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| Part 3 by Castgimp |
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| When I woke up again it was light out. I had no idea what time it was, but we had clearly slept well into the morning, as the light coming through the tent walls was bright. I remember thinking that it looked almost unnaturally bright. Ben was still asleep, his arms wrapped loosely around my chest. I was a bit disoriented, and a bit bewildered. It took me a few moments to recall exactly our circumstances. I remembered almost immediately that Ben had hurt his ankle, but I was far less clear about why his arms were wrapped around my chest and what that might mean. As the veils of sleep lifted and the morning focused itself more clearly for me, I also became painfully aware that the current hard-on I was sporting was not the result of Ben's naked proximity, but was instead the direct result of the fact that I was in desperate need of taking a piss. Ben looked so peaceful sleeping next to me that I didn't want to wake him, but I really had to take a leak. My usual early morning piss routine when we were wilderness camping was to just pull on my boots and make a dash for the trees, butt naked. Given the current temperature, I was trying to decide whether I needed to get more dressed than that. It was cold enough that I could see my breath inside the tent. I knew that I should probably at least pull on a sweatshirt, but I didn't know where there was a dry one and my need to piss was becoming increasingly urgent. Reluctantly I extricated myself from Ben's cradling arms and from the warmth of the sleeping bag as carefully and quietly as I could. Ben stirred, and rolled over, but didn't seem to wake up. I crawled on my knees toward the door of the tent and pulled my boots on over my bare feet. I unzipped the front tent flap and stuck my head out and was almost blinded by the white light. Bright mid-morning sunshine was reflecting off of new fallen snow. Crisp winter air filled my lungs as I sat back on my heels in disbelief. "What's up man?" It was Ben leaning up on his elbows, still wrapped in the downy warmth of the big double sleeping bag. As I turned to look at him I could see that a bright sunbeam had fallen directly across his face. He was squinting and blinking and rubbing his eyes. "You're not going to fucking believe it!" I turned my back on Ben to look outside again and experienced for the second time complete disbelief as I surveyed the blanket of white that covered the landscape. "What?" "It fucking snowed." "You're shitting me." "I swear to God. Look!" I pulled the tent flap back all the way so that he could see. "Fuck! How much?" "I don't know. Looks like four or five inches. Maybe more." "Fuck. So what do we do now?" "I have no fucking idea." I let go of the tent flap and it fell closed, shutting out the bright light. We hadn't really made a plan. In the back of my mind I had sort of been hoping that a good night's sleep would do a world of good for Ben's ankle, and that somehow he'd be able to limp down the mountain to our car this morning. Alternately, I had been prepared to leave Ben in the tent and make my way down to the car to get some help. There was no doubt about the fact that five inches of snow complicated both of those plans. Hobbling down the mountain with an injured ankle was one thing, but hobbling down the mountain with an injured ankle through new fallen snow was an entirely different thing altogether. And as for leaving Ben alone on the mountain in the snow with an ankle he couldn't walk on, I wasn't sure that was something I was prepared to do. There was no guarantee that I would be able to get down the mountain through the snow, find help, and get back to him before it got dark. I turned again to look at Ben. "How's your ankle?" I asked hopefully. "I don't know. It feels stiff. And kind of achy. We should probably look at it." "Yeah. I gotta take a piss first." "Me too." "Tell you what buddy. I'm just going to piss out the front door here. You have any problem with that?" Normally, neither Ben nor I would ever have dreamed of pissing out through the front of the tent. One of the cardinal rules of camping was that you never fouled your entryway. You always pissed some distance from the tent. But under the current circumstances, it seemed like a good option to me. I was figuring that once I got dressed I would go outside and cover up the yellow snow so that we didn't have to walk in it, but right now I really really had to piss. "Go for it Mike. I'm right behind you." So I knelt there with just my boots on and pissed long and hard out onto the new snow. I shivered as the cold morning air rushed into the relative warmth of the tent. Despite the cold, pissing out into the blue and white morning felt great. I shook my pecker vigorously, knocking the last drops of moisture off my cock and into the snow. I felt a great sense of relief. With the urgent pressure in my bladder finally abated, I felt calmer, and thought that maybe now I'd be able to think more clearly. I knew I needed to come up with some sort of plan to get us out of our dilemma. As much fun as it was to be naked with Ben in a tent, I knew we had a very serious situation on our hands. I wasn't ready to panic yet, but there was an alarm going off in my head and a cold finger of anxiety probing my backside that was keeping me on edge. I sat down on the floor of the tent and kicked off my boots while Ben pulled himself gingerly out of the sleeping bag. I could tell by the way he moved that he was still in pain, and almost immediately any hope I'd had that he might be able to walk down the mountain this morning evaporated into the cold air. I watched as he managed to get himself up on his hands and knees and crawl toward the door of the tent. He winced as he moved forward. I could tell he was trying to keep all of his weight off of the bandaged foot and ankle, which made his movements tentative and awkward. I reached my hand out to steady him, and then knelt behind him and supported his back as he perched on one knee and pissed as long and hard as I had out into the snow. Kneeling behind him and staring at his naked back I was suddenly aroused. I no longer cared about Ben's ankle or about our predicament. I just wanted to fuck. More than anything I longed to run my finger along the crack of his ass. I wanted to pull Ben backward into the tent on top of me. I wanted to lock my open mouth on his. I wanted to spread his cheeks and push my finger up inside his warm tight ass. I wanted Ben to want me to fuck him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life naked in this tent with Ben, grinding our bodies together, and humping each other until we were exhausted and sore. My bacchanal fantasy evaporated with the diminishing arc of Ben's strong yellow stream of morning piss. When he was done I eased him back down onto the sleeping bag so that he could lie down, and zipped the tent flaps closed to try to preserve what little warmth remained in the tent. "OK," I said. "Let's take a look at that ankle." "Be careful." "I will. I promise." I knelt at the end of the sleeping bag, just beyond Ben's feet. Carefully, I lifted his bandaged ankle in my hands and slowly unwound the elastic bandage. Even before I had the bandage all the way off I could see that his ankle was swollen. Where the night before I had held a finely chiseled ankle in my hand, this morning that definition was gone. I raised his other ankle up to compare the two, and the difference was obvious. The outside of his injured ankle was raised up like a muffin top, a symmetrical half circle about three inches in diameter instead of the hard round knob of his ankle bone on the other side. That was the most obvious distortion, but the rest of his ankle joint seemed slightly swollen as well, and his skin held the marks from the elastic fabric, so that his foot and ankle were striped with slight indentations from the edges of the bandage. In some places even the texture of the surface of the bandage itself seemed to have left its impression on his skin. But there was no bruising or discoloration, and as the night before, there didn't appear to be any obvious displacement. His foot and ankle lined up the way they were supposed to. I'd always heard that badly injured ankles swelled up like grapefruits, but this was far less dramatic. In fact if I didn't know how narrow his ankle normally appeared, and if the other ankle weren't there for comparison, it would have been hard to tell that he was injured at all. "How's it look man?" "It looks kind of swollen." "It feels kind of swollen. Kind of stiff." "Can you move it?" "Yeah, a little bit." He rotated his foot for me to demonstrate, but I could see him wince in pain as he moved. "You think you can put any weight on it?" "I don't know man." There wasn't room in the tent for him to stand up and try to put some weight on it, but I had an idea. "Here, put your foot against my chest." "What?" "Put your foot on my chest." I took Ben's calf in my hand and gently guided his foot to my chest, placing his bare foot flat against my skin. His leg was bent at the knee, at about ninety degrees so that his shin was a straight line in front of me. His heel was just below my sternum and his big toe extended up toward my throat, almost touching my Adam's apple. I loosely cupped his calf with my hand to steady his leg. "Now what?" he asked. "Push." "Push?" "Try to push your foot against my chest." "O.K." I could feel his calf contract in my hand as he extended his hip and pushed his foot gently against me. "Does that hurt?" "Yeah man. That hurts." I could feel him easing up and trying to pull his foot back. Instinctively I tightened my grip on his calf and pulled his leg toward me, pressing his foot more firmly against my chest. "Ow! What are you doing man?" I continued to pull his leg into my chest, pressing his heel firmly against the indentation of my sternum. "Fuck! Mike! Stop! That hurts!" He was actively trying to pull his foot away, and I was trying to hold his foot against my chest. I could not have explained what I was doing. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stop myself. For some reason hurting Ben was turning me on. I needed to make him squirm, and couldn't seem to stop myself. Holding his foot against my chest felt like about the sexiest thing I'd ever done. "Where does it hurt?" I asked him, almost breathlessly, continuing to pull his foot into my chest. I was horrified and fascinated by my actions. My dick was hard as a rock. "My ankle! Mike stop!" I eased up on the pressure. "I'm sorry Ben. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to find out what's wrong. Can you point to the place that hurts? Can you touch it for me?" I was improvising wildly now, and was feeling terribly guilty and incredibly turned on. "Here," he said, "right here." He reached up and touched a spot on the outside of his ankle, right in the center of the swelling. "That's where it hurts man." "Here?" I asked, putting my finger on the spot. I squeezed gently. "Ouch. Shit. Yes. Right there." I squeezed again. I couldn't stop myself. Ben squealed, but he didn't pull his foot away. Then for the first time I noticed that Ben's cock was also hard against his lower abdomen. "Well, I don't know if it's broken or not," I said as I eased Ben's foot and ankle back down onto the sleeping bag, though I was pretty sure that it was. "But I don't think you can walk down the mountain to the car on that thing." "No way Mike." He had his eyes screwed shut, I assumed from the pain, though I considered the possibility that maybe his erection embarrassed him. I stared at his face. Tiny tears rolled down the side of his cheeks, squeezed out from his tightly clenched lids. At that moment he was the most beautiful, sexy, vulnerable man I had ever seen in my entire life. I wanted him, and I was going to take him. I didn't know where it was going to end, but I knew I had to take the plunge. Before he could open his eyes I swooped down on him, taking his stiff cock in my mouth. I felt his body jerk with surprise, and he cried out as he sucked in his breath, but he didn't pull away or try to pull me off of him. I opened my throat and lowered my lips all the way to his groin, grinding my nose into his dark pubic hair. As I moved my mouth up and down his stiff cock he began to gently rock his hips, moving his ass on the sleeping bag and slowly fucking my face. I was kneeling between his legs sucking his cock, trying with every bit of control I had not to reach over and grab his injured ankle. I wanted to hold his broken ankle while I sucked his cock, for reasons I cannot begin to explain, even now, even to myself, but I knew I had already pressed my luck farther than I should have, and I focused all of my energies instead on Ben's amazingly eager cock. In and out of my mouth it slid, hard and wet and slick with spit and precum. I fondled his balls and caressed the tight lips of his asshole while I sucked. It was those tight lips that I wanted to penetrate, but for now, sucking his cock was heaven enough and more certainly than I had ever hoped for. Ben's hips began to shudder and he pumped faster and he grabbed the back of my head and forced his cock deep into the back of my throat where he exploded a huge load of cum. I swallowed and gagged and swallowed and milked his cock for every last sweet drop of semen. Finally I leaned back on my haunches to catch my breath. Ben's eyes were still screwed shut. He wouldn't look at me. There was a heavy silence as we both caught our breaths. The direct sun on the dark fabric walls was beginning to heat up the tent, but it was still cold as hell, and our breath came in steamy clouds. "Ben," I said, finally breaking the silence, "are you OK?" "Yeah. I'm fine." His eyes popped open and he looked at me. "I'm fine." "Are you cold?" "Yeah. I'm freezing." "Do you want to get back in the sleeping bag?" "Not yet." "Not yet?" "Not until I help you with this." Ben reached forward and grabbed my straining cock with his hand and wrapped his fingers around it. "Come here man." He pulled on my cock, urging me closer to him. I scooted forward on my knees, and he sat up, hunching his shoulders over as he tentatively took my cock into his mouth. "Oh man that feels good," I exclaimed as I threw my head back and closed my eyes. "Fucking good." Ben moved his lips over my cock and I thrust my hips gently into his face. It was true that he was tentative in his movements, but he knew what he was doing. It occurred to me that this was not the first time Ben had had someone's cock in his mouth. That thought gave me pause. Who was this man I was sharing a tent with? I wasn't distracted for long, however. His firm lips and his warm mouth were drawing me ever closer to climax, and I needed to shoot in the worst way. I was almost there, when suddenly we both froze. There were heavy crunching footsteps outside in the snow. Neither one of us moved. I was seized with something like terror. Slowly I eased my dick out of Ben's mouth, trying not to make any noise. The crunching was coming closer. "HELLO! IS ANYONE IS THERE?" The voice was gruff, and male. I was in a complete panic. We needed help, but I had no idea who was out there. A vision of our naked, bloodied, raped and murdered bodies flashed through my mind. I had seen Deliverance one too many times. And even if there was someone out there who could legitimately help us, how to explain our current naked, sticky state? I was hoping that if we didn't make any noise, whoever was out there would just go away. "THIS IS A NATIONAL PARK RANGER. IS ANYONE IN THERE? ARE YOU OK?" This time I could sense an edge of fear in the speaker's voice, and I realized we were not the only ones frightened. He didn't have any more idea who was inside the tent than we had about who was outside the tent; for all he knew we might come out with guns blasting. Somehow the woods seemed to heighten our natural fear of other human beings. "Help! Yes! We need some help!" It was Ben. I looked at him like he was crazy. "Hang on! Hang on!" I yelled immediately. "I'll be out in a minute." "Sir! Are you alright?" It was the Ranger. He probably thought I was murdering Ben. "Yeah. I'm fine. Hang on." Ben had finally understood that we were naked and needed to get some clothes on before we invited this guy in. I was frantically dumping our packs out and looking for clothes we could pull on quickly. I squirmed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that was still damp from the night before. I threw a flannel shirt at Ben. He was going to need help getting pants on, but I wanted to stick my head outside and reassure this ranger guy that I was not in the process of strangling Ben. "Ben!" I whispered. "Here! Climb in!" I unzipped the side of the sleeping bag and helped him ease his naked legs inside so that he was covered from the waist down. He fumbled with the buttons on the flannel shirt while I unzipped the front tent flap and stuck my head outside. Once again I found myself blinking from the bright sun reflecting off of the snow. "Jasper Troutman. Park Ranger." "Mike. Michael Plummer," I said. "Good. We've been looking for you." "Looking for me?" "Your car is down at the trailhead. We traced the registration. When that snow came up last night, we were worried that you might be stuck. Or worse." "I can't believe you found us." "It wasn't hard. I'm just glad you're not stuck up on the summit. They got over a foot last night, with heavy drifting. Are there just two of you?" "Yeah. Me and Ben." "He said you need help?" "Yeah. He fell yesterday while we were hiking. Twisted his ankle I guess. He can't walk on it. We made it back to the tent last night but we weren't sure how to get down to the car." "Do you think it's broken?" "I don't know. Sprained or broken. This morning it's swollen up a bit." Then there was an awkward silence as we stared at each other. He was handsome-tall and dark and manly in his Park Service parka and hat. "We'll get you down the mountain. Can I come in?" "Um...sure. The tent's kind of a mess. And Ben's not...I mean we're not...I mean you woke us." "Mike, right?" "Yeah." "There's no need to be embarrassed. Trust me. I've seen it all." |
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