Date: Sun, 7 Jun 2009 13:09:56 -0700
From: Oregon Bear <oregonbear9@gmail.com>
Subject: The Forest Ranger

This story contains graphic descriptions of adult gay consensual sex
between adult males.  If you are offended by this topic, or it is illegal
for you to read this, please leave this site.

			     The Forest Ranger

	It was getting late, and I'd spent the day hiking and exploring the
canyon.  The park campgrounds had just opened up a few weeks ago, and I
hadn't seen a single soul for several days.  My pickup and my tent trailer
were perfect for my two week vacation, getting away from it all and having
time for just being outdoors, with no schedule, no obligations.
	I'd worked up a good sweat on my hike and had reefed my sweaty
shirt and my boots, and had slipped on my sandals.  It was still warm
enough to keep my shorts on, though the evening promised to cool off.  It
has almost frosted last night, and I had my fleece sweatshirt out already.
It cooled off quickly in the mountains and I wanted the sweat to dry before
it started to get too cold.  I was looking forward to dinner, a few beers,
and playing my guitar by the fire.
	I was getting my dinner ready, and had just opened a beer when I
heard the low growl of a pickup and the slam of the door.  I looked up, and
watched the ranger stroll towards me.  He looked pretty official, in his
green, creased uniform, wearing a duty belt with his pistol and his radio.
His shorts fit him well, and I could see the thickness of his cock and
balls under the front of his shorts, his muscular, hairy thighs and calves
rippling as he walked towards me.
	"Evening," the tall, tanned ranger said, his moustache drooping a
bit over his upper lip, the five o'clock shadow creeping over his hard jaw
and his cheeks.  I could see tufts of curly black hair poking out of his
shirt, just above his badge, and his brass name plate.
	"Evening," I replied, my cock thickening a bit as I took in this
hunk that had wandered into my camp.  For the first person I'd seen for a
few days, this was a real treat, indeed.  I'd been getting pretty horny
lately, and this afternoon, I'd had some pretty detailed fantasies about
being taken by a strong outdoorsy man.  Maybe that dream was coming true,
at least that's what my cock was thinking.
	"Just checking campers to see if they have their permits and paid
their fees," he said, his deep voice resonating nicely in his deep,
muscular chest, behind that badge and the flag and forest service patches,
stretched tight over his well-defined shoulders.
	"Yeah, got that on the dash of my pickup, sir, "I replied.  "I
haven't seen anyone, let alone a ranger, for a couple of days.  I'm kind of
surprised to see you this far up the canyon."
	"Well, I'm the only one working in this part of the park, this time
of year.  And, I haven't seen anyone else camping up here for several
weeks.  So, I'm surprised, too."
	He looked at my permit, and I was able to steal a good look at his
well-trimmed moustache, his steel blue-gray eyes, and the outline of his
nipples, poking against his shirt, just next to the crisp pleat that ran
down to his duty belt, his shorts, and that nice bulge that lay just
beneath his belt.  My balls filled a bit at the thought of what was under
there, just a pull of a zipper away.
	"Well, you're legal, so I'll leave you to your dinner," he
said. "If you need anything, I'm camped down the road a bit, at Smith
Creek.  I'll be there for another day, until the end of my work week."
	"Oh, don't run away so fast, Mr. Ranger," I said.  "It's late
enough that I bet you're at the end of your day, and you look like you
could use a beer.  Why don't you just go off duty now and take a load off,
and relax with a cold one."
	"Well, I am at the end of my shift, and, well, I'll take you up on
that," he said, moving over by the fire and sitting his tight, firm buns
onto a log.  "It's been a long day and I am a bit thirsty."
	I handed him a cold beer and we talked a bit, about bears and
wolves and where to find the best patch of spring wildflowers, and where to
find the biggest fish along the creek.  As I took a sip from my beer, I
caught him taking a good look at my crotch, checking me out, and when I
looked at his shorts again, I thought he looked just a bit bigger inside of
there.
	"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," I thought, and I began to cast
my lure out a bit, to see if the fish were biting tonight.  I suspected
this big fish was, as he had a pretty lonely job and he'd taken me up on my
offer of a beer.  I hadn't put on my shirt yet, and so I knew he'd checked
me out pretty good.  I was in pretty good shape, and had been working out
at the gym for the last couple of months, getting ready for my hiking trip,
and working off some of the stress at work.  I'd been hiking every day
stripped to the waist, and the pale skin of the winter was gone, replaced
by a pretty good tan.
	I flexed my shoulder and my bicep a bit, as I sipped my beer,
hoping he'd look, and he did.  I could tell this fish was ready to bite and
hopefully I could set the hook, after a couple more casts.
	The beer went down pretty fast, and he took me up on my offer of a
second one.  As I handed it to him, his hand grazed my finger, and I felt
his warmth, and saw that he was sweating just a bit, his heart rate up,
like he was nervous.  He's the one here with the badge and the gun, and I'm
the half naked hiker.  Maybe he just likes what he sees and wants something
more than another beer, I thought.
	"I've just about lost my ice and I've got two steaks left.  How
about helping me solve that problem and let me cook you a steak dinner," I
said.  "Besides, it's probably a better meal than what the government
provided for your dinner tonight."
	He laughed, saying that he was down to freeze dried lasagna and
baked beans.
	"Well, I don't want to impose on you anymore than I already have,"
he said.  "But, you seem like a really nice guy and, well, I could use some
company, too.  And, helping campers is one of the important tasks of my
job," he chuckled.
	"Good enough.  I'll get started on that, and you can relax a bit.
Take off your boots and stay a while, I said.  "And, that ranger shirt
looks pretty hot and sweaty.  I've got a spare tank top and you can just
slip that on and cool off."
	"That's the best offer I've had all week, except for the beer," he
laughed.
	And, in a flash, I was treated to the sight of his bare chest and
rippled belly, covered with a nice coat of fur, and red, plump nipples and
thick patches of fur under his arms, as the ranger shirt was tossed over
the log, and replaced by my tank top.  It was a bit tight on the ranger
man, but neither one of us seemed to mind.  My cock twitched a bit at the
sight of his hard, muscular shoulders, and the tightness of the thin tank
top across his chest and hard belly.  My mouth watered a bit at the thought
of tasting those plump big nipples and rubbing my face across that hard,
hairy chest, while my fingers found his zipper and sought out his bulge in
his shorts.
	It was going to be a warm evening, and my mind drifted off,
imagining our dinner together, good conversation, getting to know him.
And, then, when dinner was done, I'd set my hook and reel him in.
	I'd take my hand and run it up his thigh, feeling the warmth and
the muscles and the softer skin that was on the inside of his thigh.  And,
then, I'd move a bit higher, a bit more inside, a bit more, well, intimate.
And, I'd keep moving until my fingers were splayed across that bulge in his
shorts I'd been admiring the last hour.  And, I'd feel its warmth, its
heat, its heftiness, its fullness.
	And, then, I'd find that long, thick snake that lay over his balls,
and I'd run my fingers down its length, until I felt the ridge that ran
just below the top of his cockhead, and I'd feel its firm, damp shape,
under the cloth of his shorts.  I'd rest my hand there, for a minute or
two, the head of my hand against the head of his manhood, so he'd get to
know me, so he'd realize I knew what I was doing there, and what I wanted,
and what he wanted.  So we both knew where this was going.
	We would have all evening, all night.  He wasn't going back to his
campsite.  He was going to stick around here, stay next to me, let my hands
roam across his crotch and the tightness of that shirt, where my fingers
would caress and explore his thick, plump nipples and the curls of thick
hair that splayed across his hard, furry chest, and into the heat and sweat
of his forested armpits.
	He would chuckle and moan a bit, as I ripped the thin cloth of the
shirt, the sound harsh and clean in the quiet of the camp, only the sound
of the creek and the last songs of the birds competing against our moans
and sighs, as he would stand bare chested and nearly naked next to me,
until our naked chests would touch, until he would feel my hot, eager fur
and aching nipples hard against his pecs, until he would feel the hardness
of my own cock, as I pushed my hips against him.  He would know my hunger,
my ache for him.
	And, we would answer our needs and our hunger, and soon, our shorts
and the rags left from his shirt would be tossed against the log, and we
would roll and lay hard against each other in the grass by the river,
tasting and sucking and fondling each other, man against man, cock against
cock.  And the evening would slowly turn to night, as we took each other,
hard and furious, until long ropes of pearly white cum would rise and
splash against hard, hungry muscles and hair, mixing with lusty sweat and
the moans of two lovers, rising to the mountains and yelling to the world
that they had reached their climax and had exploded their seed at last.
	As the moon rose, we would lie in each other's arms, sweat and cum
drying slowly in the night air, cocks laying wet against the hair of each
other's balls and crotches, and drying in long white strands against our
chests and bellies, as we regained our breaths and told each other,
finally, our names.
	Soon, the steaks were cooking on the grill over the fire, and the
ranger was busy slicing up the last of my veggies for a salad.  We dove
into the big meal and soon had steak juices and grease running down our
chins, and a bit of foam from the beer across our moustaches.  We sat next
to each other on the log in front of the fire, as I hadn't brought a chair
with me on this trip, and well, I wanted to keep Mr. Ranger company.  His
thigh brushed against me as we were enjoying our steak and he was telling
me a story about hiking up the canyon trail.  He didn't flinch and move
away quickly, like a lot of guys would do, and seemed to let his thigh
linger there, close to me, close enough that I could feel the coarseness of
his hair against my skin.
	He relaxed a bit more, and soon, his arm brushed against me.  I
could smell his rich aroma, the smell of an outdoor guy after a day of
work, mixed a bit with the smells of the forest and the water rushing down
the creek, and the sunshine on tanned skin.  And, he smelled good, manly.
I wanted him.  Bad.  It had been too long for me, and, after what he'd been
saying about his work, too long for him, too.  We were kindred spirits, and
we were both figuring that out.
	Finally, I had downed my steak and the salad, and sopped up the
last of the juices with a slice of the sourdough bread I'd found at the
bakery in the last town I'd come to before the park.  I looked over to
Mr. Ranger, and he, too, had finished off his steak and was wearing a big
grin just below his moustache.
	"That was a great meal, he said.  "What's for dessert?"
	"You."

Copyright 2009.  Oregon Bear