Chapter 3

“This is good,” came Sam’s muffled words, issuing from a mouth full of fried pike.

“Now you know why none of what I catch ever makes it home,” I said.

“I’m glad I came,” she said. “It must get boring if you do this by yourself, though.”

“Not for me,” I said. “It’s quiet and peaceful.” I shot her a look. “Usually, that is.”

She just grinned.

“I’m sleeping with you again tonight.”

I groaned.

“Don’t be such a goofball. It will be just like last night. We’ll be warm, but nothing will happen.”

“Oh, I know that,” I said. “And that’s the problem. This is all fun and games for you, Sam, but did you ever think of how I might feel about it?”

“Oh, I know how you feel about it,” she said, her voice full of very adult innuendo. “You haven’t been on a date since Cathy died, have you?”

“No,” I confirmed.

“And you don’t go out and hire prostitutes, right?”

“Of course not!” I barked.

“Well, then, you’ve been going without sex for a long time, and it doesn’t look like it killed you.”

“That’s not the point,” I said.

She got a shocked look on her face, but I could tell it was contrived.

“Wait! I get it. You haven’t gone without sex ... you just only had sex with yourself!”

“Sam!” I yelled.

“Hey, it’s no big deal. Everybody does it. According to Miss Simpson, my health teacher, it’s a normal method of dealing with sexual stress.” She put a finger to her lips and went “Shhhh. Nobody’s supposed to know she said that. She said she might get fired if anybody finds out.”

I was still trying to process the idea that Sam not only knew I probably masturbated, but that it sounded like maybe she did, too. This was blowing my mind.

“Then she shouldn’t have said it,” some part of my brain made me say.

“It was just with the girls,” said Sam. “She said we shouldn’t feel guilty about doing it if it was an alternative to messing around with boys.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I sighed. It was true. I really didn’t have any clue as to how to proceed. Sam had been my best friend for a while, and suddenly it was like I found out she had three eyes, or tentacles. We’d never talked about sex before. I hadn’t thought she was interested in it, or that if she was, she was the one who would bring it up.

I blinked.

She had brought it up, in a manner of speaking. Granted, that had been a result of her accident, but she was approaching this with the same casual abandon that was there with everything else we ever discussed.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she said. “Just let me sleep with you and be warm.”

My brain got going again. This was Sam. We were buds. She didn’t want to have sex. She was just exploring new territory.

“How about if we wore underwear?” I suggested.

She gave me a stare.

“That sort of defeats the point, and anyway, you said we should sleep nude out here,” she said.

Doubts assailed me. Just a few seconds ago I thought I knew what she wanted. But did I?

“What, exactly, to you want to get out of this?” I asked.

Finally she had to stop and think.

“I don’t think I can explain it,” she said. “It just feels so good.”

“Did you get horny last night?” I asked, bluntly.

There was no hesitation whatsoever.

“Ohhhh yeah,” she sighed.

I looked at her for ten or so seconds.

“I did, too, Sam,” I said, seriously.

“Duh,” she said. “Boner?”

“You’ve had the class, Sam. You know why it got that way and what I wanted to do with it.”

“You mentioned that before,” she said. “Do you really want me to have your baby?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “But my body doesn’t know that, and I have hormones in my blood, too. Things get out of control, sometimes.”

“Well, if you don’t want to do that, and I don’t want you to do that, it seems to me nothing could get out of control.”

“How many teenage girls do you know who decided to get pregnant?” I asked.

“None,” she said.

“And yet that happens all too often,” I said.

“Yes, but in those cases, the guy did want to do that. He didn’t try to resist, like you are.”

“Sam,” I groaned. “A part of me wants to have sex with you! We can’t just get naked and sleep together!”

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “If things get too bad you can jerk off and relieve the stress. I won’t mind.”

“Who are you?” I whined. “What planet do you come from and what did you do with Sam?”

“If you want, you can do that before we get in bed,” said Sam, helpfully. “And if you’re shy about it, I can put my ear buds in and read or something while you do it.” She frowned. “Though, to tell the truth, I would like to watch, if that would be okay. I mean where else could I get to see something so rad?”

It was more than I could take. I put the hood of my parka over my head and buttoned the neck. I went outside to take a walk. It was just dark enough that the stars were beginning to populate the sky. I could see a couple of other ice huts in the distance. I wondered what was going on in them. Was there some other poor schmuck over there being seduced by a winsome teenage girl?

I kicked a knob of ice with my boot. Sam wasn’t trying to seduce me. She’d just gone from being sixteen one day to twenty-two the next. Falling through the ice had aged her half a decade. She’d confronted her mortality, or some such thing, and it had banished some of her inhibitions.

I thought about jerking off. But it was too fucking cold. Besides, with all the clothing I had on, it would be virtually impossible to reach things properly. And I wasn’t hard just then. It seemed pretty stupid to try to get hard, so I could jerk off in order not to be hard. And let’s face it. I wasn’t supposed to be getting hard in the first place.

I decided to go back and lay down the law. There would be two bags this night. Separate bags. There would be no warm, female hand gripping my dripping penis. I’d take a towel into my sleeping bag with me, where I could jerk off in comfort and warmth.

Whatever she did in her bag would be her business.

I stomped back to the tent, unzipped it, and stepped inside. The lantern was lit, but turned down low. It was probably twenty degrees warmer in the tent. I opened my mouth to issue orders, as my eyes scanned the interior to find her.

She was already in the still-zipped-together sleeping bags. Her shoulders were bare and her hair fanned out on a pillow under her head. Her arms lay outside the bag, on her stomach. She was obviously naked under the bright colors of the sleeping bag fabric.

“Turn out the light when you come to bed,” she said. “Don’t be too long. I’m already chilly.”

I had a job when I was in college as a dishwasher in the dining facility. People brought me trays and I put the dishes in racks, which I then sent through the big, industrial dishwasher. My boss wanted things done in a particular way. I thought the system could be improved, to be more efficient. He said efficiency wasn’t the goal. Getting the dishes clean was the goal. It was like beating my head against a stone wall and, eventually, I just gave up. I didn’t have it in me to fight with this person anymore.

That sense of defeat revisited me that night. I just gave up. I knew that if I ordered her out of the bag, she wouldn’t obey. I knew I could never get those bags separated, and her in one and me in the other, and that even if I managed to get that far, I knew she’d never let me sleep. She’d complain and whine and moan and groan. The only thing I could do was make sure she knew how pissed off I was with her.

“I should never have brought you ice fishing,” I said.

“Yes you should,” she said, her feelings unaffected. “Someday you’ll be glad you did.”

Now what the fuck did that mean?

It didn’t matter. I was tired, not physically, but mentally. For about ten seconds I thought about just lying down next to her fully clothed, and getting under my half of the sleeping bag. But I knew that wouldn’t work. I’d be both uncomfortable and cold all night.

When I finally got in the bag with her ... naked ... I was surprised by two things. The first was that my penis was still just as soft as soft could be. The other was her “Thank you” as she wrapped her arms around me and rubbed her body up against mine.

I suppose it was no surprise that, within ten seconds, my penis was as hard as hard could be.

“What are you doing?” I asked, about ten minutes later. She’d been pressing her hot lips against my shoulder for brief, two second little kisses.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Nothing.”

She kissed my shoulder again.

She wiggled, laying one leg over me. It put her pussy in contact with my hip. She humped, gently.

“Sam, if you’re going to masturbate, please don’t do it on my thigh,” I said.

She rolled away from me suddenly.

“Okay,” she said. She didn’t sound unhappy at all. I felt her hand, holding something, reach to my chest. “Here,” she said.

“What’s this?” I asked, reaching to feel a ball of cloth where she’d left it.

“I brought a sock in here for you,” she said.

“A sock?”

“I heard somewhere that guys like to use a sock when they jerk off, so there’s no mess.”

“I’m not going to jerk off, Sam,” I growled.

She rolled back toward me and her hand reached, as if guided by radar or something, to grip my boner.

“You should,” she said, squeezing my cock. “You’d probably feel better.”

“I would not feel better!” I almost yelled.

“Suit yourself. Be back in a little while.”

She rolled away from me again. Her elbow bumped mine and started moving. It was obvious the hand at the end of that elbow was between her legs.

“Mmmmm,” came from her throat.

“Sam,” I pleaded.

“You’re the one who said I should do this,” she said. “Now, be quiet so I can finish.”

What would you do? I wasn’t set up to deal with this situation. Maybe if I’d had time to plan, or prepare, things would have been different. So what would you have done?

I’ll tell you what I did.

I grabbed my cock and jerked it until I soiled that fucking sock. That’s what I did.

And right next to me Samantha rubbed out what sounded like a really good one.

Then she rolled back to wrap her arms around me.

I fell asleep with her wet pussy against my thigh.

At least she wasn’t humping me with it.

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Ice Fishing With the Twins

Lubrican

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