A Rendezvous with Destiny
by Lootah Akecheta

Disclaimer: This is a story of adult sexual content between two consenting persons. If you are offended by this type of material, or if you are under the age of eighteen (18), then please do not read further. This is a purely fictional story and any resemblance to any persons or places is coincidental except for the use of places that actually exist for geographical accuracy. This material is copyrighted by me and may not be used in part or in whole for group entertainment or education without first obtaining written permission from me. I would appreciate any constructive criticism, complements, or suggestions my readers may have to share with me, however I will flatly ignore flaming out at my material. You may write to me via: akecheta@live.com

A Rendezvous with Destiny

There are only a few things in life that really stick out in one’s memory, but once in a while it happens. When the god’s take note of a mere mortal and change his life forever. There is little control over it. At one point your life is as boring as lead and the next it lights up like sunlight reflecting off all the gold in the world. That is exactly what happened to me some years ago while hiking the Appalachian Trail.

At the time I was in my late twenties and weighed in at 145 lbs on a 5’ 8” frame. I was skinny to be sure, but not in a beanpole sort of way. I had a tight frame and sinewy muscles. I was a dark brunet with a full mustache and a decent amount of body hair – a gift from my father’s German heritage. My Cherokee heritage lent me an ease of tanning a deep bronze color, and I had plenty of time that summer to get as dark as my ancestors. When it comes to kicking out the miles on the AT I can hold my own. I covered about 15 miles a day and that was more of a leisurely stroll for hiking the AT. On average a really zealous hiker will cover about 22 miles per day, for most though; between 12 to 20 miles will do.

For those of you who don’t know it, the AT, as the Appalachian Trail is affectionately called by the hundreds of thousands who have hiked its many, many miles over the decades, stretches from Georgia to Main and has over 2000 miles of some of the hardest wilderness hiking this country has to offer. The scenic views the trail affords are breath taking though making it well worth the effort of hiking this famous foot road.

Other hikers one is likely to encounter on the trail are very likable individuals who are kindred spirits with other outdoor types. People who like being outside and engaged in activities such as hiking, camping, canoeing, etc. Hiking the AT is rough business and is not to be taken lightly. It is not a trail for day hikers, although there is nothing wrong with day hiking and the AT is often used for such activities in its more civilized straits. It was designed however with the serious hiker in mind – the kind of person who straps a 45 pound pack on their back and hikes 12 to 20 miles per day. Once away from civilization the trail takes on a character of its own. It becomes wild with nothing between you and all nature has to offer. Lions, Tigers and Bears – Oh My! This isn’t Kansas anymore Toto.

Hikers on the trail are nearly always in terrific health and if they are not when they start out they will be by the time the trail is through with them – if it doesn’t kill them first that is. The trail fallows the ridges of the Appalachian Mountains and to get up there you have to climb up the sheer side of the mountain often up a steep uneven trail that switches back and forth and stair steps up until it reaches the summit. Once up there you don’t have it made in the shade either. The ridges of these mountains are a series of small hills like the humps on camel backs and they are steep. So hiking the AT gives one a major workout for each and every day out there, and carves lean shapely bodies out of its users.

That is one reason why I was attracted to him so much when he descended the trail into the shelter aria. All along the trail, spaced about 10 miles apart, are shelters that the Forest Service built for hiker to use. They are built along the lines of a log cabin, but with one face open to the elements. It is really a very well built lean-to with a stone hearth fireplace built into one side and a wire fence to keep night critters out while sleeping.

I was sitting on a small pile of flat stones I had built near the fire pit for this purpose. It was while I was waiting for water to heat up over the open fire for coffee to jumpstart my aching muscles when I heard rustling sounds coming from up the trail in the direction I had come just the evening before. I figured it was another hiker, but one can never be too careful out here. Bears have been known to make themselves at home using a person’s backpack and all the stuff in it to make their lives a little more comfortable, eating everything in site and tearing the backpack to pieces when they run out of all your precious rations. So, I looked up to make sure it was indeed another person and not Teddy our friendly woodland custodian coming to visit. I froze to my rock stool as though someone had doused me with quick drying cement and held me in place while it set up.

The man coming down the trail wreathed on either side with Rhododendrons looked like a god descending from heaven. He was Adonis incarnate. I like blonds, brunets, hell even green and purple died hair spiked in all directions can get me going if it is attached to the right man, but my all time favorites are red heads. Give me a man with an auburn lock of mane and I’m in hog heaven. This man looked as though his head were on fire with a really deep nearly burned out coal-fire kind of hair. The color a camp fire gets late at night just before it turns to pure ash. Those really deep blood reds that just make my whole body tingle with the pure delight of looking at them. Ok, I admit it; I could have been a pyromaniac in a former life. I love it.

As he drew closer I began to shear my eyes from his hair to take in the rest of him. He was wearing cutoff jeans that had really frayed around the legs and were nearly white from too much washing. He wore a wife-beater tee-shirt that really showed off a his muscles. Hanging on his shoulders was a very dark – black even – backpack that towered over his head by a little over a foot. This really made his flaming head stand out, and it was then that I noticed his hair had been drawn back tight as though in a ponytail. He was maybe 5’ 6” or 5’ 8” tall and had a build on him that would turn Michelangelo’s David green with envy. It was not the gym type of build either, it was one wrought by months, even years of hard manual labor. He was maybe in his late twenties or very early thirties. His face looked as though it had been chiseled from granite with high cheekbones and a pouting mouth. But, his most striking attribute – aside from his hair that is, were his eyes: Let me put it this way:  Some time ago I had the opportunity to sail across the Gulf of Mexico and experience first hand what is called “blue water sailing” – sailing in water so deep that the color is pure indigo. A royal blue so rich and deep it makes the eyes hurt to look at it. This was the color of his eyes, with a depth to them that would make you feel as though you were drowning if you swam in too far. Add to this a deep tan – highly unusual for a red head – and you have one striking individual. I found myself praying he would hang around for a bit and have some coffee before heading on down the trail and out of sight and out of my life – probably forever.

I am not usually one for staring at another man even though I’m queer. My aunt Liz, a lezzy and one of the greatest people I know, told me it is OK to be gay and to live whatever lifestyle I want, but it does not pay in certain situations to flaunt it. Well, out on the AT is certainly one of those situations. Most of the people who hike the AT are about as straight as they come; nor would your average gay man be caught dead weeks out in the wilderness with nearly as many days without having a nice hot shower and a long stemmed glass of Merlot to ease the days tensions away: not to mention taking a shit as the bears do it. So I was trying my best to be casual about the way I looked at him. It wasn’t easy.

When he was nearly upon me he caught me glancing at him as though I was trying not to and he gave me a dazzling white smile: a smile that reached all the way into his eyes and lit him up as if hundreds of candles were shining on his face. I heard rather than felt my sharp intake of breath as I tried to breathe. “Hi.” His voice was a rich deep baritone that resonated up from his very toes and slid over you like fine silk sheets. If I were a Christian I would swear he was the devil himself.

“Hi. Great morning, isn’t it?” I didn’t know what else to say regardless of how lame it sounded to me then as well as now.

“Yea it is. I’ve been hiking sense it turned light out. I really love the mornings.” He said this as he hefted his backpack down, his arms bulging with the effort. Wow, my prayers had been answered. He was going to stop even if it were just for a little while. I couldn’t have been thankful enough. Here god was gracing me with his divine presence, and I was determined to bask in his glory for as long as he chose to bless me. After he set the pack down he held out his hand to shake mine and introduced himself. “Markus Bradshaw”. His handshake was firm, vise like, in its intensity. I couldn’t place his accent, but it sounded Southern European; maybe Italy or Greece – although it did not match his name or his looks, but what did I care. “Duane Foster” I almost stammered back, standing to shake his hand. “Would you like some coffee? The water is just about ready to boil. I’m afraid it’s instant, I try to carry as light as I can.” I was babbling. He smiled and nodded. “Sure, I would like that.”

We talked for some time while we sipped coffee and enjoyed the morning sun shining on our backs. As it turned out, Markus was as interesting to listen too, as he was handsome to look at. Where his body was eye candy, his voice was music to the ears. I could have sat there for an eternity and just watched and listened to him. Markus, like me, was out there by himself trying to hike as much of the trail as he could before cold weather set in. We had both started our hike late in the summer and as such neither of us would make the whole trek that year.

He stood up and stretched out his muscles. He’d been sitting cross-legged on the ground, which was a sight to behold in itself. His shorts were barely enough to offer much covering at all and it was obvious he was not wearing under shorts. Red pubic hair peaked out over his upper thighs like tantalizing wisp of flame bespeaking of the inferno deep in his loins. When he stood both his nuts slipped out of his shorts leg holes. I could not help myself and looked. I know he noticed but to his credit he did not say a word about it. He went off behind the shelter to take a piss with his fiery ponytail swaying behind him. I decided to suggest we hike together by the time he returned.

“Yea, I’d like that. I’ve been out here for nearly three weeks alone and would love to have the company.” I was somewhat surprised by his eagerness at the suggestion. Hell, I was even more surprised by my own candor for asking him. All I knew was that I did not want to let this man out of my sights for a while. Like him, I had been out here for a long time and was hungry for human contact, in more ways than one if you get my meaning. So, after I stuffed my gear into my pack and snuffed out the fire we were off.

On the trail the most precious commodity is water and it is none too easy to find either. There are trail guides people have written which point out all the water access along the trail and without one a person hiking the AT will not last long. Never count on the available water being posted by the forest service – although they do sometimes mark where water can be found. We had been hiking for nearly 4 hours, taking a breather break about every hour. Around 2 pm we stopped to eat our lunch and realized we were nearly out of water. Markus took out his guidebook and looked up the nearest source. According to the book there was a stream about a quarter mile away and about 200 yards off the trail. We decided to go on and eat when we got to the brook.

The sun was really hot by then and sense I was walking behind Markus, I could smell his sweat and grime. I don’t know about most people but I love the smell of a sweaty man if it is not overpowering and from where I was it smelled like sweet perfume. I felt the familiar tingle from my gut to my groin with each intake of breath and my cock was making matters worse by getting hard and making it difficult to walk. Have you ever tried to pay attention to the trail when all you can think about is how hard your dick is and how good it would feel rammed up the ass of a gorgeous man walking in front of you? I can honestly say it was more than distracting.

Finely we got to the trail that led down to the creek although we nearly missed it altogether. It was a small track not much more than an animal trail and was nearly covered with underbrush. We looked at each other dubiously. “Think this is it?” I asked.

Markus didn’t look sure, but we could hear the water gurgling down hill somewhere. “I think so” he answered. I took the lead and headed down this foreboding path. Markus was right behind me and had I had stopped abruptly he would have toppled us both. The trail was steep and rather difficult to maneuver, but the sound of the water was getting louder as we ventured on.

Finely the trail leveled out and there in front of us was not a stream at all but a rather broad shallow creek. It had to be 10 feet across at least and coursed around large smooth boulders. “Alright, now that is some stream.” It was Markus who’d disturbed the creek’s exuberant voice. He and I were thinking the same thing. Not only was this a great place to refill our water canteens but it was an unprecedented opportunity to get cleaned up. It had been nearly a week and a half sense I’d come across any pond, creek, or mud hole big enough to get in and wash. Markus stooped down and tasted the water. He grunted his approval of the sweet cold liquid. People who claims water has no taste has never drank the cold refreshing water from a mountain stream after hours of long arduous hiking. There just isn’t anything quite like the experience. I joined my friend in refreshing my parched throat with the goodness of the earth’s blessings.

“What way do you suppose to find a deep enough pool to get into: upstream or down?” I asked Markus.

“Down, upstream will just get smaller as it gets closer to the ridge.” His answer had logic to it I must admit, although I was thinking the same thing. I just wanted to see what he would say. So, downstream we went. We’d not gone far, maybe about 3 or 4 hundred yards when we came upon a nice open pool that was about 40’ across and looked deep enough to swim in. Water cascaded with a gentle roar off several tiers of boulders at one end. We knew we were going to have one hell of a time getting back up to the trail but neither of us was worried about it. The beauty of the place and the idea of having a good swim and bath made us both giddy. One takes for granted the simple necessities of life until they are deprived of ordinary things like baths – sometimes for days, or even weeks.

Sense we had left our backpacks at the point where we’d filled our canteens, getting out of our clothes was no problem at all. I sat down on a rock and unlaced my boots before kicking them and my jeans off. I had already taken my shirt off up the stream a ways and now the only things left were my shorts and socks. In no time they too were history. I stood there naked with my eyes closed basking in the battling forces of the suns hot rays and the cool mist blown up from the nearby waterfall. I heard a splash and looked up to see Markus’ taught form gliding under the water. As clear as it was there was no doubt that he was as nude as I, and I could not wait to see him out of the water.

I didn’t join him in the tarn until he’d come to the surface and looked up at me. “Are you coming in?” He had to yell to be heard over the den of the fall.

“Of course I am. Is it cold?” I knew it was, but it felt like the thing to ask at that point. The truth was, I wanted to judge his reaction when he saw me standing there naked as the day I was born and I could not think of anything else to ask to avoid looking foolish. “Yea, but you’ll get used to it. It feels good now.” Was he checking me out, or was it my imagination? God I wanted him to be as interested in me as I was in him. I couldn’t tell, so I dove into the deep crystal blue waters and surfaced right in front of him. Wow! Oh my god! That was the coldest water I had ever experienced. The kind of cold that makes your nuts rush inside to keep from freezing off. “Damn, this is cold!” It wasn’t an accusation, not quite. Grinning at me he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself in the chilled water. Quick as a snake he slipped his hand on top of my head and dunked me under the water before I could catch my breath. This of course instigated a tussle between us to see who could dunk whom the most. In the water we were almost evenly matched, but he still got the better of me – I was waterlogged. The good thing about it from my point of view was being able to grab his body and feel his naked skin against mine.

After a bit we swam to a rock on the shore and climbed out. It was a large stone and afforded us room to stretch out in the warm summer sun. We lay there on our backs and I kept a close watch on his body as the sunshine warmed it up. I was mildly surprised by the length and thickness of his cock – his cutoffs had done little to hide his ample package. It was a shade lighter than the rest of his skin and had a pink bulbous head – the kind that flair out like a mushroom. It grew hard as I watched warmed by the sun and had to be 9 inches long if it were one. My own cock was standing erect and already seeping its clear slippery juice onto my stomach. “Mmm, this is nice.” He murmured and I felt the flat side of his hand rubbing up the length of my abs towards my taught nipples. I looked up at him and gave him an appreciative smile. It felt great and now I knew he wanted it as much as I. I started to sit up, but he gently pushed me back down and slid his fingers over my stomach and swirled them in the precum pooled in my belly button. I watched as he lifted it to his mouth and tasted my sap. It was wonderful to see the unbridled lust flaming in his eyes.

Like a man possessed he swung his body over on top of me and pressed his lips to mine. I felt his tongue slip between them and into my mouth. I eagerly accepted it. The man could kiss! Oh my god! If men could get other men pregnant with a kiss, I would have had quadruplets. I completely lost myself in that kiss. I was his to do with as he pleased and he knew it.

He slowly licked his way down my neck and over my Adams apple, and then his tongue swirled around in the hollow of my neck. I was in heaven. I nearly lost it when he found my ear and nibbled on my lobe right before plunging his tongue into my ear canal. I writhed against him slipping in the sweat that greased our bodies. I could feel the heat and hardness of his cock as he ground it against me sending shots of electric fire pulsing through my neurons. Sensory overload was an understatement. The passion between us was like volcanic lava melting our bodies into one being. It was incredible and had only just begun. My god: if this man could do this to me so easily, what in hell would happen when he really got going?

He fell to one side of my body and slipped his hand down onto my crotch. I felt the callused firm grip of his hand as he wrapped it around my engorged organ, and I moaned and arched my back as he slowly stoked me. Then his hand skimmed down over my nuts and I felt his finger glide on sweat into my crack where he massaged my anus. Fuck orbit! I was on my way to Pluto and beyond. 

He clamped his mouth over my nipple and sucked gently while continuing to massage my ass. I’ve been with my share of men, but none held a candle to Markus. I don’t know if it was a natural connection between us, the fact that I had been with no one but my palm in over three weeks, or if he was just that good. I like to think it was a bit of all of the above. The man was unbelievable. He was now rubbing his face against my stomach and I felt the bristle of his whiskers rake across the head of my cock. I nearly jumped out of my skin, but rather than distracting me from the incredible pleasure he was giving me it merely enhanced it. I watched as he slurped my fluid from my bellybutton and then the intense heat as his mouth engulfed my prick. He took it all in and did not stop until his nose buried deep into my wet pubes. At the same time he fucked my asshole with his fingers and played with my prostate. He masterfully sucked my prick teasing the head one moment and sucking deep and hard the next. Then he gripped the base of my cock hard in his fist making it swell to the point of bursting while teasing the piss slit with is silky tongue. The sensation was so intense I could not hold back any longer and I arched my back to the staggering sensations of the moment. He sensed my nearness and swallowed my dick as I flooded his mouth with my creamy load. Cum seeped out around his lips and ran down my organ and drenched my balls. He did not seem to mind in the least that I came in his mouth. He sucked harder until he had all the spunk I had to offer. I lay there wiped out as he licked me clean. I hadn’t done a damn thing but lie there and enjoy the bliss he generated in me. My head swam with the headiness of sex as the orgasmic endorphins flooded my being. The sent of sex was heavy on the air.

He kissed me deep and passionately and the essence my own sperm was intense in his mouth. It tasted great. I’ve never liked the taste of my own cum, but on that day, at that moment, I would have swallowed a gallon of it.

He slid his body between my legs parting them with his knees. His need was immediate. I felt him slide his erection against my pucker and up my aching crack. I longed for him to be inside me. I needed him to fuck me. I needed it more than I can express. This entire time neither he nor I had breathed a single word, but now he whispered and his voice was urgent. “Let me fuck you.” My response was to wrap my legs around his waist and guide his prick into my wanting hole. He filled me with his organ and I gasped at the pain-pleasure caused by his enormous cock. I had never had one that large up my ass before. It felt as though it was splitting me in two, but I could not get enough of it. I wanted more. I wanted it hard and fast and for it to last forever. His pent up sex craze matched my own as he plowed my ass. His throbbing muscle worked me in ways I had never before been treated and I knew I wouldn’t be the same again, ever!  My god it felt wonderful. We cried out in ecstasy while the entire forest fell quite in reverence to our intense passion.. “Fuck me!” I urged. He grunted, hammering me harder and harder. Slam after but fucking slam he pounded my ass and I cried for more.  The intensity of this fucking moment was mind blowing. Finely, gasping, he thrust his cock in deep and let loose a volley of hot ropy cum filling me so full I felt him seeping out from around his cock and running down my crack toward my back to drip sluggishly onto the hard warm surface of the rock upon which we lay. He collapsed on top of me and pumped the rest of his load up my willing ass. His weight bore down upon me like the ages of time – past, present and future all culminating into one. We said nothing and caught our breath holding each other in our after sex high.

Slowly he got off of me slipping his cock out of my hole. I was not in the least bit happy about that, but all I could do was lay there and watch as he slipped into the frigid water of the creek. So intense was our lovemaking that my whole body felt like jelly, so I sat there and watched as he swam to the center of the pool and dove down to the bottom.  “Where in the fucking hell did he get the energy?” Upon his returned I spied something shining in his hand. Curiosity got the better of me and I moved over to the edge of the lagoon dangling my feet into the icy water. He offered me what he held. I took the ring that shown with the light of the moon even in the golden glow of the suns bright rays. “This ring I bequest to you. If you ever need me for any reason, just hold this ring and wish it and I will be there.” He kissed me before swimming back to the center of the pool. “My friend you know me as Markus, but my other names are far more ancient. I have been known as Trident to some, Poseidon to others, but I will always be your friend.” With that he slipped under the water and a few seconds later he breached the surface soaring into the air transformed into his natural form, a merman and a king. I watched dumbfounded as he returned to his natural home by means only the gods know.

I was thunderstruck. Had I just experienced what I thought I had? My ass told me it was no dream, and I still held the ring he had given me. I watched as he rose higher and higher until he disappeared from sight among the fluffy white clouds. I looked at this token of his closer and noticed writing on it. Etched around the inside of the ring read these words “From beneath the waves, Oh Great Poseidon, come to me for I have need of thee.” On the outside the ring was embossed with a trident entwined with dolphins.

I slipped the ring on my left ring finger as though it were a wedding band and headed back up to where we had left our backpacks. His was nowhere to be seen. In the mud next to the creek where he and I took water, were only my footprints. I hefted the pack onto my back and headed up the narrow path returning to the AT. My mind reeled. My senses turned inside out and upside down. What is reality? What is illusion? Making love to a god plays havoc with one’s mind.

*          *          *

It’s now been 8 years sense that eventful day. I have yet to use the ring he gave me but it remains on my finger as a part of me. I’ve been thinking more and more of this token a god gave me: fondling it lovingly in the wee hours of the morning. Lately I have been feeling a strong sense of longing to see this being in his environment. To visit a god under the sea, and never to return to this mundane existence, now that would be an adventure to remember. Who knows, maybe it can be?

A man who looked like a god? No: A God who is a man. Now that is incredible.