But I couldn’t think about helicopters, or rescue, or gratitude … all I wanted was for him to drop the cloth, reach down into the water, and wrap his strong fingers around my cock, which was now throbbing incessantly.
Instead, he dropped the cloth at my side, then eased my torso forward. After picking up the cloth again, water flowing freely from it, he slopped it onto my exposed back, then started to rub it firmly around. Using firm broad strokes, he smoothed his hand across each shoulder-blade, masterfully pushing away any tension, before tracing down the length of my spine, forcing the cloth quite a way beneath the water, where it brushed teasingly at the top of my bum. His body was close to mine, his manly scent, of hard earned sweat, and machinery oil, and the thick tangy odour of freshly cut mountain pines, was completely intoxicating. When finished, he returned my torso, to rest once more against the warm metal back of the bath.
My chest heaved almost uncontrollably now, as I fantasised about the two of us in an embrace: hands searching, lips kissing, buttons popping, hot flesh in hand, teasing, stroking, rubbing, wanking … then gasping lips parting, split by male flesh, mouth warm and inviting, cock pushing deeper and deeper inside.
At some point, I couldn’t remember when, I’d started to slide my hand along my cock, relishing the feel of it, enjoying my fingers wrapped tightly around it, tell-tale ripples and splashes on the water’s surface telegraphing what I was doing.
He seemed not to notice, and stood up calmly. ‘You’re good to soak for a few minutes,’ he said, heading back to the fire, where he threw on a few more logs, enough to last us the night. ‘There are some towels on the seat beside you,’ he said quietly, ‘whenever you’re done.’
I closed my eyes, slowing my hand a little, as the new logs started to crack and spit as the flames rapidly took hold. I should be thinking about the bigger picture now, how lucky I was to be alive, how grateful I was for my rescue, how great it will be when I get to see my friends and family, but all I could think about was the stranger’s big hands just a few moments ago, stroking my chest with slow sensuous movements, water flowing and dribbling slowly from the cloth, the hard sewn edge just catching my nipples, making them visibly swell. I sighed to myself, imagining he was still doing it, and then pictured his hand plunging much deeper into the water, where he twisted the cloth between my belly and my cock, knowingly teasing me.
I imagined grabbing his wrist as it cleared the water, shaking it firmly until his grip was broken and he dropped the cloth, then I plunged his hand deep into the water, where his fingers automatically locked on to my throbbing manly flesh, stroking along its length, his hand slow, strong, experienced. I thrust my cock upwards, fucking it into his imaginary hand.
My eyes snapped open, and scanned the room. He was at one of the small beds, loading it with heavy sheets and quilts. I took in his body again, only this time more lustfully, and while stroking my cock. His muscles rippled and tensed beneath his tight shirt as he shook out the sheets, then tossed them across the bed. Then he gave me a perfect view of his tight bum as he stooped to tuck in the corners. I had no idea who he was, whether he was a hunter, or a ranger, or just someone who wanted to get away from it all, up here in the beautiful but hazardous mountains. But what I did know was that he was turning me on more than any man ever had. I wanted to make a move … I had to make a move.