Ken James Fiction
Lost and found in the wilderness
Night falls early in the Rugged Mountains . . .
Tom Prescott was worried. It was early autumn and the temperature would drop below freezing before morning. He had warm clothes—boots, jeans, flannel shirt, sweater, insulated coat, gloves, and a stocking cap—but no food, no shelter, and no equipment, except for a half-empty canteen and a long-bladed hunting knife. He hadn't even brought matches.
And he was lost. It was stupid and he should have known better. If he could really kick himself, his butt would be bruised blue. He'd had a major fight with his girlfriend and had taken a few days off to let things cool down.
Coming to the mountains always made him feel better. This time, he'd needed that more than ever before. He'd hiked for a couple of hours along a new trail, stopped to eat the picnic lunch he'd brought, and then headed back toward his jeep. He hadn't planned to spend the night. Of course, he hadn't planned on dropping his GPS into a swiftly running stream and having it swept away, either.
Tom was trying to remember how to build a pine bough shelter when he smelled the smoke. It wasn't heavy like a forest fire, just a light odor on the breeze. It had to be a camp fire, somewhere upwind and close.
He followed his nose along a twisting and poorly-defined trail. It was full dark when he stepped into a wide clearing, lit by a small cheerful fire in its center.
"Who's there?" a young-sounding male voice called from the darkness.
"I'm just a hiker." Tom hoped he hadn't walked into a pot grower's camp. "I'm lost."
The man sitting by the fire was in his late 20s—a few years older than Tom—tall and slender with collar-length black hair and a short black beard. "Come sit down," he said.
Tom sat cross-legged at the edge of the stone circle surrounding the fire. Rich cooking smells rose from a pot sitting at the edge of the flames, reminding Tom how hungry he was.
He held his hands out toward the fire. "That feels good."
"I bet." The other man extended his hand. "Hi. I'm Clint Hardwick."
Tom took Clint's hand and shook it. "Tom Prescott. I'm really glad to meet you."
"This a bad night to be lost in the mountains," Clint said. "You must be hungry." He picked up a battered mess kit and handed it to Tom. "Go ahead and eat."
Tom dug in. It was delicious—tender meat seasoned with some kind of wild spices.
The fire flared, showing hiking gear and a small tent. "Do you live out here?" Tom mumbled through a mouthful of stew.
"Sometimes. I'm an EPA biologist and I do a lot of field work."
"Sounds interesting. But sort of lonely."
Clint shrugged. "It's not too bad. I've got the world's greatest office." He paused. "I do get horny sometimes."
"Women," Tom said. "Can't live with 'em. Can't live without 'em."
"Well . . . Women. Yeah." Cliff took a bottle of Jack Daniel's out of his backpack and handed it to Tom. "Here. You'll need this. It's gonna get fucking cold tonight. Probably a little snow before morning."
Tom took a long drink. It filled him with a pleasant warmth. "Pretty smooth." He passed the bottle to Clint.
"Life's too short to drink cheap whisky." Clint's knee brushed Tom's. "Or to miss opportunities."
Tom's dick stirred at the touch. "Uh . . . Yeah. I guess so."
"Dad told me there are regrets for the things you do and for the things you don't do," Clint said. "The second kind is worse."
"All right." Tom wasn't sure what else to say. He and Clint passed the bottle until the fire had burned down to embers.
"Let's go to bed." Clint kicked dirt onto the fire and then led Tom to the tent. He turned on a LED camp light, zipped the entrance flap, and started the catalytic heater.
There was only one sleeping bag. "We'll have to share," Clint said. "It'll be kind of intimate."
"That's all right," Tom said. "It sure beats freezing."
The heater was already warming the tent. The men took their coats off and sat on the sleeping pad, facing each other. Tom was suddenly aware of how sexy Clint was. He wasn't into guys, but there was something about being alone in the wilderness with this mountain man.
"Let's get undressed," Clint said. "Our bodies generate a lot of heat and we don't want to get sweaty." They took off their boots, shirts, and finally their jeans.
Clint wasn't wearing underwear. Tom couldn't help staring at his long thick dick.
Clint grinned at the tent in Tom's boxers. "You're packin' some serious wood there, Buddy."
"Uh . . . You're pretty hung yourself." Tom's cock grew longer and thicker as he looked Clint over. His long hair, beard, muscular body, and rapidly-hardening cock were so raw, primal, and male.
"Sexy guys get me hot," Clint said. "And you are a total stud."
"Uh . . ." Tom stared at Clint's stiff pole, rising from his lush pubic thatch.
"Don't be shy." Clint guided Tom's hand to his crotch. "You know you want this."
"Yeah. I do." Tom wrapped his fingers around Clint's swollen rod. He'd never touched another man's hard cock before. He stroked it slowly, running his fist up and down its firm shaft.
Clint drew a deep breath and thrust his pelvis toward Tom. Precum leaked from the tip of his hard cock and ran over its head down to its shaft. "That feels good."
Tom extended his strokes, running the circle made by his closed thumb and index finger over Clint's corneal ring and caressing his cock-head. Clint rolled his hips slowly, setting a counter rhythm to Tom's rapidly dancing fingers. Tom gripped Clint's balls, squeezing them tightly while he worked Clint's rod.
"Oh man!" Clint groaned. "You're gonna make me come!"
"Yeah!" Tom leaned forward, still roughly jerking Clint's throbbing pole. "Shoot for me!" He took Clint's cock in his mouth and sucked it frantically. Hard hot waves of cum gushed into his mouth. He gulped frantically, swallowing every drop.
He held Clint's cock in his mouth long after the other man had finished coming, savoring the tang of his cum and the raw male taste of his softened rod.
"You're really good." Clint pulled Tom to his feet and kissed him roughly, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Tom froze, but then melted into the kiss, opening his mouth wide and lashing his tongue against Clint's.
"It was fun," Tom said. "I've never—"
"That's the first time you sucked a dick?" Clint gripped the stiff rod sticking out of Tom's unzipped jeans. "You sure got me off."
"First time I've done anything with another guy."
"Well, you sure did it good." Clint took a tube of lubricant out of his backpack and handed it to Tom, then lay on his back with his knees pressed against his chest. "Fuck me now. I'm ready."
None of Tom's girlfriends had been into anal. He stared at Clint's stiff dick, bulging balls, and the little puckered hole between his muscular buttocks. "Okay."
"Come on." Clint lifted his butt higher. "You know what to do."
"Yeah." Tom squirted a big blob of lubricant into the palm of his hand and stroked his rigid pole, spreading the slick gel over its bulging head and swollen shaft. "I'm gonna fuck the hell out of you."
He pressed his cock-head into the center of Clint's asshole and pushed forward. Clint's ass muscles resisted, increasing the pressure on Tom's wide knob. He pushed harder, driving his rod through Clint's anal ring and plunging into his depths.
"Jesus!" Clint gasped. "That's so fucking good."
"For me, too," Tom said. "Your ass is so hot and tight."
"Better than a pussy?"
"Well . . ." Tom drew back and then pushed back in, savoring the pressure on his cock's head and shaft. "Is a pizza better than a burger?"
"Your hot dog sure feels good in my buns." Clint rolled his hips, pushing his buttocks toward Tom's driving rod. "Now, fuck me. Hard."
Tom went faster, pulling almost out and then slamming home, bouncing his balls against Clint's butt cheeks. "Like this?"
"Yeah." Clint's cock jerked in time with Tom's increasingly rough thrusts. "Pound my ass."
"Yeah, man! Take my cock!" Tom pulled his dick completely out of Clint's asshole and then pushed it back in. He did that a few more times, driving through Clint's tight anal ring and up his hot tight butt, then went back to fucking him, even harder and faster than before.
"Come on." Clint jerked his stiff pole while Tom hammered his ass. "Shoot it. I want to feel you come."
"Oh yeah!" The tension in Tom's nuts built to the bursting point. "I've got a big hot load for you." He slammed Clint's asshole, firing shot after shot into its depths.
"That's right!" Clint's hand flew over his throbbing pole. "Come in me! In my ass—" Long streams of cum shot from his hard cock, splashing his chest and belly. "Jesus fuck!"
Tom collapsed onto Clint. The two men lay together, breathing hard.
"Damn, you're good!" Clint kissed Tom passionately.
"So are you." Tom kissed Clint back. "I've never felt anything like that."
Clint laughed. "Have I spoiled you for women?" Clint asked.
"Probably not." Tom laughed. "But I've sure developed a taste for hot dogs."
Clint kissed Tom again, starting tenderly but then getting dirty. "That's good. Because I'm going to put my hot dog in your buns."
This is a short story adapted from my book Rescued By The Mountain Men, now available on Kinky Literature, Amazon, and Smashwords. It contains approximately 25% of the smokin' hot material in the book. I've rearranged and sometimes rewritten scenes to create a stand-alone story. If you like this story, you'll really like the book.