No other event during the year, not Christmas, nor holidays, not birthdays, nothing compares to my few hours drifting down this creek. All my family m...tters, work, my worries and fears, everything disappears. It’s just me, nature, the creek and the brown trout within. The creek itself is not spectacular, the section I travel is in the upper reaches. Even the fishing isn’t particularly good. The eight miles or so that I glide down runs through farm country, then eventually drains into the Great. Harold couldn’t hide the fact that he was twitching. Nor would I let him. But I realized later that the talk of anal sex had put him a bit off the pace. As much as he fantasized about doing it again in a girl’s fanny, with his reduced stamina he was afraid that for him, anal sex was as much history as my periods. But when I saw him sitting there looking uncomfortable, it was mostly for the usual reason.So far, Harold has not yet shown a desire to put his prick in my anus. But he. More

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