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Winter in Wisconsin. For me there isn’t anything quite like it. Snow, ice, bitter cold winds. Man I miss home. Oh did I mention this IS home? I miss Wisconsin so much that I look forward to Christmas, not so much for the season as it’s one of two times each year that I head to the great north woods for some fun and relaxation. I make it a point to turn off my cell phone kick back and relax with some fishing and absolutely no work.
Fishing? In the middle of winter you ask? Yep. Fishing. Not from a boat, but through the feet thick ice on the reservoir that my parent’s home is on. It used to be a small rustic cottage. Three tiny bedrooms, a sitting room and a kitchen with a single bathroom and cold running water. I still fondly remember when my grandfather put in the very first gas hot water heater and a little shower stall in the pump house. HOT WATER! Man that was living! So many good memories!
Of course it wouldn’t be the same without family. In particular, it wouldn’t have ever been the same without my cousin Julie. The two of us had always been close, able to talk about anything. For reasons I may never understand, that friendship turned physical, not just one time when we were young, but again only a few short months ago. When I left her the last time it was with the hope that she would come down and collect on a very special loan, her red lace panties. But like many desires, it wasn’t to be. I kept expecting her to show up. I had all sorts of ideas about how we could spend a few days. But days turned to weeks turned to months and she didn’t come, didn’t call, only returned a few cryptic text messages, and then our time ran out. My wife returned from her overseas trip and any hope I had of extending our all too brief physical relationship was gone.
Yeah, I know. I was cheating on my wife with my first cousin. Not particularly a good thing to do. I suppose we just let our past feelings cloud our judgement. I hadn’t expected it to happen. Didn’t exactly plan on it happening. It just did. And it would remain one of my most closely and fondly held secrets. On the drive up north I wondered how we would react, Julie and I, when we saw each other again. Part of me really wanted to see her again, and part of me…well…didn’t.
But it was Christmas and family time, hence the trip to the great white north! We pulled into my folk’s place, now a beautiful two thousand square foot home built around that old rustic cabin. If you knew where to look you could still make out where the outline used to be. What was once the only bathroom is now the laundry room, and instead of a door, as kind of a memorial to the old cabin, one single bamboo sliding curtain separates the laundry from the hallway. As I walked past it carrying in our luggage, my mind suddenly wondered if it was the same curtain I watched Julie’s shadow on as she undressed so many years ago.
With several loads of suitcases and duffels of winter clothing hauled in, we closed the doors to keep the cold out and enjoyed the warmth of family after the nine plus hour drive.
Morning broke and instead of the sun’s tantalizing reflection dancing on the ceiling from the lake, a steady bright glow filled the room as the sun bounced off the snow covered ice. I pushed back the curtain and looked out. Little wisps of icy crystals whipped and swirled as the nearly zero degree wind rearranged the tiny snowflakes spread across the ice. Yeah, it was a long drive to come see some real winter. Missouri just didn’t cut it when it came to winter. Oh, don’t get me wrong, we do see snow from time to time, and even the rare white Christmas, but it’s just not the same. No, this was real winter!
I dressed and headed down to the kitchen from where I could smell coffee and bacon, gave my mom a hug and sat down at the table to look out over the frozen landscape while she cooked breakfast. My wife soon joined us, already bundled up in heavy pants and a sweatshirt. For some reason she just never really could embrace the cold snowy weather, but she never wanted me to miss out, and came with me on every trip, except the very few when she was sent out of the country by our less than thoughtful government. No, while this was home for me, it was just someplace she put up with.
After breakfast I made a quick trip to the local gas station for some bait, an assortment of fresh lively minnows, all of which were destined for the cold icy depths of the lake, though they didn’t know it yet. Winter had been good and cold, and it was reported that the lake had anywhere from a foot and a half to two feet of ice on it, depending where you were, and thankfully, the fish had been biting.
Now for the uninformed, it is possible to fish through the ice, and no, we do not saw long slots in the ice to cast lures like we would in the summer. We find the spots that we expect the fish to move across, drill holes and drop lines down the holes and wait patiently, very very patiently for the fish to swim by and notice our bait. No, it isn’t nearly as productive as summer ensest sikiş hikayeleri fishing where you can cover so much more territory, but the fish also act differently. The cold water slows their metabolism and they move lethargically slowly. The trick is to be good at figuring out where the bigger fish will be and put your bait there. In many ways it’s a tougher way to fish than in the summer, but I love doing it both ways.
Bundled up I drove out onto the ice with my ATV, drilled my allotted three holes, set my lines and then retreated to my portable shanty and the little propane heater, settling into the relative comfort of the near freezing temperatures in the shanty compared to the almost zero degree temperatures outside, not to mention the twenty plus degree wind chill.
From where I sat in what was little more than a tent with a hard plastic bottom, I could see my three tip-ups, each with their line leading down through the ice into the cold depths, and also the second house on the old property, the one that now belonged to my cousin Julie. When my grandparents passed, the land at the lake was split, my parents getting the old cottage and half the property, my aunt getting the other half where she built their vacation getaway. Why my dad and my aunt never got along was a mystery to me. I always found my aunt to be kind and welcoming. As she aged and couldn’t afford the taxes and expenses, Julie bought the place, but according to my mom, rarely had time to get up any longer. She said it was just luck that we connected this last summer. Of course she had no idea of just how much we connected, and never would.
“No one will.” I muttered to myself as I looked at the front deck of her place and the little shower head plumbed on one side. I couldn’t help but remember making love to her, standing under that little shower, stroking my hard cock into her over and over until we both came in the moonlight. “Just another memory.” I whispered a little sadly. Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife very much, and what Julie and I share is…well, different. Maybe it’s the forbidden nature of what we feel, or the fact that we’ve enjoyed each other so few times in our lifetimes. I don’t see what I feel for Julie as a threat to what I have with my wife, but it is none the less real. Julie has a VERY special place in my heart, but it doesn’t crowd out what I feel for my wife. No, I have every intention of getting old with the woman I love, the one that puts up with the winter cold to humor me. Yeah, she’s a great woman. Not that it’s always been a rose garden. Well, maybe it has been. Just like any rose garden it has its share of thorns, but in general the beauty of the blooms more than make up for it.
I hadn’t caught anything by lunch time, so I pulled in my lines and drove the ATV off the lake and up to the cottage, yeah I know, it isn’t a cottage any more, even though I call it one, for some lunch.
“Any luck?” My wife askes with a smile as I walk in, still bundled in four layers of heavy clothing.
“Nope. All quiet right now.” I answered as I started peeling off my heavy coat, vest, insulated coverall, heavy boots, scarf… well you get the idea. I headed to the bedroom and peeled off my heavy pants and thermal long underwear before pulling on a pair of jeans and heading down to have a sandwich.
The afternoon was a repeat of the morning, with the exception of a couple small fish. Hours of sitting and waiting for the little flags to pop up, indicating that there was a fish on the line, broken up by frequent trips walking from hole to hole to scoop out the ice that inevitably builds up as the water in the hole tries to freeze back.
The evenings in the winter are different. Family is the order of business on the holiday. Sitting around catching up with my parents or my nephews and their families as they come to visit. We’d often play cards or other games to pass the time, and have fun, while the cold winter winds whipped across the snowy landscape, unheard and unfelt inside the house. Tonight was one of those nights. Visiting with my nephew and his wife, playing some silly card game and generally having a fun time.
The next morning was as the one before. Breakfast, heavy clothes, fishing, lunch. Still no keepers. But that never deterred me. I’d just move my holes a bit more after lunch and see if I could find where those darn fish are hiding. Which was exactly what I did. I moved all three holes almost fifty feet, spreading my set of lines up the gentle slope of the sandy point that Julie and I had played on so many years ago. In fact, my shanty was sitting almost exactly where I had de-pantsed her that summer before college. The same spot where her bare tits smooshed against my face as her bikini top moved as she tried to climb up me to get to her bikini bottoms. The exact same spot where when she slid back down my body she ended up with my rock hard cock pressing for the first time against her soft pussy lips. It was surprising how intense and fresh the images in my mind of those two days still were. So much so that my now fifty plus year old body still reacted.
I shook my head, zipped my coat up again and headed out onto the ice to clear the slush from the holes. It was a short trip. Only about ten minutes. But by the time I was done the minus twenty eight degree wind chill had done its job and I was ready to be back in the heated shanty. I walked up and unzipped the shanty, stopping in mid step as I ducked down and started into the little tent like shanty.
“Well, don’t leave the door open, you’ll freeze us both!” Julie said from where she sat on the little bench seat, still bundled up from the relatively short walk through the snow and ice.
“Jules!” I exclaimed in surprise as I stepped the rest of the way into the shanty and then turned to zip the door closed. I sat down on the little bench seat next to her and unwrapped my face and head, pulling off my gloves and dropping them on the floor in front of me. “God, it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?” I asked, making a small move to lean toward her, intending to kiss her.
“I brought you some hot coco,” she said, her hands with a thermos quickly pushing between us, as much to block my advance as anything else.
I pulled back and stared at the thermos for several long seconds before responding. “Thanks. That’s nice of you. I guess you just came up?”
“Uh huh.” she said quietly, unscrewing the cap of the thermos to pour the steaming brown liquid into a foam cup. “About an hour ago. I saw your stuff out here and figured you were fishing.”
“Uh huh. As usual.” I answered, turning on the bench seat to face toward the large plastic window looking over the ice. “Thanks for the coco.”
“My pleasure.” she said softly as she poured her own cup. We sat in silence for several long minutes. Before either of us said anything, each of us sipping our coco and wondering who would speak first. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind rattling the sides of the shanty.
“Me too.” I answered barely louder than her. “You didn’t come.”
“No.” she said softly. “I wanted to. Lord knows I started to several times. Even had a bag packed and sitting in the living room.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“The more I thought about it the less fair it was going to be for you. Getting another taste of US, but knowing that it couldn’t be for real. Knowing that after only a few short days that you’d have to go back to life as it was, feeling what you did for me… what I do for you. No, it wasn’t fair to either of us. I thought it’d be kinder to just let what happened slip past. A wonderful memory, but not a reality we could ever live.”
“I see.” I answered, knowing she was right but still feeling the ache in my heart that we had lost at least that fleeting chance to share those feelings again. “So how long you up for?”
“Just today. I have to go back tomorrow,” she said quietly. “When I heard you were up I had to come. To at least explain.”
“You could have called.” I said with a shrug.
“No, I couldn’t. At least not then. I knew that you’d convince me to come anyway. I knew that if you asked, I wouldn’t be able to say no. I wanted it too much to say no,” she said quietly, her hand reaching out to my leg and resting on it.
“But you came now?” I asked, feeling somewhat confused.
“Yeah. It’s safer this way. With your wife back. Yeah, lots safer. I mean look at us. We’re so bundled up that there’s no way we can do anything,” she said quietly.
“No, I suppose not.” I answered after a few seconds. “Feels like an eternity ago that we played in the water almost where we’re sitting. Do you remember?”
“Oh yeah. Like it was yesterday. You pulled my suit bottoms off on accident and then I pulled yours off on purpose. I swear I can still feel your dick pressed between my legs,” she said with a soft sigh. “God, you felt so good. Every time I touched you I felt like my pussy was on fire wanting you to touch me. When we finally did have sex it was…incredible. I tried so hard to act grown up and in control, but to be honest, every time I thought about having sex with you I got a zillion butterflies in my stomach. I almost didn’t have the nerve to go buy those condoms that night.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah, and only used one. Once I felt you come inside me, even in that condom I knew I wanted to feel you skin to skin.”
“Yeah, it was dangerous, but worth it.”
“Oh yeah. Way more dangerous than you know. But worth it? Oh yeah! You set a damn high bar for other guys to meet,” she said, moving her hand from my leg and wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she leaned over against me. “I wish we could go back to that time again!” She whispered.
“To undo it?”
“No. To make it last forever!” She said softly. “I so wanted that to last forever.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I agreed, turning my head and kissing her forehead.
We sat for almost half an hour longer, leaning against each other, not saying a word before she let go and straightened up. “I better go in. I’m getting a cold butt,” she said with a soft girlish chuckle. She capped the coco thermos and stood up, pulling on her gloves.
“I’ll get the door for you.” I said, reaching for the zipper and undoing it all the way up and around the doorway, letting the wind flap the now loose nylon as she got ready to go out into the wind.
“Michael…” she said, stopping mid-sentence. She leaned toward me and kissed me softly, her lips pressing gently and lovingly against mine for several long seconds. More than long enough for my heart to start pounding in my chest and my hands to find her hips to pull her tightly to me. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered as she broke the kiss, stepping back from me and then quickly ducking out of the shanty and practically running across the ice toward her cabin.
“Yeah.” I breathed as I pulled my own gloves and hat on and started the long walk to clean out the ice holes, part of me hoping the frigid wind would carry away the feelings and thoughts I had at that moment. By the time I had reached the last hole and was walking back toward the shanty I saw her blue import backing out of the driveway onto the main road. I got several glimpses of her car through the naked trees as it went down the road before disappearing around the corner.
Summer fishing is really my favorite. While fishing through the ice is enjoyable, fishing these more northern waters gives me a chance to chase the fish of my youth, instead of the more common small and large mouth bass near my, now, home base in Missouri. Summer is one of two times each year I try to get up and see my parents, the first Christmas, and the second, Fourth of July. They’re getting older now and you never know when you say goodbye if it’ll be the last time, so I try to come up now as frequently as I can. My wife doesn’t enjoy the trip quite as much as I do. Oh hell, I’ll just say it. She gets bored because I spend all my time fishing during the day and she’s just never quite been that much of a fisherwoman.
This year her military annual training just happened to fall across the fourth so I made the trip up alone. So far it had been an enjoyable week, with only a few days left before the fourth and then home. I really hated the idea of traveling on the Sunday after the fourth, but I wasn’t going to have a lot of choice. I’d just have to deal with the insane traffic that could easily push a nine and a half hour drive to eleven or twelve. But that’s a worry for later. Today is just…fish and enjoy.
I had been enjoying it too. I’d caught quite a few nice fish each of the four days I’d gone out, only skipping the one day it rained like cats and dogs. Today was cloudy, but hot, the temperatures soaring almost to eighty with the cloud filtered sun barely making it to my bare back and shoulders as I trolled my crankbait back and forth across the mudflats. I was surprised as how shallow the channel had become, the water from the upper dam having cut a new channel through what had been a long narrow island, making a new path that no longer flowed the huge quantities down the old river channel. Silt settled in the old channel, dropping its deepest spots from thirty or more feet do a relatively tame fifteen or so. I wondered how many years before the mud flats that used to be land, would be the same level as the channel. Hopefully not in my lifetime I mused.
It was getting close to lunch time so I made one last pass, packed up my lines and ran the boat on the small gas trolling motor out to deeper water, the changing channel leaving it no longer safe to motor at high speed as I had so many years ago. I got out to where the new channel from the upper reservoir met the old channel and fired up the big motor for the fifteen minute ride back to the cottage.
I pulled in, tied the boat to the dock and pulled my t-shirt on before stepping out of the boat for the short walk up the landing and across the lawn. I was at least half way back to the cottage before I even noticed the blue car parked at Julie’s. I froze in my tracks, my brain suddenly trying to make up its mind if I should continue on my path to my parents, or divert and see Julie. After half a dozen heartbeats I continued on, knowing that she had made her position all too well known at Christmas. She could have stayed and we could have talked longer, but she left, and I hadn’t heard from her since.
I ate lunch with my mom and dad, chatting about what was on the news and how the fishing was. I didn’t really feel like talking, but then if I didn’t that would have been strange, so I did. After lunch I retreated to a book I had brought, planning on going back out fishing in the late afternoon, knowing that mid-day in July was not an overly productive time to fish. After an hour or so I took my book and walked down to the dock, checking to see that the blue car was still there as I made my way to the dock. I dropped into the bow of my boat and sat with my feet propped up on the passenger windshield, feeling the breeze and the rocking of the boat as I read my book.
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