A lone hiker's unexpected encounter with a very hot cuckold couple.
*
Note: Based on a true story. Slow build. Some male on male contact. Consider yourselves warned.
1.
I'd become aware of the sound of pouring rain on my tent at some point during the evening, even as I was nestled comfortably in my sleeping bag. It was night six of an extended solo backpacking trip, traversing through the high granite of the Sierras. It was also the first stormy weather I'd seen. Everything to this point was warm bluebird days and vivid star filled nights. I'd been having an incredible, memorable time, and I was pretty sure that waking up to a wet tent would in no way diminish my joy. That said, little did I know just how much better things would get before my hike was over.
One of my great pleasures in life is wandering through wild places by myself. I like the beauty, the quiet, the challenge- both mental and physical- but no matter how many nights I spend alone miles from anywhere, there's always a slight sense of discomfort about it which I suppose is part of the attraction. It's a bit of loneliness and a smidgen of fear and just a hint of understanding that sometimes it's better to experience something beautiful with someone else by your side.
So, as I awoke that soggy morning in a break between downpours, I was content but a little bittersweet. Still missing the exceptionally lovely strawberry blonde named Anna who had flown off several weeks earlier for graduate school in Switzerland. We'd had a splendidly torrid multi-month fling, always knowing that the clock was ticking until her departure, but very much enjoying each other in every way regardless, maybe even falling a tiny bit in love. This trip to the mountains was certainly a way to help ease some of the sting of her departure and let me clear my head a bit.
As I stuffed my soaking wet tent into a plastic bag and pushed it to the bottom of my pack, I looked around. The rain had let up, but I was still surrounded by an early morning envelope of rock and fog, both of which the same general shade of battleship gray. Clouds blew through on intermittent gusts and dark patches hinted at heavy weather beyond. I was pretty sure that there was more rain in my future.
I travel light in the mountains, even on extended trips, and after a quick job of packing, I ate a simple cold breakfast and started to move, letting my muscles warm up, slowly awakening myself to the light, space, and sounds of the landscape around me. I'd left the trails behind on day two and had just been crossing the high country since, staying on ridge tops whenever possible, dropping into drainages when need be, soaking my feet in high alpine lakes, and stretching out on sun warmed ledges when it was time for a break. It had been days since I'd seen any other people, and the isolation and space were feeling increasingly comfortable.
The motion of walking is meditation to me. The rhythm of movement and the feeling of strong muscles pushing and pulling me forward sets my mind at ease. The morning chill evaporated with exertion and I relaxed into a steady pace, quicker than would be comfortable for most people, but well short of running. With everything I needed on my back, no real agenda other than a general direction, and splendid vistas all around, I was about as close as I get to truly content.
When I felt the first drops of rain return after an hour or so of moving, there was no break in my stride or mindset. It was mid-summer, and even if the sun never came out, it was still far from cold, and the rain was refreshing, despite the chill of early morning.
Soon the occasional drops increased in size and frequency and I could hear the sound of the rock coming alive with falling water. I picked up my pace slightly, wiped my forehead, and hopped from rock to rock, climbing a long fin of jumbled stone towards a distant peak.
2.
It was late-afternoon and according to my best guess and map more than twenty miles had passed since setting out. It was still raining, but maybe a bit less so. I was soaked to the bone regardless, drenched clothes clinging tightly to my lean frame, a little chilled, but enjoying things all in all. By the look of the sky to the west, I was guessing (and hoping) the worst of the weather was behind me. I was a bit tired, and I could feel my muscles, but the climbing had been steady more than steep and the footing fairly solid, so I was in good shape all in all.
As I crested the next rise, I looked down far below me and saw a small glacial tarn filled with clear water and surrounded by a scattering of windswept trees working hard to carve out an existence in the harsh alpine. It was, I knew at once, a perfect place to camp for the night.
I headed down at a good pace, eager to stop. It wasn't that late in the day, but I had covered plenty of ground and saw no real need to push on. As I neared my chosen spot, I came upon a narrow trail winding through the moss and low plants, the first sign of mankind in several days at least, other than the occasional plane in the sky. The ground was wet and soggy and there were no signs of tracks on the beaten path. I felt good knowing that my solitude was unlikely to be disturbed and quickly set up my tent by the side of the lake.
Just as I was finishing, the first rays of sun hinted their way out from behind a diminishing cloud. Nothing brilliant, nothing hot, but it bode well for the future. I strung a thin line between two of the stunted trees and stripped down, hanging my shorts, shirt, and socks to dry.
It felt good to be free of my pack and the wet cling of my clothes, and I stretched my arms out over my head. My muscles creaked a bit in protest, and I walked across the cool rock towards the lake.
When it comes to swimming, I'm a jumper, not a tip-toer, and this time was no exception. The intake of my breath was sharp, the cold was sudden, and my heart was stopped, for at least a moment I'm sure. But as is nearly always the case, I settled down, caught my breath, and took a few strokes out towards the middle. I scrubbed myself a bit as I floated, removing layers of mud and trail grime, feeling the miles fade into a pleasant, if rather icy memory.
As I turned back to shore and hauled myself out on a flat ledge, the sun came out a bit more so I could feel just the tiniest shine of warmth on my skin. It felt marvelous- and that feeling of appreciating the little things is a big piece of why adventures like this are so important to me. Smiling to myself, I felt perfect. I was fit and strong, healthy, tan, and grizzled. I was refreshed. And while I still missed Anna, and thought briefly of how much she'd love this place, I was soon buried in my pleasure for this moment, and really felt incredibly lucky to be enjoying it, even if a bite sized chunk of my heart was now studying quantum physics in the middle of the Alps.
My body dried in the sun, and I returned to my tent, pulling out a pair of tight black boxers from my pack and slipping them on. I chuckled to myself about why in the world I'd need clothes in a place like this- and decided maybe it was just because I liked the way they snugged up against my cock. I started pulling out a little food to eat, a bag of nuts, a block of cheese. The calories went down fast and I finished off a bottle of water before finding a spot in the ever increasing sunlight to stretch out and take a well deserved nap.
3.
My head was in a pleasant blissed out state when I first awoke but my relaxed mood soon faded. The sun was settling in behind the sharp ridge to the west, and much to my chagrin I could hear the faint sound of voices. My first thought was shit. My second thought was that if I just stayed here, stretched out in a skimpy pair of underwear and pretend to be asleep, maybe they'll feel awkward and just pass on by. Last thing I wanted was to have to share this incredible spot with anyone. Probably some group of overly earnest Eagle Scouts or 45 year old dudes putting their bum knees and families on hold for a summer adventure. I wasn't really interested in sharing my night with them.
As I lay there, the voices came into focus. A man's voice, clearly tired, but with a hint of humor. Saying something about his legs, and the rain and being exhausted. "Uh oh," I figured to myself, "they're staying". And then another voice, a woman's, closer by, clear and bright. A gentle teasing, mixed with a hint of encouragement. Their words became sharper as they neared, though they were still out of sight and on the other side of a slight rise. I kept my eyes closed and tried to look both asleep and unfriendly.
"I can't wait to get out of these wet clothes," the guy whined a bit. "I'm starting to get chilled."
The woman's voice now. "We'll find a spot soon, and I'm right there with you on the change of clothes."
"Though that means I won't be able to check out your ass so easily if you take off those wet shorts," the man laughed as he spoke.
"Don't worry honey, you can admire my ass anytime you want," and then I heard footsteps for the first time, crunching on loose rock. Those steps followed by a pause and then a long drawn out "Hmmmmmmm," before her saying, "You're in luck lover, I think we've found just the spot for the night. Come take a look at this view."
They were clearly still a ways away, and probably had no idea their voices were carrying so far as their words echoed off the granitic basin and crossed the lake to my increasingly curious ears. I heard their steps and breathing, and in my head pictured the two of them on a slight hill to my left, looking down at the lake, the trees, my tent, and my body for the first time.
He coughed slightly, then spoke, "What are the odds of finding such an incredible spot up here, and for it to have someone camped in it already?" I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
"Don't be such a pessimist," she countered, "more importantly, what are the odds that we'd find a campsite occupied by what would seem to be a very attractive, fit, and half naked man stretched out on a rock?"
He laughed. "For you my dear, these sorts of things seem to follow you about, so the odds were probably quite high- though I'd never have predicted it."
"Come on," she urged him, "let's see what we're dealing with here. Keep quiet and let me do the talking."
At this point I was some mix of aroused, amused, and nervous as hell. I lay still for a minute more, and then made a show of stretching my arms up over my head, yawning, rubbing my eyes, and sitting up slowly, staring out across the lake, feigning obliviousness to the pair behind me. And then, as if startled, I turned quickly at the sound of footsteps, making a slight sound of surprise.
"Um, oh. Hello. Strange place to run into folks. I was just napping a bit. Wet day." I sounded a bit nervous, but it was primarily an act. Mostly I was just interested in what these two were about and wanted to make them comfortable by letting them have the upper hand of surprise, for the moment anyhow.
"Yes, I noticed you from above," she was smiling as she spoke and she was, in a word, lovely. Dark hair tied back, with a hint of Spanish or maybe Argentine to her. Tall. She looked healthy, strong. She had on tight orange shorts, a white tank top. Her wet clothes clung to her frame like they were part of her. I felt a bit of the tension of instant attraction. She was lean, athletic. Some curves, but plenty of muscle mixed in among the soft feminine bits. I suddenly had a strong urge to see her from behind.
