked immaculate as it rested on her shoulders. Again she approached me and placed her arms around me, only this time much slower than before, more deliberate and far more caressing. We kissed and she started to undo the buttons of my shirt and the belt from my trousers, both eventually fell to the floor. We stood there for a while kissing and holding each other’s semi-naked forms and I could see she was getting warmer by a reddish blotchiness on her chest as many women get when they are sexually aroused in this way. I popped the hooks on the back of her bra and it joined my shirt and trousers. There was definitely no turning back now. I felt her round, ripe fullness pressing against me as she started pulling me over to the king sized double bed and as our legs touched the edge she forced me to join her in the final fall towards the sheets. It seemed to take forever for our joined bodies to travel that short distance through the air, but just at that precise point of landing on the bed I fell off my bloody chair and woke up! |
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