August 15th

Again, a guy and a futanari girl having sex. Expect him to get it up the ass. If you don't like it, don't read it.

This is back to the present, age 22.

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Every year for the last decade, we had come to the same campsite, by the same lake. Every time they would go, they would always, at least once, do the same thing.



“Ugh, it’s so boring!” Nevada whined, still clad in the green bikini while she sat on a rock next to me. In her arms was a pole, and she was swaying it back and forth in her hands.



Fishing was never an exciting pastime. The simple joy in the quiet day, the shining lake and maybe catching a fish or two for dinner was a pleasant and serene hobby to have. A perfectly acceptable way to spend a few hours on a summer afternoon.



But Nevada saw the same summer day, with the cool water, the warm sun, the daylight as a time to go and do something. She wanted to hike in the woods, go swimming, or if the mood hit her, have sex in broad daylight. Every day she woke up with energy to spend, and it wouldn’t be spent sitting here watching a fishing line. “Boring.”



It annoyed me when she’d complain so vocally whenever we did something that didn’t involve either a forced march through the woods or sex, especially if it was something to allow me to catch a breath between adventures into the woods or with each other’s bodies. Although when I snuck a glance at her again, seeing her fine feminine form and thinking of all the things we’ve done to each other, it’s certainly an annoyance I can handle.



“Heaven forbid we relax for a few hours. Have a whole lifetime to do stuff, got to stop and smell the flowers.” I shrugged. “Or something like that.”



She chortled. “Hah, you just want to catch that fish I hit you with. It was six years ago. It’s not healthy to hold a grudge against a fish.” Her head shook in disapproval. “Let it go.”



A switch was flipped in my being, or maybe it was just a small flame fed some gasoline. I grinded my teeth as she spoke. “That fucking fish!” For years afterwards, a little part of my cheek still stung and smelled of fish. My fishing rod trembled with rage as my clenched my hands tightly around the rod. “I’ll find you, you little fucker and feast upon your flesh!”



“It’s probably dead by now.”



“No. Rainbow trout can live up to 11 years and they can spawn multiple times.” I narrowed my eyes into a glare as I stared out into the lake. “He lives.” As I reeled in my line, I mouthed a curse at the damned fish. “He lives…”



“Sure Captain Ahab, sure.” Nevada likely rolled her eyes.



Disregarding her verbal jab, I cast my line into the water again. My mouth watered with the thought of deboning, cooking that trout and the sweet, sweet, fishy taste of revenge. I am Man, I made the Hoover Dam, Liberalism and pizza. Among my kind are greats like Aristotle, Clint Eastwood and the Mario Brothers. This trout is just a dumb fish with no concept of land based life forms. I will devour him only after crushing all his hopes and dreams of being a fish.



“Hey Aaron.”



“What?” I said with my glare still burning into the lake. Maybe I’ll get heat vision and boil the lake.



“Aaron.”



“Wha-?“ I turned to her. “…fuck.”



She had taken the bottom of her bikini off, and she was erect.



A few years ago, when we were camping, we started a game. It was kinda like the circle game, where you make your fingers into a circle, hold it beneath your waist and if the other person saw it, you got to hit them. Our game was a little different. We’d do the same thing, except we’d get the other person to look at our erect penis, and then we would do something, depending on how many times we succeeded that day. First time would be a handjob, twice would be a blowjob, a third time would be they get to fuck the other person, a fourth would be anal, five and over would be their choice. (Due to me being a guy and lacking a pussy, she’d give a reach around on the third time while she fucked me.) We only played for that one week as by the end, we were completely and utterly exhausted. Even her previously thought to be inexhaustible energy and sex drive where wholly drained.



In this case though, this was her main dish for winning the game of rock, paper, scissors earlier today. Winning a game means not only does the loser has to suck off the winner, but also get fucked. I have studied her moves when playing rock, paper, scissors so carefully because my ass literally depends on it.



Now that I think about it, I should probably stop playing these games altogether with her.



It twitched. “C’mon, she and I don’t have all day.” It twitched like it was enthusiastic waving an arm, beckoning me.



“All right, all right.” I said reluctantly. “Just let me reel my line in.” I started to turn the handle of the fishing reel, but Nevada stopped me with her hand.



“No, I wouldn’t dare to thwart your revenge against the accursed Moby Trout.” She taunted me, before gesturing downward with her head. “Just change seats.”



I removed a hand from my rod, and pointed at her, my mouth ready to speak.



…only to be stopped by her as she held the bottle of lube up and swayed it gently.



Why is it that she always remembers lube? She never remembers her snack when we go hiking and always takes a part of mine. “Fine, I can’t weasel my way out of it.” I stood up, holding my fishing pole. “C-could you?”



She already had beaten me to the punch, pulling down my shorts. Fingers dripping with lube probed and massaged within me with expert skill and knowledge. She had only been doing this fairly regularly for years, there may not be another non-proctologist woman in the whole state that knows a man’s anus so well.



Yes, it was embarrassing to think that, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t start to really enjoy it. It’s just that she has a lot of energy, it takes a lot to sate her and she can be quite, quite vigorous when she’s held herself back for a long time. Anal sex is not something to do with recklessly, well, if you’re on the receiving end.



Her finger bent and pressed at just the right spot, and I instantly got an erection.



She laughed. “Ahh the prostrate…it’s the boner button!” She withdrew her fingers from me, and gently ran her fingers up and down her cock. “Have a seat.” Her hand patted softly onto her lap, making that satisfying slapping sound.



Although Nevada told me to ‘have a seat’ alluringly, she was more getting to the main course than letting me get comfortable. Her hands grabbed my hips and lowered myself onto her penis.



Years of being on the receiving end of her penis has made anal a lot easier than it used to be. (The same can be said of her and both receiving anal and vaginal sex.) With only minimal and oft-practiced effort on both of our parts, she slid herself into me.



In my ear from behind, she cooed. “Aah. Isn’t this nice?” Her soft breath tickled my ear. “The beautiful day, the big lake, the quiet around us…and my big dick up your ass.”



The feeling of being gently forced open and unable to close is something that can send a chill down my spine. It’s like stretching a leg or arm, but instead with your ass. It tries to close, to tense up again, but there’s no way for it to close. I rested on top of her hips, her breasts pressing against my back. But she sat still. “Nevada…?”



“Hah.” She whispered in my ear. “I want you to move by yourself. Can’t expect me to please you and do all the work myself. Be a man.” She took a certain pleasure in bringing up the fact I was a man when she had her penis in my ass.



With a deep breath, relaxing myself, I started to move. Slowly at first, but what sounds of pleasure that she let out now where not near the ones I liked to hear, so I gradually started to speed up.



Again, she let out a “Hah”, but unlike the last one, this was of pleasure. With my hands busy with the fishing pole, her hands had free reign over what she could do to me. Her right hand went down my side in a stroke before reaching under my t-shirt. The hand went up my shirt and stopped above my sternum, gently stroking the stripe of chest hair. The other hand went toward my cock and stroked it. It was almost like an inability to pat one’s head and rub their stomach at the same time thing.



I enjoyed myself as well, a handjob from a girl with a penis is a masterful handjob and she had a knack for hitting just the right spot in my bowels to get me moaning in ecstasy. My ass made a satisfying slapping sound on her hips.



Her arm pawing at my chest pulled me close and clutched me tightly. Her skilled hands moved quickly. The breathing and pants in my ear grew louder, and grew more passionate. Her cries of pleasure were music to me. There was a slight difference in the tone between her cries when she was getting sucked off and when she was on top.



My kingdom for a recording device to catch these cries!



I had known her long enough to know she was reaching her limits, and while I pondered if I was the only one to hear her cries of pleasure, two things quickly demanded my attention. Firstly, I was at my limits. Second, my fishing line was flying off of the reel, and there was a stinging sensation on my cheek. “Th-that fish!” Anger built in my gut, but feelings built up in my loins and from within my chest overwhelmed it. “Aah! I think, I think…”



“Me too…”



I came as she did. Her second load today was again released within me, one in each end. My body fell into a state of total relaxation, elation and ecstasy. Behind me, Nevada fell into the same state, her upper body resting against me. Lost momentarily in the pleasure of her cum, my cum and her cries, my fishing pole left my hand.



It took a few moments to collect myself again. When I became aware of my soundings besides the girl behind me and a little part of her within me, I saw my pole tumbling down to the lake shore. “Shit!” I yelled as I stood and ran and made a diving lunge for the rod’s handle, only to trip myself up. My pants remained around my ankles.



By the time I stood up again, my fishing pole disappeared into the water. The anger in my gut flared as I dropped to my knees and screamed to the sky. “DAMN YOU FISH! DAMN YOU TO HELL!”