My great-uncle owes 125 acres of wooded mountains. I spend so much time there that I feel like that it should rightfully be my property. That’s particularly true about the west side of the tract were a stony ridge drops down to a cove, a narrow valley with a creek running through it. In this cove, the trees grow exceptionally tall along the stream, and the earthy smells from the leaf litter, along with the light filtering through the dense canopy, give it a primeval quality. It’s cool here in the summer and it’s sheltered from the wind in the winter. As a bonus, the creek comes off of the rocky flank of the ridge as a 30 foot waterfall and drops into a pool 10 feet deep and 20 feet across.
This is my retreat and, when I’m here, I often forget that the rest of the world is not so far away. Under the granite overhang of the ridge, I have a permanent campsite set up in front of a small, shallow cave, where I stash supplies. That way, when I hike in the only things I need to bring with me are my sleeping bag and fresh food. Everything else is already there.
During the day I usually explore the ridges near by, but if the heat builds too much in the summer, I return to camp and strip off my clothes for a dip in the pool. The water is always cold, even in August. It will make you lose your breath and force your balls to pull up tight against your body, but on a very hot day the initial shock is worth it. Your whole body tingles long after you've climbed out. I typically stay naked for the rest of the day after a swim, which is okay since no one hikes into this cove but me. Even in the chill of late fall, I still get naked but, after skinny dipping, I drape a woolen blanket over my shoulders and sit bare-assed in front of a campfire.
One day last November, I got a got an unpleasant surprise when I reached the campsite. To make things worse, my nerves were already on edge from dodging hunters on the hike in. When I got there, there was a guy with a rifle snooping around in my cave. I heard him before seeing him and immediately took off the bright orange vest I had worn to keep from being shot by deer hunters. Near the pool, I hid in the shadow of the waterfall where I could watch him without being seen. I sat very still while he searched my camp discovering the brushed off area where I slept and the nook where I keep a few of bottles of wine and beer. He looked around to check that no one was watching then laid down his gun and rummaged through my cooking gear. He found a corkscrew, opened a bottle of my wine, then took a big swig.
"Bastard," I whispered to myself.
It was an unusually warm day for late November. The dude took off his hunting jacket and made himself comfortable on a boulder. He surveyed the cove while drinking my wine. It was about 1:00 in the afternoon and he was probably done hunting for the day. When he was half way through the bottle, he became visibly more relaxed and settled in. He put the bottle down, grabbed the base of his thermal shirt with both hands, and pulled it off over his head in one motion. Until that point, I couldn't really judge what he looked like, but when I saw that drum-tight abdomen, narrow waist, and muscular pecs with a light patch of hair between them my cock twitched and grew in my jeans.
The hunter stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Kicking his booted feet out in front of him, he slapped his hands down on his thighs with a loud pop. He vigorously rubbed the thick canvas of his hunting pants then reached down for the wine bottle. His free hand slid over and grabbed his crotch. Even from where I was, I could see his fingers squeezing his bulge. My dick lengthened even more and pumped squirt of pre-cum into my jeans. I heard the metallic click of a belt buckle and saw him set the bottle down and unbutton his fly with both hands. His feet dropped to the ground and he half stood up to push his pants down to his knees. He wore gray boxer briefs. Sitting back down, he reached for the bottle and took another drink. He tipped his head back and seemed to enjoy the warm Indian Summer breeze playing over his naked chest and legs. Soon a hand went back to his crotch. This time I could see the fabric of his briefs moving as he kneaded his pouch.
My dick was trapped painfully in my jeans so I very slowly unbuttoned my fly and released it. Since I always go commando, it flopped out immediately. I sighed as the breeze cooled the juiced-up tip of my cock. The hunter seemed to hear me. He paused with the bottle at his lips and listened for several seconds before drinking. Maybe the wine was making him distrust his senses. At any rate, he relaxed, pulled the waist band of his boxer briefs down, and hooked it under his balls. The sight of his semi-hard dick and large pushed up balls made my exposed cock jerk in the air. Pre-cum drooled down my shaft. Hiding and watching this hot guy gave me an huge adrenalin rush, and my fingers trembled as they closed around my dick to smear the leaking juice all around the head.
The hunter tugged at his prick, slowly working his way to the tip where he pinched the foreskin and stretched it well past the big lump of cock head that it covered. He sipped more wine then held the bottle tight against his loose ball sack. It must have been a little cold because I heard him sharply draw in air through his teeth. Nevertheless, he held it there and even moved it around, crushing and massaging his balls with it. His free hand moved up to a nipple. He twisted and pulled at it. He closed his eyes, spread his knees apart, and started swinging the bottle lightly against his balls, banging them with the hard, cold glass while reaching across his chest to work on the other nipple. After a minute of gently busting his own nuts, he held the neck of the wine bottle with both hands and pressed the bottom of it down into his ball sack. The pressure made his now hard dick rise up from his thigh and flop against the glass. I heard the heavy slap and clunk of dick hitting bottle. He groaned and kept working the bottle back and forth on his scrotum to make his cock beat itself against the glass.
This was the first time I had ever watched a guy enjoy his body without inhibitions. He didn't know I was there and he was working himself over, clearly getting off on it. When he first pulled down his briefs, I figured he would wrap his fist around his dick, pump it until it creamed, then pull up his pants and go. But this guy was into playing with himself and enjoying every long minute of it.
I had to snatch my own hand from my cock and bite down on the side of my finger to keep from cumming. When the urge to shoot subsided, I licked the pre-cum off of my fingers and palm. My dick vibrated with tension.
Over on the rock, the hunter removed the bottle from his crotch, set it on the ground, and leaned over to untie his boots. As he bent down his hard dick slid up against his abs and buried its foreskin covered head in the patch of hair between his pecs. I savored my own pre-cum thinking about the slimy trail his dick was leaving on his belly and chest. At that point, the urge to put his cock in my mouth was overwhelming. I reached for my quivering dick and squeezed more juice onto my finger, raised it to my mouth, and sucked it off.
After removing both boots, the guy peeled off his socks. As each sock came off, he massaged the foot for a few seconds. He then stood in bare feet and stepped out of his pants. He hooked his thumbs in the waist band of his briefs, slid them down, and stepped out of them. I got an awesome view of his melon-round ass and two heavy balls swinging low between his legs. I thought I saw a tuft of silky hair in his ass crack, but maybe that was just hungry imagination. He stood, completely naked, and rubbed his hands across his chest and tight stomach before turning to sitting his bare ass back down on the rock.
At this point he took a big swig of wine before rubbing the cool bottle across first the right nipple and then the left. His head tipped back as he groaned. My mouth dropped open when he leaned his torso back and raised his legs again to balance on his butt. With thighs tense and toes pointed, he poured a trickle of wine onto each nipple before drizzling it into the furrows of his abs. Wine ran down into his crotch, around his hard dick and over his balls. It flowed into the hairy crack of his ass and stained the rock he was sitting on. My mouth watered and my cock spit more pre-cum onto my fingers, which I quickly lapped off. My dick throbbed visibly with my pounding heart.
The hunter lowered his feet to the ground and sat up. He curled over with his mouth directly above his crotch. I thought I would cum without touching myself when a long drool of spit ooze from his lips and slimed his cock. As it landed his prick jerked up and down as the warm spit coated it. Three times he spit on himself, twice onto his cock and once onto his balls. Then he rubbed the slimy stuff into his sack with one hand and smeared it up and down his shaft with the other. As both hands rubbed in the spit, I looked at his face and knew he was oblivious to anything but that sensation. His eyes were closed and he held his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. One hand tugged at his balls and the other ran up and down his dick with a little twist around the head each time.
I rubbed my own cock as I watched him. There was so much adrenalin in my system that my whole body shook as I tried to decide whether to stay put and shoot my load on the ground or walk over and lick the wine off of his wet hairy chest. I had never caught anyone masturbating before and sort of wanted to hang back and see what else he would do to get himself off, but he was so damned hot. I knew I could shock and probably embarrass him if I walked up while he was naked and pounding his meat. That thought cinched it for me. Maybe the shock alone would cause him to cum when he saw me. If I timed it just right, he might pull his hand away just as his cock jerked on its own and spewed cream all over his tensed abs. That would be so hot!
Very slowly, I stood up. My dick was still poking out of my jeans as I stepped from my hiding place and stalked the hunter while he played with himself in front of my cave. His preoccupation with his own cock and balls made it possible for me to get almost to the rock where his beefy bare ass was squirming. I came up on him from behind and slightly to the right. Suddenly, he tensed and jerked around to look over his shoulder. I was a fully clothed stranger sneaking up on him and he froze. Unfortunately, the shock did not set off his orgasm. But his cock bounced and swirled as he twisted around to face me. He reached quickly to his left and it was my turn to be scared as I suddenly remembered he had a rifle. But instead of the gun, he grabbed his shirt and wadded it up in his lap to hide his dick and balls.
"What the fuck! Get out of here, asshole!" He yelled at me, converting his fear to aggression.
I responded in kind. "No way, motherfucker. You're in my god damned campsite and you're drinking my god damned wine!"
That deflated him a bit and after a second or two he stuttered, "Dude, man, I'm sorry, I was... I was just...oh, man, sorry, I..."
He was fully humiliated by the situation and hid his dick in under his shirt. I noticed his squared-off, scruffy face was exceptionally handsome. Then he went quiet and his eyebrows scrunched up as he noticed my cock sticking out of my fly.
"You were spying on me!" He accused, but he definitely kept staring at my dick.