A Bird In The Hand... (cont.)
My legs were unsteady. "Gotta sit down," I wheezed and plopped back down on the sleeping bag. I was hot, a mix of internal passions and flushed skin, my heart pounding. Sweat popped out all over and I shivered as it dried in the cool morning breeze.
He sat beside me with a warm arm around my waist hugging me close. That only made me shiver more. I just don't react like this. The whole experience was so atypical it was frightening. But, I did feel safe with him there, his arm comforting me. That was the strangest part of it all. I was fearful of my reactions to him yet escaping in his embrace to which I was reacting in fear. Total confusion and overload mushed my brain.
With his other hand he reached out and lifted my chin turning my face toward him, then away, studying. "You do know you are beautiful, don't you?" he whispered. "Not feminine at all, all man yet more than handsome, beautiful."
I was sure at that instant I was suffering a heart attack. My chest was full, and bound. It was if a belt was tightening around it. He leaned over, kissing on my chin, then rubbed his nose on mine. I couldn't breath. I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears and the constriction of my chest got worse. It ached from between my shoulder blades clear around to my breast bone -- and down.
Lightly he pressed his lips on mine. The tip of his tongue ran out, first across, then between our upper lips. I finally got a rattling gasp of air as he gently forced my lips apart darting that tongue in to brush on and then run from mine. I collapsed back on the sleeping bag.
Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. With just that gentle but insistent kiss I went soaring off into a gut wrenching, gasping, guttural moaning climax. I'd never even experienced a fucking wet dream that I remembered and here I was literally creaming my jeans over a kiss. There was no hiding the way my body jerked as my muscles contracted, or the dark stain that spread on my jeans.
I was embarrassed. Shit, I was mortified. Reacting like a fucking virgin teenager. The Ranger held me lightly and then lifted up. He rolled on his side next to me. Reaching out he touched the dampness. "I did that? What a reaction!" He moved his hand to squeeze on my shriveling cock through the denim. "A little quick on the draw. You packing a quick loading repeater?. You do know you just spilled the best part of my breakfast all over your jeans. Now I got nothing to put on my pancakes but syrup."
He was smiling, a wild twinkle in his eye, doing a damn good job of kidding me out of my embarrassment. "But, the offer still stands. If you're up to it, come on down to my campsite and I'll whip up a very enjoyable and delicious meal." He winked. "Real food will be included."
I couldn't keep from smiling. On seeing that he gave a happy thumbs up to the woodland spirits watching us. I found his enthusiasm infectious. How could I fear being with this raven haired, happy go luck hunk? I chucked the soiled clothes, slid into a pair of walking shorts and followed him down the trail.
Relaxing, watching him busy over his campfire, I was finding myself getting hard again. He wasn't trying to act provocative, was actually doing what he had promised, fixing a breakfast. The smell was mouth watering, bacon sizzling in a skillet, coffee perking away. He was squatting by the fire, those cut offs molded tight on his backside. A rip right by the left hip pocket revealed a strip of flesh, not underwear.
Flipping pancakes in another pan, reaching with a spatula to turn the bacon, his incredible arms put on a muscular display of their own. He was lip smackingly appealing all by himself and it was firing my libido. But, my stomach was rumbling, telling my cock to take it easy. It was just hard to decide which meal to attack first.
Seated side by side on a ground-cover he spread we went at the food first. My stomach thanked me. The pancakes were light, fluffy and tasty; the bacon crisp; the coffee perfect. I was making polite little sounds of appreciation, my mouth full, when he looked up.
Chuckling he told me "Don't you dare have another orgasm. I wanted to impress you, but not that much."
I almost choked getting that bite down. "It's just this is so good. I was taught not t speak with my mouth full"
"So, you're the strong silent type in bed too, right?" He chuckled, the sound rumbling out of his chest, and ducked as I swung at him.
When our plates were empty I offered to help clean up. He refused to make a guest work for his meal. So I tugged my tee shirt off, rolled it for a head rest and lolled, sunning and digesting. With everything cleaned up and put away he eased down beside me.
"By the way, I'm Terry Jordan. HIV negative as of three weeks ago, age twenty eight, not attached, looking."
"Don't we all?" I opened my eyes and wrinkled my nose at him. "You know my name. I'm sorta attached. We've got problems. That's why I came out here." I went on, telling him about Barry. How we met. Why we were fighting. I didn't hide things, found it easy to talk because he was listening, interested. He didn't play games taking my side automatically. Asked some questions. Made me think.
Along the way I got in that my last test had also been negative and briefly recounted what had happened last night with the Ghost of the Shenandoahs, as I now though of my visitor. Terry didn't believe me when I told him I was five years his junior. At least he was smooth enough about it to make me think he didn't.
I stopped talking. He was giving me that look again. "When are you going to take off that ugly thing . . . " I said, tugging on his sweat shirt. ". . . and join me? I'm so friggin' full, if I stop talking I'm going to fall asleep."
"Not if I join you, you won't," he said, muffled through the cloth as he shed his shirt. He lay down resting his head on my thigh. Turning to look at me up across my body, he patted my swollen crotch. "Looks like you're ready to serve lunch already."
I raised up, looked down and gave him a double pump. "Just a little between meal snack. Wouldn't want my Ranger to go hungry."
"Tease!" He snuggled down, leaving his hand resting, lightly massaging. Just who's teasing who, I thought.
'Terry?" He lolled back and looked up. "Shouldn't we worry about unexpected visitors coming up here?"
"You mean like Silent Sam, your Ghost Man?"
"That I can deal with. No, I mean common folk, people who just don't know how to react to two nearly naked guys hugging, kissing and possibly involved in even more disturbing activities."
"Not to worry," he grinned as he spoke. "The trail up to this site and yours has a neat little official 'closed' sign on it. It tells the curious that the sites it leads to have been overrun with poison ivy that's been sprayed with potentially hazardous herbicides. We actually do that you know." He winked. "So, relax . . ." That hand squeezed tighter on my groin. ". . . enjoy."
I stretched, yawned and closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his hand flow over me. I drifted, restful yet tingling with anticipation. Deserves Barry right if I have some fun.
There were little flutters of movement. One by one the buttons on my shorts came loose. His hand was now on my flesh, reaching, grasping my swollen cock and lifting it out into the sunlight. It snapped to attention with no more that that exploring touch. His head was rubbing, catlike, on my thigh, inching up each time he moved. Then his breath was hot on the underside of that shaft that was pointing at my belly button quivering. I felt a touch right on the tip and then he was purring.
He lifted my cock and his head. One hot organ merged with another. A gasping cry, "Oh, YES!" sprung from my lips as he clamped onto me. His first move traveled steadily down that column of flesh so without stopping he took me fully into his mouth. I lifted up on my elbows and watched in amazement as I slowly reemerged when he started backing off. Reaching my dick head he paused, nibbling, looking me in the eye. His eyes were sparkling, an impish grin spread on both sides of my cock, still captured between his lips.
"Come here, damn you, I said, tugging on his arms. "I owe you for breakfast and I always pay my debts." He shifted up beside me, not letting go. I rolled on my side and was soon with my nose pressed into his fly. The top button was already open. My hips gyrated in response to his pulsing movement on my dick. I tore at his jeans, ripping the zipper all the way down. I pulled that fly open and out sprang this luscious offering. His prick was just like the rest of him, not quite equal to me in height, but stocky, muscular.
Actually that cock was so fucking stocky I wondered if I could get it all in. It stood straight out, poking me in the nose. Wet drops of fire smeared me as he thrust it forward. I opened wide and attached myself onto it firmly.
Working with my tongue on and around the tip I stroked on the shaft with my hand. It fit snug but I found I could work it into my mouth. I was sucking and slowly twisting my head from side to side. Throwing my arms around his upper thighs I hugged him to me as we together buried the last inch deep. Swallowing, I felt him slide into my throat. I was struggling to breath. He pulled back as he thrust his head down ramming me deep into his own throat. Fuck did that feel good.
I picked up his rhythm. We humped against each other, face fucking with a tempo that grew faster, then grew frantic. I could feel him quivering in my arms, his thick thighs clutching against my ears and he pistoned his hips. The same urge made my cock swell, almost locking itself in his mouth.
Feeling that mutual fire we pulled apart. Scrambling to our feet we stood side by side, whapping. Our pants were around our ankles, hanging on our boot tops. I was panting.
"I'm . . . ah . . . going to shoot!" he grunted. He took a side step and shuffled, turning to face me. I did the same, moving in closer as I felt my cum rushing for release.
As his first spurt splattered and ran down the taut flat muscles at my waist, I opened my mouth to warn him. Only a long moaning cry came as I erupted, cum jetting up. It fell back on my hand as it whipped even harder. I pushed down and let the following loads shoot out to join with his, soaking his hand, creaming his belly, scattering pearly drops in his dick hairs, dribbling on his shorts.
We were both panting, grinning at each other, laughing between gasps.
"Damn, we're fucking good!" he exclaimed after catching his breath. "God damn, fucking damn good! Wh-o-o-o-e-e-e-!" He paused, watching me squeeze the last drops out onto the ground. "That devil is not a quick loading repeater, it's a fucking machine gun."
I grew flush, blushing over every inch of my nakedness. He watched and laughed even harder. "Shit, man, a guy can't make any moves on you. You're either dropping loads or turning red all the time."
He had me laughing too. Grabbing up my tee shirt I wiped him down, between fits of laughter. He used his shirt to do the same for me. Tossing them aside we moved into each others arms. Stumbling with our legs still in cloth shackles we fell back onto the ground. Cursing, he tore at his boots, loosening them, kicking them off, throwing his socks and shorts on top of them. I was busy doing the same. Stripped, we lay down and snuggled, sucking face, letting our bodies move together, rubbing languidly, lightly, sensuously.
I was starting to get hard again. This is not me, I mused. He pushed me out at arms length. "Well, if that's the way you feel . . . " He was looking down at my swiftly rising cock. ". . .I better get some new clean up rags. Those are overloaded." He gestured at where our two shirts lay.
I watched as he worked his way over to his tent. Squatting he reached in. His balls and that tempting heavy tube steak hung low, swinging as he searched. He came back with a towel and two tee shirts.
"I want to be like Noah, ready for the flood, this time." A big grin lit his face.
I wrinkled my nose at him again and muttered, "Fuck you, Ranger Rick."
"It is my most ardent desire," he whispered as he slid down on the ground-cover and wrapped his arms around me.
We fooled around and eventually got seriously involved in another wild sixty nine session that ended this time with us lying side by side in a pud pounding race like I hadn't done since I was fifteen. Except, this time we kept watching each other and breaking up, laughing after the first wise crack Terry made about how I screwed up my face while concentrating on masturbating.
He was right. If I looked as goofy as he did when he started bumping and grinding, sticking out his tongue and straining, bug eyed. It made it difficult to seriously finish things off. At one point I got the giggles and by the time I calmed down Terry had to help me recover with application of a little mouth to dick resuscitation.
We finally agreed to keep our eyes averted, or at least no higher than our own belly buttons. With only two thrashing picks to watch it quickly got very hot, heightening the blatant sexuality of our activity. We were both working our hands deliberately faster, now back to a teenage circle jerking race of 'I can do it faster'. I found myself once more tugging, pinching on my nipples.
Because of the spell of the giggles, or maybe since this was my third time this morning, Terry went crashing into his orgasm first. He was lying there breathing hard and talking dirty to me when I finally started feeling that tingle and tightening of m scrotum.
"Pump it, baby. Fuck that dick into the sky. Load up that frigg'n machine gun. Faster. Faster!" He moved in closer. "Here. Let me help." He leaned in and replaced a hand with his mouth, sucking on a breast. Lightly clamping his teeth on a hard nipple and grinding them together he sent a fierce shot of intense pleasure-pain through my chest into my gut. I didn't push him away. I thrust up, mashing my pectoral muscle against his mouth and hugged him tight, keeping him anchored on my nipple.
My body was on fire, muscles contracting, tenses and quivering. Together we were sending me into an orbit of sexual thrills that had me clinching my jaw to keep from screaming. My legs were thrashing. My hand was no longer sweeping up and down but vibrating, fiercely jerking taut the dickskin beneath my cock head, as if to rip it away. It built quickly now. My dick was swelling in my hand, my nuts aching for release, throbbing.
With one massive shudder my cum was jetting out, a stray spurt flying over Terry's head. It landed and ran down my cheek, a heavy white tear. Several others from the first burst landed in his raven locks. The rest splashed onto my chest below him. The following streams of creaminess ran together into my bell button or down the sides of my heaving abdomen.
"Kiss me, Terry, just kiss me," I pleaded, pushing his head up until our lips met. He was soft, gentle, loving with his mouth on mine. His body eased onto mine. Slowly twisting he glued us together with my wetness. I ran my hand into his hair and encountered those random drops of cum. "Sorry, I went wild again."
"Baby, don't apologize. You're fantastically sexy. I love floating on your love juice. I love your cock, your balls, your hands, your tits, your mouth, everything." He continued slowly undulating on me. His chest rubbed on mine smearing even those drops of cum between us. Humming again he sounded like a well fed cat.
"You feel so good," I whispered in his ear. "Don't go away."
"I'm stuck on you, baby. Can't get away. Don't want to," he whispered back, kissing light on my ear. He reached out and tugged the towel over his bare bottom. "Don't want a sun burnt butt though," he said and snuggled down.
We drifted off, holding tight to each other, making soft sex sounds. Our bodies moved sensually against each other, content, happy. It seemed like only seconds later I felt him scrubbing on me. My eyes popped open to see him, his shorts again clinging to his hips, a hand with one of those tee shirts wiping up the cum smeared on my body. Finished drying me from cheek to my curly dick hairs he offered me my shorts.
"It's going to be a formal luncheon, covered loins are required."
"What are we having, chef of the wild woods?" I lay on my back tugging the walkers up over my hips.
"Potatoes, baking in the coals right now; a fresh tossed salad, thanks to the folks at Coleman for the cooler; and steaks cooked to order. Does that meet my honored guest's approval?"
Once again, Terry proved his skill as a cook in the wild. I was ravenous and tore into it as soon as he sat it in front of me. Full and no longer famished I sat back, resting on my elbows. It was futile to offer to help clean up, he was still playing host.
The meal was heavy on my stomach. "Terry, I'm exhausted, can't figure why," I said with a smile. "That meal, I couldn't stop eating. I'm so full. Think I better bet back to my camp and flake out in the tent for a couple of hours and see you later."
"Why hike all the way back there? My casa is su casa, or however that goes," he said pointing at the tent.
"Hate to just move in on you, breakfast, lunch, now your tent."
"Hey, you forget, I put the move on you and we've already shared a few between meal goodies. What's a little tent space?" He winked and pulled me to my feet, smacked my ass and sent me to bed.
With the front and back flaps open the tent was cool, reflecting the sun and letting a light breeze pass through. I tossed and turned a few times hearing odd sounds as Terry cleaned up and puttered around doing whatever mountain men do when camping. I was soon sawing logs, my stomach softly rumbling, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.
A Bird In The Hand . . . (sometimes you have to make a choice)
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