Alex's cock pressed between the crack of my ass. At some point he had pulled my long john's down. His mouth slid over the back of my neck, nuzzling and licking me behind my left ear.
Fingers twisted my nipple ring hard, sending a jolt of pure pain and exquisite pleasure straight to the root of my cock. I groaned and arched against him, letting him know I was fully awake.
Without a word he pushed his fat dick past my tight anal ring, slamming up my channel with a grunt. He rode me hard and fast, rocking into me, skimming his fist around my cock and bringing me to a numbing climax seconds after he came inside me.
After he withdrew and I rolled over to look up at him, he gave me a lazy, sated grin.
"I see a good night's sleep agrees with you," I said.
"Slept like a baby." He reached for his glasses.
I looked down at his limp cock. "Sure don't wake up like one."
He ran stiff fingers through my short hair, tilting my head back so he could study my face before kissing me soundly.
"No, I don't. What's for breakfast, boy?"
I scrambled into clothes and climbed out of the tent. Alex was at my heels, tucking his pant legs into his boot tops like I had told him, to keep out bugs and prickly seeds. He left his plaid shirttail out and his sleeves rolled up over his muscular 105
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
arms. I stepped into the woods to take care of business after warning Alex to watch out for poison oak. It was barely dawn.
The crisp morning air was cool and alive with bird song.
Without even trying, I heard an orange-crowned warbler, and a mountain quail, along with the usual complaining jays. The air carried a bevy of odors from all around us. Pine resin from upslope, sage, creosote and mulch from the meadows beyond the riparian woods we were in. Somewhere, the smoke from a fire. We weren't alone on the mountain. Like you could actually be alone anywhere in California these days. As long as they weren't parked next to us, and they didn't make a stink about two guys sharing a small tent, I didn't care.
I saw Alex with the camera, taking candid shots of me as I got things ready for our breakfast.
I pulled my backpack down from the tree I had stashed ours in and rummaged through it. Digging out the battered cooking pot I'd hung onto even after years of not using it, I got a fire going and soon had coffee brewing; if you can call dumping a mound of coffee into the pot and covering it with enough water to give us each a cup brewing coffee.
Dehydrated eggs and the last of the fresh fruit we had carried in with us was breakfast.
He made a face when I served him the coffee. "Sorry, no Starbucks up here." I waved toward the slope we had climbed up yesterday. "Before we strike camp we can go down there and splash water on our faces."
He grimaced.
"Get used to a whole new level of clean." I grinned. "Good thing I like the way you smell."
106
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
He grimaced some more and buried his nose in his tin mug. But I could tell he was pleased. I hoped he liked the way I smelled, too.
Packing up took at least fifteen minutes longer than it would have taken me on my own, but I knew better than to make Alex feel helpless or incompetent. Once our gear was on our backs and I made sure everything we'd brought in was coming out with us, I did something I should have done from the beginning. I scoured the forest floor until I found four walking sticks. When I handed two to him he looked at them, then at me dubiously.
"They're improvised Nordic walking poles. If I'd been thinking I'd have picked up the real thing." He demonstrated how to use them. "Trust me, climbing up and down hills will be a lot easier with these. Gives you better balance. And they're a great all body workout. Get those lats and core muscles in shape."
He tested his like I'd showed him, seemed satisfied and waved me to go ahead of him.
"I'd like to follow the water, if that's okay with you." I hefted my brand new Nikon
Fingers twisted my nipple ring hard, sending a jolt of pure pain and exquisite pleasure straight to the root of my cock. I groaned and arched against him, letting him know I was fully awake.
Without a word he pushed his fat dick past my tight anal ring, slamming up my channel with a grunt. He rode me hard and fast, rocking into me, skimming his fist around my cock and bringing me to a numbing climax seconds after he came inside me.
After he withdrew and I rolled over to look up at him, he gave me a lazy, sated grin.
"I see a good night's sleep agrees with you," I said.
"Slept like a baby." He reached for his glasses.
I looked down at his limp cock. "Sure don't wake up like one."
He ran stiff fingers through my short hair, tilting my head back so he could study my face before kissing me soundly.
"No, I don't. What's for breakfast, boy?"
I scrambled into clothes and climbed out of the tent. Alex was at my heels, tucking his pant legs into his boot tops like I had told him, to keep out bugs and prickly seeds. He left his plaid shirttail out and his sleeves rolled up over his muscular 105
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
arms. I stepped into the woods to take care of business after warning Alex to watch out for poison oak. It was barely dawn.
The crisp morning air was cool and alive with bird song.
Without even trying, I heard an orange-crowned warbler, and a mountain quail, along with the usual complaining jays. The air carried a bevy of odors from all around us. Pine resin from upslope, sage, creosote and mulch from the meadows beyond the riparian woods we were in. Somewhere, the smoke from a fire. We weren't alone on the mountain. Like you could actually be alone anywhere in California these days. As long as they weren't parked next to us, and they didn't make a stink about two guys sharing a small tent, I didn't care.
I saw Alex with the camera, taking candid shots of me as I got things ready for our breakfast.
I pulled my backpack down from the tree I had stashed ours in and rummaged through it. Digging out the battered cooking pot I'd hung onto even after years of not using it, I got a fire going and soon had coffee brewing; if you can call dumping a mound of coffee into the pot and covering it with enough water to give us each a cup brewing coffee.
Dehydrated eggs and the last of the fresh fruit we had carried in with us was breakfast.
He made a face when I served him the coffee. "Sorry, no Starbucks up here." I waved toward the slope we had climbed up yesterday. "Before we strike camp we can go down there and splash water on our faces."
He grimaced.
"Get used to a whole new level of clean." I grinned. "Good thing I like the way you smell."
106
A Forest of Corpses
by P. A. Brown
He grimaced some more and buried his nose in his tin mug. But I could tell he was pleased. I hoped he liked the way I smelled, too.
Packing up took at least fifteen minutes longer than it would have taken me on my own, but I knew better than to make Alex feel helpless or incompetent. Once our gear was on our backs and I made sure everything we'd brought in was coming out with us, I did something I should have done from the beginning. I scoured the forest floor until I found four walking sticks. When I handed two to him he looked at them, then at me dubiously.
"They're improvised Nordic walking poles. If I'd been thinking I'd have picked up the real thing." He demonstrated how to use them. "Trust me, climbing up and down hills will be a lot easier with these. Gives you better balance. And they're a great all body workout. Get those lats and core muscles in shape."
He tested his like I'd showed him, seemed satisfied and waved me to go ahead of him.
"I'd like to follow the water, if that's okay with you." I hefted my brand new Nikon
Similar Books
