A note to readers: This story is set in South Africa. There are Afrikaans phrases which I have translated and put in brackets thus (Sorry). Afrikaans is one of the official languages of South Africa and is the dominant language in the region I am describing.
For the spelling purists: Cederberg is an Afrikaans name and is correctly spelled. Translated it means Cedar Mountains.
The window opposite the double bed is filled with grey. Not shades of grey, just a dull, uniform grey. Early this morning the wind started bringing the cold and rain inland from the icy Atlantic until it was stopped by the Cederberg mountain range at which point it gave up, leaving the cold and grey behind like a discarded condom. Its been raining in a desultory manner ever since making hiking a non starter.
Yes I do have high tech water proofs and water proof boots, but I have that gear for when things go wrong and I get caught by bad weather. Now I do not get all tarted up in waterproof gear and then go out into the cold and wet for the fun of it. Twenty years ago my body would have insisted but now, thankfully it has seen the light and doesn't insist.
Twenty years ago I, and three friends had set out on a well known trail knowing a storm was coming, but confident we could make it to our usual rock shelter before the storm hit. We were all experienced hikers, young, fit and, in our foolish opinion, immortal. Not foolish enough however not to pack our wet weather clothing. We were confident that all would be well and the extra wet weather gear would not be necessary.
We arrived at the rock shelter as the rain started and were well settled in when another party arrived. Not a regular hiking party but a bunch of frothy, fluffy fashionistas who would nowadays have Instagram accounts with thousands of followers. They were on a hike to "try out the latest in hiking gear." All the latest materials and fabrics on display.
All but two of them arrived at the shelter and the storm was getting worse. After a brief consultation with Jean the leader of the new group, a strong, startlingly beautiful red headed woman, we decided that the fashionistas should stay in the shelter and the four of us would go back and find the strays.
We dug our wet weather gear out of our bags, kitted up and then headed out the storm admittedly a bit excited by the challenge.
The conditions were bad. Rain, heavy cloud and mist made the visibility next to zero. And it was cold.
A major problem was that the colour of choice for the fashionable hiking kit was black but brightened by splashes of grey. This is not easy to see in the dark which does possibly explain why Eric, leading our rescue team at the time fell over the first body. Actually body gives the wrong impression. What he fell over was a tiny, emaciated and semi conscious woman/child lying on her back in the stream. We picked her up and shook her into some sort of consciousness.
"Where is your boy friend?'
"Dunno."
"Further back?"
Silence.
"Cummon. Dammit! Talk to us. Where?" Dawid's patience wearing thin.
"Back there. "
She points the direction we came from.
Fuck. She is confused. Not surprising, she is barely conscious and time is rapidly running out for her with hypothermia setting in.
"Did you turn back?"
Dawid might have been short tempered but he was good at interrogation. He always made me feel a bit uncomfortable and I often wondered then if he would end up in some dark shadowy police force asking hard questions of people. In this case it turns out he asked the right question.
"No, and he was right behind me."
Dawid and I walk on, Eric and George start back to the shelter with the woman.
This time we see him before falling over him. He is just as skinny as the woman and appears to have been carrying both ruck sacks. He is not conscious so I swing him over my shoulders and carry him like a sheep. "Skaap dra" they called it in the army. Dawid takes up the ruck sacks. We trudge on back through the storm.
In those days I was extremely fit and strong, so carrying the tiny frame on my shoulders was not really an issue and we arrived about 10 minutes after Eric and George who had had to support the woman all the way back. The woman, Kitty was already wrapped in a space blanket next to the fire drinking hot coffee. I dumped the skinny guy on the ground and left him to the tender mercies of Eric and George. The fashionistas cowered in an untidy group around Kitty making inane cooing noises.
Despite my fitness, the walk carrying the guy on my shoulders had exhausted me so I stripped off down to my boxers and started to towel myself off. Wet weather gear isn't completely water proof and I had also sweated on the way back so I was covered in a slick layer of water and sweat. I closed my eyes and started to scrub my face enjoying the feeling of hard exercise, a rough towel and the warmth returning to my body.
"Let me do that for you," Female voice, soft, controlled. Jean the leader of the fashionista group. I did not resist but stood eyes closed, head thrown back.
Hands took the towel from me and started to rub me down. Firmly, sensuously the toweled hands moved slowly, firmly down my body.
"My, but you have a gorgeous body. Strong, fit and sculpted. Any red blooded woman would be aroused by you."
Thumbs tracing lines of fire down my belly, reach the elastic of my boxers and start pulling them down.
"Stop. Stop right there." I can feel my erection building.
"Why? Are you gay? Married? Committed relationship? Doesn't feel like your body is objecting. In fact, it seems most co-operative."
This followed by a sly chuckle.
My boxers are now down in my thighs and my cock is out and almost fully erect.
"No to any of those. Stop because I am not going to be able to restrain myself."
"So? My team know exactly what I am going to do and your buddies are not going to object. And anyway, I am very good and you are not going last very long so no one will really be sure."
She is now on her knees with my cock in her mouth. She is right though. She is very good and I cum in her mouth in what feels like seconds.
She stands up, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and my cock with my towel and then hands the towel back to me. She smiles faintly.
