Working hard on this one…look for it next week. Wait till you get a load of the three way between Sam, Eddie and Jake! How I’m going to top that with the big finish between Sam and Derek, I don’t know… Here’s the first draft of the opening to hold you till then!
How long would you survive in the wild?
Sam never thought of it in terms of time. Survival was something you did minute to minute, day to day. Surviving was something you did until circumstances changed, until you were rescued, or your pursuers gave up, or you found your way home. Surviving meant not thinking too far in the future – the farther into the future you looked, the longer you were out there on your own, the dimmer your prospects.
He brushed his longish hair back off his face. He’d been letting it grow for a few months now, his military buzzcut a part of the past…like so many other things. His future was changing, he knew, and in some great ways, but also in ways that…well, didn’t bear thinking about right now.
Sam looked out over the forest falling steeply away from his perch on a boulder. The outdoors always made him horny. Fresh air, exercise, solitude. His student Terry was out gathering branches for the lean-to’s roof. There was nobody else around for miles. He could just pull his dick out right now and start stroking it…
Just the thought was enough to give him a hardon. Remembering how Terry’s firm tight ass had looked as he bent over in his tan shorts, Sam rubbed his cock through his fatigues. One of these days I’m going to fuck a guy in the ass, one of these days I’ll see what it feels like, what Derek felt when he did that to me…when he fucked me so hard he fucked the cum out of me.
Knowing that he could get caught was half the excitement, as Sam opened his fly and pulled his dick out. He leaned back on the boulder, sun on his face, and closed his eyes. His excellent hearing would warn him if Terry was back. And, some part of him said, maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe you want him to catch you, drop to his knees in the dirt in front of you and let you pile-drive his head with your meat. Sam looked down at his dick, standing tall like a flagpole, as he started stroking it.
Nobody would know if you were to chase Terry, catch him, overpower him like Derek had overpowered you. And he already knew Terry would love it, could already see the question, the hope in his eyes that their survival school weekend would turn into something more, another form of adventure…
Derek, Sam thought, the blood surging to his groin. “Derek,” he whispered out loud. Like a magic incantation, it was if the whole experience came back to him. Derek jumping out of the tree, tackling him, binding him, pulling his pants down and throwing him on top of a tree stump, about the size of this boulder, Sam thought, stroking faster now. If Derek were where now, it would be Sam on the bottom, Sam being used and abused…
Sam groaned, busting his nut, his tight core and big balls and swollen prostate working in concert to shoot a geyser of a load, like Mentos in Diet Coke. He pumped as long as he could stand to, until the sweet intensity of his orgasm became as fantastically painful as that last set, that lest rep of squats at the gym, leaving him spent and exhilarated.
Sam did something he’d never done before – he tasted his own cum as he wiped himself off. Salty, slippery, but clean, untainted, the taste of a man on a good diet, no drugs, little booze. He’d tasted Derek’s precum, his tight throat forcing the juices out of Derek’s dick that first time in the forest. But I never tasted his semen, his seed… Both times they’d fucked, Derek had cum in his ass, and after Derek hastily rolled off him after their second encounter, Sam had reached back and used Derek’s load as lube to jack himself off with. Sam had accepted, had reveled in the pleasure, the discovery, that he liked it. He liked being fucked in the ass! It felt GREAT!
His reverie was shattered by the sound of feet on crispy pine needles. He got to his feet as Terry came back to camp and threw down the evergreen branches he’d cut, a questioning look on his face.
Sam nodded. “These are good. The right size, nice and thick, the needles are fresh, not dry. They’ll make us a good roof.”
Terry beamed with pleasure. He was the third student of Sam’s survival school, and this was Sam’s third weekend without a day off, thanks to this part time job. And that was fine. That was great, actually. He was doing what he wanted to do with his life, doing what made him feel alive, doing what he was made for.
The lean-to was coming together. It was hard work given the materials at hand, but that was the point of it. Sam wasn’t a lecturer; he taught by questioning, letting his students figure it out for themselves.
“So how are we going to build a shelter here?” he’d asked Terry when they stopped for the day, early enough in the afternoon to give them plenty of time to set up a makeshift camp.
Terry had looked around, thinking. All Sam’s students had homework before they came out into the wild with him. The FM 21-76 Army Survival Manual was required reading, and the whole weekend was the quiz on the material.
Recalling the options in the book, Terry said, “Hmm…No poncho to prop up. No vines around here to tie any poles together. Poles we’d have to make out of branches. I don’t know how you’d get them to stay up…”
“How did they build log cabins in the old days?”
Terry smiled. “Aha! We have to notch the branches to lock them together!”
“Great job.” Terry had looked down at the ground, beaming with pleasure, with pride, and Sam had felt it too, felt it for him and for himself. Then Terry had figured out on his own that the “roof” would need to be made of evergreen branches laid on thickly enough they’d provide shelter and hold in some heat.
Now the shelter was almost done. “Why don’t you go and find us some water,” Sam said, “and I’ll finish up. You remember where the water is?”
“I heard a stream…back that way,” Terry said, pointing down the hill and to the right.
“Yep. Go for it.” Sam watched to make sure Terry didn’t forget the water purification tablets.
Sam took a moment to savor the moment. The sun was going down but it was still a pleasant day, in the 60s at this altitude, around 7000 feet. The wind was light and low, just enough to sound like a long sigh as it brushed through the pine needles. His leg muscles ached pleasantly from the steep hike; Terry had used trekking poles but Sam had relished the pain of using only his lower body to make the ascent. Shelter, food, water, were all at hand. And, he smiled to himself, he’d just busted one hell of a nut. It almost felt like a vacation to Sam, but going on vacation didn’t put five hundred bucks in your pocket.
When Terry came back, they worked together to start the campfire. Sam’s first instinct was always not to light a fire – the enemy could see the light, the smoke, the pursuers could zero in on you that way…hard to break the habit of so many years, hard to remember that fire was your friend.
They cooked up some dehydrated beef stroganoff. “I can’t believe how good this tastes,” Terry said. “I mean, I tried a package of it at home last week and it was…” he shrugged. “Edible. Nothing I’d serve at a dinner party.”
Sam smiled. Terry was one of the gym’s regulars, and a friend of Eddie’s. Blond, slim, trim, gay as a goose, but genuinely interested in seeing what he was capable of in the great outdoors, and a real trouper, game for anything Sam wanted to do. That sounded prejudiced, Sam thought. Gay guys aren’t all interior designing sissies. But Terry had surprised him – he was an indoors kind of guy, but he hadn’t complained once on this outing about anything Sam had suggested, or required.
“After a hard day’s hiking and foraging and shelter building, pretty much anything tastes better than it would otherwise.”
“I’ll say.” They finished their meals in companionable silence. Sam’s previous two clients had also been office dudes, but the outdoors had made them nervous. No cell service up here, if Sam had even let them bring cell phones, which he didn’t. No Internet. No TV. The silence made some people freak out, at least a little, and they felt compelled to fill it with chatter. But Terry seemed to enjoy it, as Sam did, the freedom from the burden of having to keep running, going, doing – the ability, which maybe only exhaustion could give some people, to rest, relax, appreciate it all.
“Ready for bed?” Sam asked, and he couldn’t help but notice Terry flush.
They unrolled their sleeping bags underneath the lean-to, over the thin pads that at least kept the pointier rocks from stabbing them. Sam had Terry take the inside position, so that Sam would bear the brunt of the cold and serve as a second wall. The temperature was dropping quickly as night set in.
Sam wasn’t ready to sleep yet. He liked the outside position, because he could look up at the night sky, let his mind wander around up there. It was times like this that he could let himself reflect on how much had changed in his life in the last four months.
Four months now, since the last time he’d seen Derek. Since he’d beaten Derek’s crew of man hunters, but lost to Derek in a fight, submitted to Derek, let Derek stick that big fat cock in his ass and pound the shit out of it…
Sam felt himself growing hard at the thought. He could jack off four times a day if he let himself, so the orgasm of a few hours ago was like ancient history to his groin. For a while it had freaked him out, how much thinking about his times with Derek turned him on. I’m not gay! he would shout at his cock. Stop it! His cock had only shrugged and demanded another date with his hand. He’d known the ancient maxim, true for the Greeks, the Romans, the Vikings…every warrior society had shrugged at a man who fucked another man – it was the man getting fucked who was the shamed one, the unmanned one.
I don’t feel unmanned, he thought, hands behind his head, staring at the stars. But he had spent the last four months without sex. Without even watching porn. Rubbing one out in the shower when his boner wouldn’t go away, just to keep his prostate healthy. Why? Why not? What was he waiting for?
He heard Terry shiver, heard the slight chatter of his teeth. “You cold?”
“Y…y…yeah,” Terry said.
Sam rolled over, unzipping his sleeping bag and making it into a blanket for himself and Terry. Sam always ran hot anyway, so it was no loss to him to share it. He spooned up against Terry’s back, Terry’s sleeping bag between them. Sam wrapped one big strong arm around Terry, who was clearly startled by it.
“I’ve got enough body heat for two. You’ll be fine in a minute.”
Terry nodded. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Terry was a regular at Downtown Fight Academy, where Sam worked the front desk. Not a fighter, but he worked out there because his friend Eddie did, and it was a comfortable place for him, a place where nobody gossiped or loitered or gave a shit about you one way or the other, really, if you weren’t a dick, if you did your business and didn’t hog the weights or leave them unracked. His body was lean, tight, admittedly a gym body and not a sports body, but still, firm underneath Sam’s grasp.
Terry subtly, almost without thinking about it, tentatively pushed his rump back against Sam’s hips. Sam played it cool. Terry’s ass was firm, but soft…Sam could feel his cock wanting to straighten up, align itself with Terry’s ass crack like the sun through Stonehenge’s pillars, close the gap, find the hole and fill it…
Since the last time Derek had fucked him, Sam had wondered what it would be like to fuck another guy. What was it like to be the one in charge, the one in control? How far would he go? Would he be able to cut loose like Derek, to take charge and just…totally fucking dominate and use another man? Just fucking have at it again and again, heedlessly, until…
He stopped himself. He thought of soggy vegetables and Donald Trump and anything else that would keep his dick soft. Terry was his student. Terry had paid him, had entrusted him with his life – okay, that was a bit dramatic, since they weren’t really lost, weren’t really in danger, but still. He had a responsibility, a professional relationship.
“If you want to…” Terry said tentatively.
“Thanks, I’d…” I’d what? He asked himself. Fuck the shit out of you under any other circumstances, make you fucking scream when I punch your prostate with my cock, let you scream all you want, way out here where nobody would ever hear you, nobody would come to your rescue?
“Let’s get you warm and get some rest. We have a long hike back out tomorrow.”
“Okay. Sorry,” Terry said, embarrassed.
Sam wrapped his other arm around Terry, over his shoulder and under his head, pillowing it, and hugged him. “Nothing to be sorry about. Men do a lot of things together in the woods, you know, that nobody ever knows about.”
Terry laughed, relieved. “Especially when it’s cold.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, especially then.”