The Gay Erotic: The Hike

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As we started hiking, my brain kept going back to Ranger Payton—the way he’d dominated me the night before, how hot Hala looked as he watched me getting my ass ruined, and how good that orgasm had felt pushing through me with a force I couldn’t comprehend. I was pretty certain that I’d never forget Ranger Payton because he’d introduced me to a part of my sexual desire that I hadn’t known existed. Who knew that feeling sexually helpless could be so fucking hot and also, in a weird way, even freeing?

THE HIKE: Part 10-Another Hard Lesson From Ranger Payton

The Gay Erotic — Tue, 24 Mar 2026 17:08:28 GMT

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From the outside, the trail store looked like it’d been built by a succession of stubborn old men, one add-on at a time, each section with its own unique design, and every single part of it was as old as shit. But despite its rather decrepit state, AT Supply Co. was busy. That’s because it was very close to the trail, and for those of us traveling north, it was the last store to stock up on supplies before entering Shenandoah National Park. Inside the convenience store, fluorescent lights flickered. The aisles were a disorganized chaos of military surplus, energy bars and ramen, and gadgets that promised to make a person’s hike easier.

I stepped inside, followed by Hala, and felt the rush of air conditioning hit the sweat on my arms, and it felt amazing. There were maybe two dozen other hikers in the store, all in various states of exhaustion—some sat in the corner by the outlet cluster recharging their phones, others hunched at the bar sipping instant coffee, and some sat in booths chatting with each other about the latest trail gossip. Of course, everybody was talking about the murders. The chatter was impossible to escape. And everybody seemed to have different details to share or rumors to spread. Hala and I tried to avoid spreading gossip, but we definitely did our share of listening to it.

We drifted straight to the food section. Hala was already running inventory on our remaining snacks, mumbling a list under his breath: “We need at least 24 protein bars. We should buy a large bag of trail mix. Another bottle of ibuprofen.” His hands moved fast. He was so much more efficient at this than I was. And I loved watching him work numbers in his head.

It had been almost two days since our experience with Ranger Payton in the maintenance building, and my body still ached with the ghost of that man’s monster cock splitting me open. But I can’t say I hated being opened up by him. And if I’m honest, I also couldn’t say the idea of seeing that man again didn’t do something crazy to my pulse. That encounter made me feel alive—so much so that I almost didn’t recognize myself. But just thinking about it made every one of my nerves wake up, and my cock started to sing.

Hala dropped a stack of tuna packets into the shopping basket. “Hey, Chad,” he said, not looking up, “did you see we got a text message from Morgan? He wants to come hang out with me again.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, man, I’m excited that we’re gonna see him again.”

At the checkout, the owner—an older lady wearing cargo shorts and a T-shirt with a faded bear print—smiled at us with the dead eyes of someone who’d seen a whole lot of bullshit and come out on the other side quite unimpressed. She rang us up, then pointed at a battered sign above the register: DON’T FORGET TO CHARGE YOUR SHIT.

NOW FREE-The Hike-Part 5, Morgan’s BIG Surprise

The Gay Erotic — Wed, 18 Mar 2026 19:08:13 GMT

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I woke up to the sound of Hala’s soft snoring. His breath was hot on my neck, his hand splayed across my chest like he was holding me down in a wrestling match. The light in the hostel room was bright; it must have been way later than I thought. My eyes flicked over to the other bed. Morgan was sprawled out on his back, a sheet tangled in between his knees, his bare chest on display, his lanky hot frame doused with the faintest sheen of sweat. His abnormally large cock lolled on his thigh, thick and heavy, perfectly at peace. I watched it twitch, then looked up at Morgan’s face, expecting him to be dead to the world. He wasn’t.

“You been awake long?” I whispered with a grin.

Morgan smiled, lazy. “Long enough to watch you suck my cock with your eyes. You’re cute when you’re all lusty and think nobody’s looking.”

I shook my head and chucked. “Morgan. You’re a freak, and I fucking love you for it.”

Morgan nodded slowly, giving me a smile that quickly morphed into a yawn, then he stretched, arms flexing above his head, the thick hair in his pits catching my eyes. “It’s almost eleven,” he said, “and I’m starving. You guys coming with me?”

Hala mumbled, his lips on my shoulder. “Is there coffee?”

Morgan snorted. “Of course, there’s always coffee.”

We showered again, this time for real, and by the time we hit the strip, the sun had cooked off the all of the morning’s coolness. The diner was only 2 or 3 buildings down from the hostel. It featured the same brownish maroon vinyl booths as every other hiker stop along the AT—the same wood-grained Formica, too. It was like walking into a time capsule 1992–the design, the decor, even the three ladies working the floor. They looked as though they’d been transported here out of an early 90s George Michael music video—big teased hair, way too much eyeliner, one of them even had a KISS tattoo on their wrist. And these women ran this diner like they were drill sergeants feeding soldiers before for combat. The whole place was packed. A wall of noise hit us as soon as we walked in: the scrape of forks on plates, the drone of some game show playing on a TV behind the counter, the low hum of a dozen conversations fighting for air.

We squeezed into a booth by the window. The waitress put menus on our table with a practiced toss, then eyed us up and down—our rumpled hair, our still-wet clothes, the bruises and hickeys all over my neck. She smiled, sly, like she didn’t give a fuck.

“Y’all want the breakfast special or the hiker’s skillet?” she asked.

Morgan didn’t even let us look at the menu. “Three skillets and a carafe of coffee. Please and thank you.”

When she left, Hala leaned across the table. “I’m so starving I could eat”—he looks at Morgan and then at me—“both of you.”

I shrugged. “Hala, I’m pretty sure you did that only a few hours ago.” We all laughed. I gave Hala a wink and then I turned to Morgan. “Ok, so what’s the plan for today, my friend?”

Morgan shrugged, giving us a big dose of fake nonchalance. “It’s nothing to worry your heads about. You’ll see soon enough.” A wicked grin appeared on his face.

I laughed. “That’s terrifying. I’m pretty sure the last time you told me there was ‘nothing to worry about,’ I ended up getting my ass fucked by a cock the size of a thermos.”

“My cock isn’t quite that big, now.” He grinned, all evil and such. “What happens today will either completely fuck up our newfound friendship, or it will ensure that we become bonded together for a lifetime.”

“Fuck,” said Hala, “that’s a whole mouthful and yet, it tells us absolutely nothing .”

“Exactly,” said Morgan, blowing both of us a kiss. And then he smiled.

We all laughed—easy, natural, like we’d been doing this forever.

I let my gaze wander around the room. The place was a living breathing museum. Every surface was stamped with history—old men at the counter, kids hunched over pancakes, families with fresh haircuts and church clothes. And, dotted through it all, the odd hiker: instantly recognizable by the gnarled calves, the thousand-yard stare, and the way they inhaled food like it was air.

In the booth behind us, two guys sat close, heads bent together. They were both young—mid twenties, maybe—but they looked older, faces peeled by sun and wind, hands bandaged, packs propped at their feet. One had a beard that belonged on a Civil War battlefield. The other looked like he could have modeled for Patagonia if not for the wild sunburn crawling up his neck.

I caught a bit of their conversation as the waitress refilled their mugs.

“—said they found her boots, just off the fire road. Nothing else. Fucking creepy, man.”

The other guy nodded, eyes shadowed. “Yeah, but wasn’t she hiking with someone? Her partner or whatever?”

“Still missing. They think he might have just taken off.”

“Or something worse.”

Their voices faded as the kitchen bell rang. The waitress shuffled plates onto their table. But I felt Hala’s eyes on me—he’d heard it, too.

I turned to him, but he shook his head: Let it go.

But it stuck in my craw. Something about it felt familiar and fucked up in the same way. The trail had a reputation—a mythos of danger, of random violence, of ghosts lurking in the woods. But it was always just that: stories. Nobody really vanished out here. Not like that.

The waitress delivered our food, three small cast-iron skillets of fat and cholesterol. Hala grinned, stabbed his fork into the top of his eggs, and started eating like a man possessed. Morgan slurped coffee and watched the two guys behind us in the mirror on the wall. I chewed my sausage links and tried not to stare.

After a few minutes, Hala set his fork down. He wiped his mouth, then turned in his seat and leaned over the back of the booth.

“Hey, sorry—” he said, directing his words at the bearded guy, “did I hear you say something about the missing hikers? Is there an update?”

The bearded hiker looked up, eyes ringed red, but not unfriendly. “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “It’s all over the hiker logs, but it still hasn’t hit the news yet. You guys just get to town?”

“Last night,” said Hala. “We’re heading north tomorrow.”

“Be careful out there,” said the second guy. He looked at Morgan, then at me, then back at Hala. “The missing person thing—one of them was found, like, last night. Just north of Shenandoah National Park. Half a mile off the main trail. They said she’d been dead for several days.”

Hala blinked. “Jesus.”

“Who found her?”

The guy shrugged. “Some section hiker. He saw the buzzards. The rangers think it was an accident. Maybe she fell, maybe she got lost, but…” He trailed off, then shrugged again.

The beard guy added, “Her boyfriend is still missing. Like, no trace.”

There was a heavy silence. I felt the hairs on my arms stand up.

“Shit,” said Hala. “Thanks for letting us know.”

“Yeah. Good luck, guys.”

Hala slid back into the booth, face unreadable. Morgan caught my eye and arched a brow.

“Well,” he said, voice soft, “that’s a hell of a mood-killer.”

I shrugged. “There’s always something fucked up happening on the trail.”

“Not quite like that,” said Hala. “People turn up dead sometimes, sure. But it’s pretty rare.”

Morgan sipped his coffee, deep in thought. “The good news is, all of that is happening hundreds of miles away from where we are right now. So, hopefully by the time you get closer to Shenandoah, you guys will have a lot more information.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna let that bad news affect my day.” Hala squeezed my hand.

“Me either,” I said, smiling, “besides, it sounds like Morgan has something wild planned for today and that should keep us distracted.”

Hala nodded. “Well, I’m game for anything—well, anything that doesn’t end with me getting buried in a shallow grave.”

We all laughed. Then, Morgan showed us his wolfish grin again. “No promises, man.”

And then he burst into laughter. “I’m kidding. Y’all are going to love today.”

We finished the rest of breakfast in a hungrier silence. When the check came, Morgan snatched it up, paid cash, and left a ten on the table.

Outside, the day was bright and the air was already humming with bugs and exhaust from the highway. Hala’s hand brushed mine as we walked. I could feel him thinking hard, weighing it all. I wanted to tell him it was fine, that shit like this happened, but I knew it would be a lie.

Morgan whistled low. “You boys ready for the greatest day of your lives?”

Hala and I exchanged a look. He nodded.

“Let’s go,” I said, voice braver than I felt. “We’re not dead yet.”

Morgan’s truck was a battered Tacoma, the back filled with muddy tarps and a crate of empty beer cans. I’d barely pulled the door shut when Morgan floored the pedal and sent us juddering out of the parking lot. Hala, seated in the middle between Morgan and me, leaned over my lap and cranked down the window. I sat shotgun, still tasting coffee and diner grease, already buzzing with anticipation.

Morgan grinned at us, eyes squinting in the sunlight. “First stop: the best fucking outdoor store this side of the Rockies.”

He wasn’t lying. The place was a monstrous converted warehouse, with a fake mountain built in the entryway and racks of every imaginable backpacking toy. Inside, it smelled like new nylon and old wood, with fluorescent lights humming over a football field’s worth of gear.

Hala and I wandered the aisles like kids at a candy store, stacking our arms with all the little luxuries we’d been denying ourselves: thick merino socks, a new titanium mug, ultralight food packets with flavors that weren’t just “beige,” electrolyte tabs in neon tubes. Hala disappeared into the footwear section and came back with two pairs of toe socks, a foot balm that practically cost more than my first car, and a canister of vaseline. He set it down on the counter.

“You planning to stroke your cock with that shit?” I asked, whispering it in his ear when the cashier was distracted.

Hala shrugged and then leaned in, conspiratorial. “Or maybe I was planning to stroke your cock with it.”

“Fuck.”

Morgan showed up with his own cart—a grocery basket of mountain food, three disposable cameras, a water filter system, and a bear spray the size of a small fire extinguisher.

“Whoa, you expecting to get mugged by a bear?” I said.

Morgan shrugged. “You never know when it might come in handy. Besides, I’ve found that it works on sketchy humans, too.”

At checkout, the cashier gave us a once-over, then pointed to the “Free for Thru-Hikers” tray of battered Clif Bars by the register. We took a handful each, pocketed them for later.

Back in the parking lot, the sun was so bright and warm. Hala stuffed the bags into the back seat, then flopped onto the curb. “Okay,” he said, “what’s next on our magical mystery tour?”

Morgan closed the tailgate, wiped his hands on his jeans, and fixed us both with a look. “Ever been to a proper sex store?”

I chuckled. “Like, the kind with the tinted windows and glory holes inside?”

Hala perked up. “Oh my. Yes. Just take us.”

Morgan grinned. “Yes sir.”

He drove us out of the strip mall district and onto a battered state highway, past the usual detritus of pawn shops and vape stores and faded billboards for gun shows. We turned into a gravel lot behind a pancake house. The store’s sign was hand-painted—ADULT WORLD—and featured a cartoon devil girl riding a rocket.

I had never been inside a place like this. I hesitated at the door, but Hala threw an arm over my shoulder and pushed me in. The entryway was a narrow tunnel lined with posters of 1980s porn stars. Inside, the air was cold and smelled faintly of latex and cherry air freshener. The counter was presided over by a woman with a shaved head who was wearing the largest mood ring I had ever seen. She didn’t even blink when the three of us came in together.

Morgan took the lead, strutting straight to the “Couples & Fetish” aisle. Hala followed, his eyes wide as he scanned the shelves: vibrators, whips, rubber dog masks, lube in gallon jugs. It was almost comical how fast he switched from hiker mode to horny-dog mode.

“Jesus Christ,” Hala said, picking up a package. “There’s an actual dildo called ‘The Appalachian Trail.’”

I looked at the box. The thing was a foot long, with a twisty, vein-mapped shaft and a suction cup at the base. I could barely hold it with one hand. “That’s not anatomically correct.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” said Morgan, who was busy sorting through a display of cock rings shaped like animal skulls.

We moved down the aisle. Hala grabbed a bottle of bright pink lube, then a pair of neon handcuffs, then a vibrating “male prostate stimulator” that looked like a torture device from the future. He dropped them into the basket like he was frequent shopper.

“Are we gonna have a room to carry all of this in our backpacks?” I asked.

Hala grinned. “You only live once, Chad, and I plan to use every inch of your asshole before the end of the trail.”

I blushed, and my cock stiffened inside my shorts. “You’re an animal.”

Morgan sidled up, holding a butt plug that featured a huge fox tail on one end. “You think this would look cute on me?”

I didn’t even pause. “Absolutely. You should buy two.”

He looked genuinely touched. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in weeks.”

At the end of the aisle, Hala stopped, staring at something high on the shelf. “No fucking way,” he said. He reached up and pulled down the largest, most intimidating double-headed dildo I’d ever seen. It was translucent purple, at least two feet long, with little suction cup nubs along the length.

“We’re not buying that,” I said, instantly, with authority.

Hala smirked. “Oh, we are absolutely buying it.”

“It won’t even fit in our packs.”

“You can just wear it around your neck,” said Morgan.

I laughed, but I also had to admit: If there was ever a right time in my life to buy a novelty double-headed dildo, it was here, while hanging out with the two horniest, weirdest men I’d ever met, in a town we’d never see again.

We made our way to the counter, loaded up with loot. As the cashier rang us up, Morgan slid a black satin thong onto the counter, then winked at me.

“Chad, you need this. Trust me.”

I blushed again, but fuck it—at this point, why not.

The cashier sacked our gear in a giant opaque bag and stapled the receipt to the side.

Back in the truck, Hala opened the bag and pulled out the lube, turning it in his hand like a trophy. “This is going to make fucking you even hotter than it already is.” And then reached in between my legs and squeezed my half-erect cock. I squirmed in truck’s seat. And that only encouraged him. He massaged my cock from the outside of my shorts like he owned it. And I wanted him to own it.

Morgan looked over at my crotch and Hala’s hand and fired up the engine. “You ready for the real adventure, boys?”

I nodded, still very distracted by what Hala’s hand was doing to me. “Let’s do it.”

We barreled out of the lot, three men and a bag of new sex toys, burning rubber on our way to god knows what.

We swung by the hostel for a quick change. I stared at the pile of sex toys on the bed—lube, the handcuffs, the two-headed monster, the little black thong—and suddenly had a hard time believing any of this was real. I pulled on my best technical shorts and a thin tee, but Hala just slipped into running shorts and nothing else. Morgan wore shorts and sleeveless muscle shirt.

As we stood in the hall, lacing up our boots, I finally asked, “Okay, Morgan, is there anything that we actually need to wear for this adventure?”

Morgan leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and said, “The only real requirement is hiking shoes.”

Hala laughed, “That’s it? Nothing else?”

Morgan’s eyes glittered. “I’m just saying, we’re hiking, so you need good shoes.”

We piled back into the Tacoma, Hala wedged between us, the sex toy bag squished under his feet. The roads turned narrow and hilly as Morgan guided us out of town, past rolling fields and trailer parks and rusted-out gas stations. The clouds were gone, the sun bleeding out over the mountain ridges, and the world turned gold, then blue, then almost black.

After almost an hour of driving, with Hala and me trying our best to guess where the hell we were, Morgan turned onto a barely marked gravel road. We rumbled over potholes and grass growing up the center stripe. At the top of a long, slow climb, we pulled into a wide clearing ringed by pine trees. There were eight or ten cars parked in no real order—an odd mix of battered pickups, a Subaru with a cracked bumper, and a a gray Oldsmobile minivan with a faded rainbow sticker on the back window.

Morgan killed the lights and turned the engine off. The woods around us were silent, almost oppressively so. I felt a prickle of nerves, but also anticipation.

We got out of the truck, shoulders brushing in the cold night air. The only light was the moon, fat, full, and shining perfectly over our heads.

“Alright,” said Morgan, “there’s one rule: strip off your clothes. Everything except your boots.”

I blinked, waiting for Morgan to give us the punchline.

But instead of finishing a joke, Morgan just slid off his shorts, carefully maneuvering them around his hiking shoes. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing them into the bed of the truck. And then he let his briefs fall to his ankles, pulling them off. He stood there in nothing but his hikers, his naturally engorged cock catching my glance. My god, Morgan’s dick was a beautiful piece of meat.

Hala looked at me, eyebrows raised, then shrugged and peeled off his shorts. He was already not wearing a shirt, and now the man who I was beginning to feel deep things for was baring his body. I looked at hairy junk and his hairier ass and felt my mouth water. I felt my cock harden angain as I took in every sexy inch of his beautiful brown-skinned body.

I hesitated taking my shorts off. For starters, it was chilly and I was already shivering. But the biggest reason was because I was fully hard. But then I thought, what the fuck did I have to afraid of? I was with two guys who had both seen me fully hard already? In fact, they loved seeing me fully hard. So, I pulled my shirt off, stepped out of my shorts, and let my almost 8 inches stand proud.

“Hot damn,” said Morgan, shaking his head at my hard dick, “you are one hot motherfucker.” I grinned shyly and then I watched his eyes give Hala’s body a hungry gaze. “Damn, I’m gonna need a whole lot of will power not to pounce on you two before we get on the trail.” Morgan looked down at his own cock, which caused Hala and I took at it too. It was growing.

“I think it’s safe to say that all of us are feeling the same temptations,” said Hala.

I put my arm around Hala and said, “yeah, get us on this trail—and quick— before I fall to my knees and take one of you into my mouth.”

“Okay, guys,” said Morgan, “I wanna say one more thing before we start.” He cleared his throat and grinned. “ I’ve only known you guys for 24 hours. Now, I’ve certainly gotten to know you pretty well during that time.” He laughed and wagged his eyebrows. “But tonight might push you all way outside of your boundaries.”

Hala and I looked at each other again, both of our expressions saying the exact same thing: what the fuck are we getting ready to walk into?

Morgan kept talking. “So, I just want to say that, if at any point tonight, you wanna stop and head back to the hostel, just say the word. And I realize that this little speech might bring up more questions in your mind. But I hope you’ll just trust me and know that, on the off chance that I am coming completely wrong about you guys, we can stop at any time. I like you two, and I want tonight to be fun for all of us. And if one of us isn’t having fun, none of us will have fun. So please, speak up.”

Hala laughed. “Dude, I’m not as innocent as you think. I can almost guarantee you that nothing about tonight is going to shock me.”

Morgan pursed his lips. “Hala, I don’t doubt that you have seen a lot of crazy shit in your day. But I’m pretty fucking certain that you have never experienced anything like what you are about to experience tonight.”

Hala shrugged, nodded. “Okay, man, you might be right. But I hope that you will remember this: for some stupid reason, Chad and I trust you...” All of us chuckled. “…so, just lead the way.”

“Awesome,” said Morgan, “let’s fucking go.”

And with that, Morgan turned a small flashlight on and led us across the clearing, through a gap in the trees, onto a dirt path barely visible in the moonlight. The first steps were the hardest—my balls swinging, my hard dick bouncing loudly with each step. But after a hundred yards, it felt… natural. Being naked out on this trail in the middle of the night with two of my buddies was amazing. There was a freedom in it, a kind of freedom that felt unique and rare.

Once I was fully comfortable trekking uphill in my own naked skin, I became hyper aware of how hot it was seeing Holla and Morgan tramping through the forest butt-ass naked. Sure, I was the only one hiking with his cock at full mass, but both of them sported chubbies, their cocks fluctuating somewhere between flaccid and rock hard.

Hala walked beside me, his arm brushing mine, his eyes darting between watching his step and staring my cock. “Just in case I haven’t told you today,” he whispered to me, “I want to remind you thatI love your penis.”

I smiled. “It loves you back,” I said.

“I can hear everything y’all are whispering to each other,” said Morgan.

“If you hadn’t interrupted us,” I said, “you were just about to hear me whisper to Hala about how nice your ass looks right now.”

“Fuck, Chad!” said Morgan, turning around to face us and pointing the flashlight down in between his legs. “Look what you did.”

Hala and I both shook our heads in amazement at the same exact time. “Good Lord, you have a hot cock.”

Hala nodded and then leaned down to Morgan’s cock and wrapped his lips around its fat cock head, sucking it for just a moment. “It tastes good too.”

“Y’all, are awesome,” said Morgan, turning the flashlight off, and then he said, “look around you, my friends.”

It took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the sudden darkness, but then I started to see what Morgan was referring to—the blinking dots of fireflies.

At first, it was just a flick here and there. But as we continued to walk deeper into the forest, the more they appeared—thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, a whole universe of tiny lights blinking around us, lining the path, pulsing in the darkness of night. It was impossible not to slow down, to let the awe of it fill you up.

I looked over at Hala. His face was almost flickering as a dozen fireflies fluttered around him. His mouth was open, his expression pure wonder. Fuck, he looked hot.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Morgan whispered.

Hala shook his head, voice reverent. “It’s like walking through a dream.”

He grabbed my hand and slowly, he and I walked up the path, surrounded by a multitude of lightning bugs.

Morgan waited for us at a bend in the trail, arms crossed, smiling. “ Okay, we are almost at our destination. The first time somebody brought me here, I thought I was being set up for a cult murder.”

“Wait. Are you leading us into a cult?” I asked.

He grinned. “Not exactly.”

The path kept climbing, winding through the trees, then breaking out onto a high, open slope. The fireflies thinned, replaced by the full glare of the moon, so bright I could see every muscle on Morgan’s body, every dark hair on Hala’s skin.

We topped the last rise and then, out of nowhere appeared the deep blue shimmer of a lake. At the far end, tucked under a shelf of cliffside, was a small cabin—a single light glowing in the window, and a plank deck stretching out over the water.

On the deck, I counted at least a dozen men, every one of them completely naked, all of them standing or sitting or sprawled on benches. Some were talking quietly, some just staring at the water. None of them seemed surprised to see us.

“Oh, my God,” I said.

Hala laughed. “What the actual fuck?”

Morgan was still leading us, and when we were all standing at the deck’s edge, the other men nodded or grinned, and some said nothing at all. Most of them looked older than us, but there were a couple who might have been younger, like college aged.

One guy with a beard and a beer belly poured whiskey into a row of plastic cups, then handed one to each of us as we approached.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Help yourselves. House rules: Be nice, be safe, consent is assumed unless somebody says otherwise, and absolutely phones unless you want them shoved up your asses.”

Morgan raised his cup in a toast. “To freedom, to nakedness, and to whatever the fuck happens next.”

Hala and I clinked cups with him. I threw back the whiskey—cheap, but burning in a good way.

Morgan leaned close, his breath hot in my ear. “Ready for the next part? This is a free use party. Every mouth, hole, cock, and body here is free to use as you desire. But it goes both ways.”

“As in, our bodies are free for them to use, too, right?” I wrapped my hand around my cock and gave it slight stroke.

“Exactly,” said Morgan.

Hala looked around and said, “Okay, Morgan, you were right— nothing I have experienced up until now has even come close to this level of crazy. But fuck, I am here for it.”

Morgan’s cheeky grin widened as he looked at me. “Are you game to play, Chad?”

“Oh, I am so fucking in,” I said, and then seconds later I felt Hala’s hand graze the crack of my ass.

“Let’s have some fucking fun!” said Morgan, leading the way past the deck, to a spot where a handful of men were clustered together beside a stone firepit. One of them had a joint burning, the familiar-scented smoke rising in slow swirls. Morgan grabbed the blunt and took a pull, then passed it to Hala. He put the joint in between his lips and inhaled. As the smoke filled his lungs, he coughed, and then flashed me a grin. Handing it to me, I took a slow drag—fuck, this was good shit—because almost instantly, the world around me went syrupy, the edges of my vision sparkling.

A man with a shaved head and a tattoo of a dragon that wrapped around his arm walked up to us. It was obvious the stranger was sizing us up, his gaze lingering on our dicks, then our chests, and finally, our faces.

“So, you two are the new guys, am I right?” he asked, meaning me and Hala.

“Yeah,” I said. “this is our first time.”

He scanned my body up and down, nodding approvingly. “Good. And welcome. We love ourselves some fresh meat at these parties.”

He looked at Hala and said, “Fuck. You have a beautiful cock.”

Hala beamed, already a little high and a little drunk. “Thank you, sir.”

I watched as Hala’s eyes moved down that stranger’s body, not stopping until his eyes found his thick dick, which curved viciously to the left. “Damn, I like yours too. Very nice.”

“You better fucking know it.” The stranger laughed aloud. It felt awkward, jarring. “My cock is the mother-fucking beast. And maybe, if you’re really lucky, you’ll get to experience it.”

The bald guy laughed again. Wildly so. Hala forced a chuckle. Then, the man nodded at me, clapped Hala on the back, and just wandered away.

Hala and I shared a curious smile and then I looked around, taking in the views—all of the sexy bodies and untamed confidence. It was almost too much to take in at once. I felt some nervousness wash over me. Morgan must have noticed my growing anxiety because he moved closer to me and put an arm around my waist. His touch instantly calmed my racing heartbeat. Morgan reached his arm around Hala and, with a neediness that was now familiar and welcoming, pulled both of us in close. He kissed us, first putting his lips on mine, my body immediately surrendering. Then, he moved his to the back of Hala’s head and pulled his mouth into his. I licked my lips watching their tongues invade each other’s mouths. With heightened hunger, Morgan brought all of our mouths together and we made out like we were the fucking Trinity—three in one—all of our cocks hardening and knocking against each other. We pressed our bodies into each other, rubbing our cocks into whatever flesh they hit first.

We broke our kiss, all of us grinning with growing need.

“Some people call this the wildest fucking party in all of Appalachia,” said Morgan breaking away from our kiss and shrugging playfully. “I think you’ll find everybody to be very warm and hospitable.”

We all kissed again. Hala pushed his tongue into my mouth. Morgan planted small kisses up Hala’s neck, moving up to his ear. Hala threw his head back and moaned as I leaned into him and put my tongue into his ear.

The other men were watching us. I could practically feel the weight of their gazes. I took a quick glance around and sure enough, nearly every eye was on us. Some of the men watched us with hunger, stroking their cocks without shame. Others watched with less-obvious interest. When I felt Morgan’s mouth begin to suck at my breast, I tugged his head tight against my nipple and growled. My outburst of pleasure caused some of the men to chuckle.

Morgan came off my tit. “Okay, y’all ready to mingle?”

Hala and I both nodded. Morgan smiled.

The fire was the center of everything. A ring of heat, smoke, and naked bodies—some sitting, some sprawled on blankets, some already taking each other’s cocks into their mouths. I’d never seen anything like it, and for the first few minutes, I just watched, feeling overwhelmed. Don’t get me wrong. It was hot as fuck. But it was also a whole lot.

I watched as men wandered the deck, glasses in hand, cocks swinging freely. Huge cocks. Average cocks. Small cocks. And nobody seemed self-conscious or insecure. Some of them were engaging in conversation, their words punctuated by casual gropes or an absentminded reach for another man’s ballsack. Every so often, a pair would slip away from the crowd, vanishing into the shadows.

I nursed a drink and tried not to stare. Hala, on the other hand, dove right in—he was instantly magnetic, drawing attention from every man within a twenty-foot radius. He laughed, joked, let himself be admired. His body glowed in the firelight, and soon enough, a lean, wolfish man in his forties came over and introduced himself.

“Name’s Eli,” he said, reaching for Hala’s hand and holding it just a beat longer than what was normal. “First time at one of these?”

Hala grinned. “Is it that obvious?”

Eli shrugged. “You’ve got the look.” His hand slid over Hala’s hairy chest, fingers running down over his abs, then lower into his thicket of dark curly pubes. “You mind if I…?”

Hala glanced at me. “Go for it,” he said.

Eli didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees and took Hala’s cock in his hand, then his mouth. Hala’s head went back, his lips parted, and I watched his whole body melt into the pleasure. It was hot watching the man who I was wildly attracted to receive such intense pleasure from a stranger.

Beside me, Morgan appeared with a plastic cup full of clear liquor. He poured some of it into my cup, then sat down, his arm draped over my shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked, voice pitched for just the two of us.

“Yeah,” I said, though I could hear the uncertainty in my own voice. “This is just… a lot.”

He looked out at the party, then back at me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

I believed him. But that wasn’t the problem—I wanted to. I just didn’t know how to begin.

Morgan sensed it, and stood, pulling me up with him. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll introduce you around.”

We made the rounds, meeting a half-dozen men—Asa, the one with the shaved head and a grin like a shark; Luis, skinny and tattooed, who wore nothing but a bead necklace and a cock ring; Darren, a bearded bear who looked like he could bench-press me with one arm. They were all kind, funny, and direct. Each of them took my hand, sized me up, and offered a compliment or a gentle touch: a hand on my back, a squeeze of my shoulder, a brief caress of my hip.

When we reached the far side of the deck, Morgan pointed out a guy sitting by himself at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the black water. “That’s Wes,” he said. “He’s the guy who puts all of this together.”

We walked down, our boots thudding hollow on the hard planks. Wes looked up, smiled. He had sandy hair, a lean runner’s build, and a face like he belonged in some movie about lost boys. I liked him instantly.

“Hey,” he said, “you’re one of the newbird, right?”

I nodded, feeling weirdly shy. “I’m Chad. And this is Morgan.”

Wes nodded. “Nice. I’m Wes. I’m very familiar with Morgan.” His eyes went directly to Morgan’s fat cock. “You’re in for a good time.”

Morgan looked at me, then at Wes, and said, “He’s a little nervous.”

Wes grinned. “That’s normal. The first time’s always the weirdest. But you’ll get the hang of it.”

I glanced over my shoulder, back toward the fire. Hala was on his back, sprawled out on a blanket. Eli was in between his legs, hungrily sucking on his dick. And another man—Asa, I realized—was straddling Hala’s chest, feeding him that curved cock of his. Hala looked as though he was in heaven, his face taking Asa’s fucking like a pro. The sight of it made my knees weak.

Wes followed my gaze and smiled. “Your friend seems to already be very much at ease.”

I laughed. “He always is.”

Morgan excused himself, but not before leaning in and whispering, “You know how to find me if you need me.”

Wes and I sat side by side, legs kicking the air, the silence between us comfortable. He told me about growing up on the edge of the Smokies, about running track in college, about being out and proud in a town that mostly didn’t care as long as you didn’t make a scene. I told him about my own life, how boring it sounded next to his.

“You’re here,” he said. “That’s not boring.”

After a while, he reached over and put his hand on my thigh, squeezing it gently. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

My whole body went electric. “Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

He stood, pulled me up, and we walked to a small shed at the edge of the property. Inside, there was a faded rug, a stack of towels, a bottle of lube on a milk crate. The air was musty but warm.

He kissed me, slow and deep, his hands running over my chest, my arms, my ass. I kissed him back, letting myself fall into it, letting my hands roam his body. I wanted him—I wanted everything his hot manly could give me.

He dropped to his knees, took my cock in his mouth, and started sucking, slow and confident. I watched the curve of his back, the way his ass flexed as he worked his mouth on me. He looked up at me, my cock hardening in his mouth. His eyes shined as he took me deep into his throat, and I groaned, running my hands through his hair.

I lasted maybe a minute before I felt the urge to cum. He sensed it, pulled off, and stood.

“I wanna fuck you,” he said, his voice low.

I nodded, barely able to breathe.

Wes lined himself up behind me, hands bracing my hips as he bent me over a crate. My cock pressed against the rough wood, the roughness biting into my flushed skin. The anticipation was a pulse in my temples, every one of my nerves on fire.

But instead of ramming his cock inside me, Wes dropped to his knees and buried his face in the crack of my ass, eating me out with unhinged hunger. His tongue was hot and insistent, tracing my rim with skill, teasing my puckering hole. He spit into my ass and then, with the tip of his tongue, pushed his saliva deep into my entrance, the sudden wet heat made me gasp.

Wes groaned as he licked me, his spit running down my taint and over the backside my nutsack. He spread my cheeks apart and then spit again, this time pushing his tongue deeper inside me, fucking me with it. My back arched into his face, my hole needing more of him. I’d only had my ass eaten a few times before, so I wasn’t the most experienced guy, but still, I could tell that Wes’s talent for rimming was an all new level for me—he was greedy, and thorough, and I felt utterly devoured.

Wes stuck two fingers into his mouth, making them wet and warm, and then lined them up to my hole. Slowly, he pushed them inside me. I moaned as he worked them in—one, then the other, opening me up with gentle circles and patient pressure, never hurried. I could feel every little ridge of his fingertips, the heel of his palm braced on the top of my ass, the warmth of his breath on my sensitive skin. The sensations were fucking overwhelming.

Wes didn’t just finger me. He explored me. He was like reading my body, the tightening of my thighs, the arch of my back, the involuntary whimpers that slipped out of my mouth every time his knuckles nudged my ring. He would pause and lick my hole again, his tongue swirling until my spine tingled, then he slipped his fingers in deeper, stretching me. Every so often, he’d lean in and suck the back of my balls, letting his tongue linger there before diving back into my trench. My cock throbbed against the crate, leaking precum like a fucking faucet.

Eventually, Wes stood up behind me, lining up his hard cock in between my ass, rubbing it against my wet crack.

“I can’t wait to fuck your tight hole, man,” said Wes.

I moaned, pushing my body back against his erection.

“I need your cock inside me, Wes,” I said, my voice full of lust.

I felt the soft hardness of Wes’s cock head pushing against my hole. His first thrust was sharp, but I wanted him inside me so badly I didn’t care. He pushed into me, filling me up, slow and steady. As soon as I’d adjusted to the fullness of his cock, he started thrusting, hands gripping my hips, his breath hot on the back of my neck.

“Fuck, Chad, you’re so fucking tight,” Wes said, the sweat from his forehead splashing against my body.

I moaned, loud, not caring if the whole party heard my pleasure. God, he felt good—so fucking good. Wes picked up the pace, slamming into me, owning me with desperate need. I reached beneath me and stroked my own cock, and within seconds I was shooting ropes of cum onto the rug.

He fucked me through it, then pulled out and jerked himself off, shooting his hot load all over my ass and back. We collapsed together onto the rug, holding onto each other, our sweat cooling on our skin.

“Holy fuck,” I said, my voice still shaky amid the afterglow.

He laughed. “Yeah. You’re a fucking natural.”

We lay there, not speaking, just breathing. After a while, we heard steps approaching and then a knock on the door. It swung open and there, standing in all of his glory, was Morgan. My eyes went right to his cock, it was rock hard, every thick inch glistening with desire.

“Am I interrupting?” he said.

Wes grinned. “Not at all. Want to join?”

Morgan knelt beside me, kissed me deeply, then rolled me onto my back. He licked up the glob of cum that was caught in my bush, lapping my pubes clean. And then he wrapped his lips around my cock, bringing it back to life in seconds. As Wes straddled my face, a couple of the other men entered the shed, one of them immediately put his bearded face in between Morgan's ass cheeks and began licking at his hole. As Wes shoved his nuts into my mouth, I felt Morgan moan loudly around my cock. Wes motioned for the other new guy to bring his long cock over and stick it in his mouth. As Wes sucked his buddy’s dick, I swirled my tongue around his balls, licking his nuts clean, savoring the taste of his sweat and sex. Soon, Wes shifted his body and my face was suddenly surrounded by his perfectly smooth ass. I instinctively spread his cheeks and began lapping my hungry tongue against his pink hole.

As I rimmed Wes’s hole, I felt Morgan change positions. Within seconds, I felt my legs being lifted and pushed back and my buddy’s massive dick knocking hard against my hole. I grunted wildly into Wes’s ass as Morgan slid his cock into my ass, slowly at first, then hard. Once he was balls-deep inside me, Morgan wasted no time and started fucking me. As he sucked on his friend’s, Wes began riding my face, moving his hole against my tongue, moaning uncontrollably.

Sex was happening all around me. At some point, I have no idea when, more people joined us in the shed and started another orgy of sucking and fucking a few feet away from my head.

I lost myself in all of the sensations—the fullness of Morgan’s meaty cock impaling me, the rhythm of his thrusts using my body for his pleasure, the heat and flavors of Wes’s ass against my face. I felt Morgan’s hands latch onto my hips, his fingers digging in. I felt Wes shift again above me, pushing his cock, which was dank with the taste my insides, into my mouth. He leaned forward and started fucking my face, his nuts slapping my chin. The man who had been eating Morgan’s was now sucking my dick and the guy who Wes had been sucking was making out with Morgan.

It was fucking heaven. All of it, a sexual escapade that my body would never forget.

Morgan fucked me missionary for a very long time. At some point, I felt his cock slip out of me. He slapped my ass and said, “let’s switch it up.” Wes took his cock out of my mouth and the stranger who was sucking on my cock came off of me. Morgan sat down with his legs crossed and whispered to me, “sit your ass down on me.” I obeyed, positioning my body over his cock, feeling every thick inch as it entered me. When I’d sunk all the way down onto his lap, I wrapped my legs around his torso and Morgan began rocking us back and forth, our bodies joined together moving as one. I instantly felt a wild pleasure start to grow in me, an electricity waking up my entire body. I whimpered into Morgan’s ear as his cock worked a magic inside of me that I’d never felt before.

There was a moment when everybody else in the room began moving around us, groups of two and three switching partners and positions. Right in front of me, I watched Wes get on his hands and knees as his buddy mounted him from behind. Asa had joined us in the shed at some point. He was sitting on a pile of wooden pallets, his nuts getting worshipped by somebody I didn’t know. Another group of men were fucking behind. Meanwhile, Morgan’s cock continued to rock my body full of pleasures I could never have imagined feeling. As my breathing became weighted with delight, I felt a mouth on my ear and realized that Hala had joined us.

“You look so fucking hot riding that big cock, baby.” Hala stood behind me, and when I threw my head back in ecstasy, he kissed my mouth.

When our lips parted, I gazed into his eyes and said, “I want you to fuck me, Hala.” I brought my lips to Morgan’s ear and asked, “can Hala fuck me? Do you mind?”

Morgan grinned. “Do I mind? Of course not.”

I stood up and Morgan’s cock pulled out me. I was dizzy with lust, feeling like I was almost drunk. I heard Hala and Morgan snickering.

“Get on all fours, Chad.” Hala said, laughing again as he helped me get into position. He looked up at Morgan. “I think he’s dick drunk.”

They laughed again.

I wasn’t even sure if being dick drunk was a thing. But I might have believed them if they’d told it was. Because I definitely felt sexually giddy in a way I’d never felt before. As I knelt and leaned forward onto my elbows, arching my back, Hala got on his knees behind me. As he slid his cock inside me, he said, “hey Morgan, get that big dick of yours over here and fuck me.”

Hala pushed into me and I moaned like a coyote. My whole body shook feeling all of his dick deep inside of me. Hala remained still as Morgan lined his dick up to his hairy hole.

“It appears I’m not your first cock tonight,” said Morgan with laugh.

Hala shrugged. “Oh, there’s at least two-loads worth of lube in there.”

“Excellent,” said Morgan.

Hala screamed loud as Morgan shoved his big ole dick into him. And then I yelped, too, as the force of Morgan pushing into Hala caused Hala’s cock to find a deep spot in me. And while it took us a few minutes to find the perfect rhythm, once we did, that powerful feeling started again in my body.

It was like we were three pieces of the same machine, Morgan hammered into Hala, who moaned and braced himself tighter against my ass while he pumped his cock in and out of me. The force of Morgan’s thrusts drove Hala’s strokes to deeper, sharper places than I’d ever felt before. Every slam of Hala’s hips into me pressed my face down into the rough grain of the cement floor, a reminder that I was being held in place, punished and rewarded at the same time. The more Hala fucked me, the more Morgan fucked him, and the whole thing built into a spiral of heat and hunger that wouldn’t stop.

The chorus of sounds in that shed—skin on skin, the needy wet noises, the raw shouts of pleasure—nearly drowned out my own voice. My body’s only response was to surrender, to open up and absorb every bolt of lightning. And that’s when my body began shaking, a pleasure so deep and so overwhelming that it took me over the edge.

“I’m gonna cum!” I shouted, “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“Me too!” said Hala.

As my orgasm rushed through me like a freight train, my cock pulsed beneath me and I felt my release as it oozed out of my cock.

Wes shouted, “Fuck! Chad’s cumming hands free, gentlemen! God, that’s so fucking hot.”

My body was still jerking when Hala’s cum started bursting inside of me.

I was spent, my body wrung out and sore. When Hala finished, he fell forward, which pushed my body flat against the concrete. Both of us lay there, tangled, covered in sex, just feeling each other’s breaths

The final act of the fuck fest was a feeding frenzy—every man who hadn’t cum yet lined up, and Morgan took each one in his mouth, sucking them off, swallowing every drop. I watched him, awed, as he took a dozen loads in a row, never once flinching or gagging. When he finished, he wiped his mouth, grinned, and pulled me into a deep, messy kiss.

Back in Morgan’s truck, Hala leaned over and kissed my cheek. “That was the best night of my life,” he said.

I squeezed his thigh. “It was fucking incredible.”

Morgan turned the key, started the engine, and looked at us. “You guys are fucking legends.”

We drove back to the hostel in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. When we got to our room, Morgan sat on the edge of the bed, his face strange.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded, then shrugged. “I just realized that I never came.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

He grinned, sheepish. “I guess I was too busy making everyone else cum. It’s kind of my thing.”

Hala and I looked at each other, then at Morgan. In a heartbeat, we were on him, kissing him, pulling him down onto the mattress. We stripped him, stroked him, and took turns sucking him.

When he finally came, he howled, shooting his load all over both of our chests.

We collapsed, a sweaty, cum-soaked, sleepy.

Hala traced a line down my chest, then kissed me, soft and gentle. “You’re my favorite,” he whispered.

Morgan hugged us both, then pulled the covers up. “Let’s stay in bed for at least… forever,” he said.

I laughed, then closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion and the afterglow wash over me.

I felt completely and utterly alive.

ANOTHER FREE POST: The Hike (Part 4)—That Threesome

The Gay Erotic — Thu, 12 Mar 2026 19:43:18 GMT

Is this the hottest post I’ve ever written? I don’t know. But it’s definitely hot. And now, because of it’s my first anniversary week, I’m making it free.

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I woke up to the sound of rain. Not real rain—just the fat, cold droplets of condensation falling from the inside of the tent. Hala was already up, hunched over the glow of his headlamp, stuffing gear into compression sacks with the discipline of a Marine. I groaned and rolled over, squinting at the unkind clock on my phone: 4:38 a.m.

“Jesus, Hala,” I said, my mouth thick with sleep. “We on a fire watch or something?”

He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Gotta move if we want that trail magic in town. Up and at ‘em, Chad.” His voice was a hush, but there was laughter behind it. I watched the muscles in his back shift as he moved—his whole body wound tight with energy, ready to explode into motion.

My own body, by comparison, was a bag of wet sand. I stretched, instantly aware that my ass still felt tender, probably not as bad as how Hala’s ass felt right about now but it was still not exactly happy. My cock, on the other hand, despite being drained to its last drop, still twitched at the memory of Hala’s mouth and the tightness his incredible ass.

I sat up, head buzzing with the familiar cocktail of exhaustion and post-coital afterglow. Hala flashed his lamp in my direction, took in my nakedness, and gave a low, appreciative Mmm.

“If you keep laying there like that,” he said, “we’re never going to get out of this tent.”

I grinned, stretching my arms over my head and flexing just enough to show off. “Thought you liked it when I’m lazy.”

On his hands and knees, Hala crawled over and landed on top of me. The lamp, dangling from his teeth, made his face look almost monstrous, but I could see the softness in his eyes. He put the lamp down next to us and pressed his lips to mine—quick, but greedy—then nipped at my lower lip. “I do. But we need to make it into town for resupply before the hiking mob takes all the good snacks.”

Hala’s morning breath was foul, but I didn’t care.

He tucked the sleeping bag tighter around me, like a mom tucking in her kid, then patted my chest. “Cover up. It’s cold as fuck out there.”

I rolled my eyes but did as I was told. “But you just said we needed to move or we’d be miss out on the good shit.”

“Okay, you’re right. But in my defense you’re body is distracting in all of my very favorite ways.”

I got up on my knees and performed a dick little dance for Hala. While the rest of my body was rhythmically challenged, I could make a pretty sick beat with my cock. Hala blushed hard. And I thought I was on the verge of tempting him to come back to bed and sit on my penis, but his will to score the best supplies won out.

“I love everything about you and your body,” he said, “and I promise, I will make this up to you somehow. But get your ass up out of that sack and let’s go!”

“Fine,” I said, grinning at him, “you win.”

We moved together in the cramped space, bumping knees and shoulders as we dressed and packed. Hala was a fucking machine—everything folded, rolled, and stowed with zero wasted motion. I was a mess, fumbling with my socks, dropping my sunscreen, cursing as I tried to locate my missing left boot.

“You’re kinda hopeless,” Hala said, a smile on his face as he watched me struggle. He’d already put his backpack on and tightened its straps.

“Guess you’ll have to carry me.”

“Maybe I will.” He looked at me then, eyes dark and serious, and for a second I wondered if he meant it.

When we finally crawled out, the night was still thick—just the barest hint of light at the edge of the sky. The world was silent except for the low hum of wind through the pines, the faintest drip of last night’s dew. I snapped the tent’s stakes free, Hala rolled the body into a tight burrito, and together we slung it into my backpack. Within a few minutes, we stood at the edge of the clearing, facing the dark trail.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. “Let’s make some fucking miles.”

And together, we stepped into the blue-black shadow of morning, the trail waiting, our bodies side by side.

The first five miles were straight uphill. No relief, just a brutal staircase of rocks cut into the flank of a mountain, every step a lesson in pain management. The air was cool, but my body was soon slick with sweat, salt stinging my eyes, every muscle in my legs screaming. Hala took the lead, setting an unforgiving pace—he didn’t slow down, didn’t look back, just grunted encouragements over his shoulder as we ground our way up the incline.

“How’s your ass feeling this morning?” I asked, my eyes enjoying the view of his backside in the fresh pair of climbing shorts he’d put on this morning.

“It’s still there,” he said, looking back at me and shooting me an adorable smirk.

“Trust me, I can definitely see that it’s very much still there.”

“Well, then, please let me know if you notice any of your cum staining the crack of shorts.”

I laughed. “So far, you’re looking good, man. You got so much hair in that hot ass of yours, there’s no way my jizz is gonna find its way out of that jungle.”

Hala stopped right in the middle of the trail. Turning around, he planted his lips onto mine. “Thank you for loving my wildly hairy ass.”

“It’s the fucking hottest ass I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Hala kissed my lips once more and then we started hiking again.

By the time we reached the ridge, the world was gold and pink, the sun burning off the last of the night. Hala paused at the summit, chest heaving, hair plastered to his scalp, and I watched the way his skin glistened in the light. He looked like a hero out of some ancient epic—half-wild, muscles defined by the strain of the climb. My God, he is beautiful.

I dropped my pack and nearly collapsed. My legs had turned to rubber, my lungs burned, but the view—holy shit. Bluish-hue mountains rolled away in every direction, an endless parade of foggy ridges and hollows. And for a moment, I forgot how much everything hurt.

Hala walked over, tossed me a bottle of water, and sat down beside me. We didn’t say anything for a while, just sucked air and stared at the world.

After a minute, I leaned in close and spoke low, just for him: “You still leaking my cum?”

He almost choked on the water. He turned to look at me, his face instantly on fire. “Yes, your boys are still leaking out of me.

I shrugged, a sly smile creeping over my lips. “Just checking. I kind of like the idea of you hiking all day with me inside you.”

He swallowed, heat gathering low in hit gut. “Fuck, Chad, you make me so fucking horny—do you know that?.”

I leaned in, licking the sweat from his cheek, and then bit his earlobe. “I’m happy I’m not the only one who is in a constant state of horniness.”

We sat there, side by side, our bodies humming with shared exhaustion and something else. I watched the wind ruffle the sweaty hairs on Hala’s bare arms. I wanted to lick the salt from his skin. Hell, I wanted to do everything to him. But we still had miles to go.

When we started hiking again, the descent was even worse. The trail was a rockslide disguised as a footpath, every step a gamble. My knees hated me. My calves threatened mutiny. But Hala kept up the pace, occasionally glancing back to make sure I hadn’t gone ass-over down the slope.

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We made fifteen miles before lunch, stopping at a stream to refill our bottles and eat. Hala stripped off his shirt, spread it over a rock to dry. His chest was a dark mat of sweat-soaked hair, shimmering in the sunlight. I couldn’t look away. I peeled off my own shirt, too.

We ate protein bars in silence. Every once in a while, Hala would toss a pebble at my thigh, or splash water at me, or just stare until I looked up. When I caught him looking, he never blinked. He just grinned, all teeth and mischief.

“You ever think about what people would say if they saw us right now?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Probably assume we’re just a couple of bros.”

He snorted. “Yeah, bros who can’t keep their cocks out of each other’s holes.”

I smiled, leaning back on my elbows. “They’d be jealous if they knew the whole story.”

We lazed by the stream for a while, soaking up the sun. Hala moved behind me and started massaging my shoulders, his fingers digging into the tight muscle just below my neck. The touch was firm, almost clinical, but then he leaned down and ran his tongue along the salt line behind my ear.

I shivered, then moaned—couldn’t help it. “You’re insatiable,” I said.

He bit my shoulder, then whispered, “I very well might be.”

He kept massaging, working out the knots, and when his hands slid lower, fingers tracing the line of my spine, I let myself melt against him. He was heat and strength and safety, all in one.

Eventually, we got moving again. The last few miles into town were much easier, more level. The promise of real food, real showers, maybe even a soft bed, kept us moving. We passed day-hikers and trail runners, families with bug-eyed kids, but it was like we existed on a different plane—sweaty, filthy, raw.

We hit the edge of town by early afternoon. The main strip was a line of old buildings, a hardware store, and the kind of gas station where the attendant still smoked inside. There was a trail supply store with a faded sign, and next to it a bar with a hand-painted wooden cutout of a hiker raising a mug of beer.

“First stop,” Hala said, nodding toward the supply shop. “We need to get food for the next leg.”

Inside, the place was chaos. Packs and boots and hikers crammed every aisle. The staff—three bored teenagers—looked overwhelmed and vaguely stoned. The other hikers looked like us, only less happy: sunburnt, exhausted, desperate.

We scavenged what we could—a couple freeze-dried meals, bags of jerky, instant coffee, peanut butter. Hala added two Snickers bars at the register, then grabbed two bottles of Gatorade from a battered cooler.

While Hala waited in line, I wandered over to the wall of announcements—lost dog posters, rideshares, someone offering massages for “donation.” I glanced at the hiker log, where people left notes for friends or future hikers.

Under today’s date, someone had written: HOSTEL FULL TONIGHT. TENT CITY BY THE CREEK. SORRY!

I felt my mood tank. “Hey,” I called to Hala. “All the beds are booked.”

He paid, then joined me at the door. “No shower?” He made a face. “Damn. I was really hoping to see you squeaky clean.”

I shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to settle for dirty.”

He grinned, then leaned in, whispering in my ear: “I prefer you filthy.”

We walked out, packs loaded, and for a second I wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all—no shower and no beds. But then Hala reached over, grabbed my hand, and squeezed.

“Bar?” he asked.

I nodded, smiling despite everything. “Hell yes.”

We pushed through the doors and into the dark, cool interior. The place was almost empty—a few hikers at the bar, a couple of old guys nursing beers at a table. The air smelled like cheap whiskey and fryer oil. As far as I was concerned, it smelled like heaven.

We dropped our packs and slid into a booth near the window. Hala sat close, thigh pressed against mine. The waitress came over, young and pretty, she had green hair and a nose ring. She took one look at us and laughed.

“You guys look like you’ve survived a fucking war.”

Hala grinned, shook his head. “You have no idea.”

She took our order—burgers, fries, a pitcher of beer—and when she walked away, I leaned back and closed my eyes.

We sat there, lost in our little world, waiting for the food to come. Outside, the sun was hot and bright, but inside the bar, everything was warm and okay.

Hala reached over, tangled his fingers with mine beneath the table. “This is nice,” he said, voice low.

I squeezed back. “Yeah. It really is.”

************

The burger was gone in three-minutes flat. I chased it with half a pitcher of beer, then slumped back against the vinyl booth, stuffed and happy. Hala was working on his second basket of fries, fingers glistening with grease, face bright with satisfaction. He caught me staring and grinned, lips shiny with salt.

“Want some?” he asked, holding a fry up to my mouth.

I bit it from his fingers, letting them linger on my lips for a second. “Best thing I’ve eaten in my life,” I said, which wasn’t even a lie.

We were mid-flirt when someone dropped into the seat across from us—no warning, no introduction. Just a sudden, physical presence, arms splayed wide across the table, big hands and bigger grin. He looked maybe mid-thirties, red hair buzzed short, faded tattoos winding up both forearms. His eyes were ice-blue, sharp and a little bit wild.

“You two are through-hiking, aren’t you?” he asked, his mountain accent making it hard for me to understand him.

Hala and I exchanged a glance. “Yeah,” I said. “Day four. How’d you know?”

The stranger snorted. “Well, for one thing, you both smell like shit. Plus, only a true masochist would wear trail runners into a place like this.” He nodded at my feet.

He stuck out a hand. “Morgan. Section hiker, but I’ve done the whole thing twice.” His handshake was warm, firm, and lingered a bit too long. He turned to Hala. “And you are?”

“Hala,” said Hala, flashing his best don’t-fuck-with-me smile.

Morgan grinned, then leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. “So, what’s your plan tonight? I heard the hostel’s booked solid.”

I groaned. “That’s the plan. Or, at least, it was the plan.”

Morgan shook his head. “They always fucking overbook that place time of year. It’s a shitshow. You can camp down by the creek, but good luck sleeping with half the other hikers out there getting trashed all night.”

He looked at us, sizing us up, then leaned in. “If you want, you could crash in my room. Two beds, but I don’t mind doubling up. It’s better than another night inside wet sleeping bags and having to fight off raccoon raids, trust me.”

I hesitated. I felt Hala’s knee bump mine under the table, a silent question. I tried to read his face, but it was blank—just those dark eyes, waiting.

“Why are you helping us?” Hala asked, voice even.

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a pretty nice guy. But also, y’all seem like good guys, too. And you’re newbies. And the first week is just the worst—you don’t know anyone, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, and you end up freezing your nuts off because you believed some ultralight YouTuber.” He raised his glass in a toast. “Consider the room a little bit of trail magic. We all need some of that to survive out here. And maybe I’m just a little bit lonely.” His grin was pure mischief, but sincere, too.

I glanced at Hala again. This time he gave me the slightest nod.

“Alright,” I said. “If you’re sure it’s not a bother…”

“Zero bother.” Morgan signaled the waitress, ordered another pitcher and three shots of whiskey, then he turned back to us. “So, where’d you guys start?”

We talked, then. Really talked. Morgan knew every inch of the trail, every shelter, every horror story. He told us about the blizzard he hiked through in the Smokies one year, about the guy who tried to carry a fifty-pound cast iron skillet all the way to Maine (“He made it seventy miles. We buried the skillet with full honors”), about the couple who got engaged at McAfee Knob, then broke up two weeks later after a fight over Pop-Tarts.

It was impossible not to like Morgan. He was funny, but also a little bit fucked up—a survivor, with all the sharp edges still showing. He swore constantly, but there was real warmth under it.

Somewhere in the middle of the second pitcher, Morgan’s voice dropped. “You guys hear the news from up north?”

I shook my head. “What news?”

“Two hikers went missing last week, around Shenandoah. They were together—partners, I think. Never showed up at the next shelter. People are talking about bears, but…” He trailed off, then shrugged. “Trail gets weird, sometimes. Just—keep your eyes open.”

The words landed with a chill. Hala grimaced, deep in thought.

Morgan noticed, and quickly lightened the mood. “Don’t worry, man. Most of the time, the biggest danger is a blown knee or parasite shits. People disappear on the trail all the time, but mostly because they quit and don’t want to admit it.”

He leaned in closer. “You guys smoke?” Before we could answer, he pulled a joint from a crumpled foil wrapper and flicked his lighter.

We all slipped out back, behind the dumpster. The air was thick with the scent of fryer grease and now weed. Morgan passed the joint, and Hala took a long, slow drag before handing it to me. It tasted earthy, sweet, and burned hot in my lungs.

“I like you guys,” Morgan said, exhaling a cloud. “You remind me of myself, back in the day.”

He looked at us—really looked. It became obvious that he was sizing us up, not just as hikers, but as something else. He let his gaze linger, then grinned.

“Let’s make a night of it,” he said. “I’ll get the booze, you guys bring the party.”

We stumbled back inside, a little high, a little drunk, a lot happy. We settled our tab and Morgan led us to his room—a tiny cell inside the hostel, three-buildings down from the bar, two narrow beds pressed against the walls, a single battered dresser. Our packs hit the floor, and we all sat on the edge of a bed, passing the bottle, talking shit.

Hala stretched out, arms behind his head, his shirt riding up to show a rug of dark hair running down his belly. Morgan’s eyes tracked it. He didn’t try to hide his interest.

“You guys together?” he asked, casual.

I looked at Hala, then back at Morgan. “Yeah,” I said. “Or… getting there.”

Morgan nodded, like he already knew. “Good for you. The Trail’s a good place to figure your shit out.”

He poured another round, and the conversation turned hazy—music, gear, politics, the best places to swim naked on the trail. And his stories—Morgan knew so many fucking stories that we laughed until we couldn’t breathe.

At some point, I realized it was nearly midnight. The world outside was quiet, but in the little room, the energy was buzzing, hungry.

Morgan stretched, then lay back on the bed, one hand behind his head, the other idly stroking his thigh. “You guys ever done a threeway?” he asked, voice just loud enough to be heard over the hum of the mini fridge.

Hala snorted. “Is that an offer?”

Morgan grinned. “Oh, I’m just asking questions.”

I looked at Hala, and he looked back at me. There was a spark there—uncertainty, but also curiosity. I shrugged, feeling bold. “Never say never.”

Morgan’s smile grew wider. He closed his eyes, hands behind his head, and I realized he was waiting—seeing if we’d make the first move.

I turned to Hala, then leaned in and kissed him, slow and deep, my hand on his jaw. He responded instantly, tongue urgent, body pressing against mine.

I felt Morgan’s eyes open. I glanced over, saw him watching us, his own body shifting as he reached a hand down and started massaging his crotch through his shorts.

Hala and I broke our kiss, both of us breathless, horny. Morgan stood up, “you guys cool if push these beds together?”

“Yeah, that works for us,” I said, looking at Hala, he was nodding. Morgan moved a couple things that were in between the beds and pushed them until they were close enough to become one large bed. Morgan sat back down on the bed, then leaned forward, and put his lips on me. Hala watched, eyes dazzling. His lips were rough, but warm, needy. Our mouths opened, tongues danced. Morgan tasted like weed and whiskey. But I didn’t mind the taste. In fact, I was surprised by how much I didn’t hate kissing him.

We broke our kiss and Morgan turned his head and kissed Hala next. And Hala let him, their mouths meeting, tongues flicking. Seeing Hala kiss somebody else turned me on. I watched as Morgan’s hand slid up Hala’s thigh, pushed into his crotch, squeezing, and Hala moaned.

The sight of that made my cock stir, hardening, and judging by the way Hala shifted, he was just as hard as I was.

Morgan pulled back, a flush rising on his pale skin. “We can stop, if y’all want,” he said, voice soft, sincere.

I shook my head. “I don’t wanna stop.”

Hala grinned. “I don’t want to either.”

Morgan smiled. “Good. Then, let’s see where this takes us.”

Morgan poured himself a shot of whiskey, perhaps needing a little more courage. Hala had a shot, too. I declined because the weed was hitting me hard—harder than I expected. My buzz was melting the tension in my body into a puddle of tingling nerves.

We were on the bed, our bodies tangled, Morgan’s thigh pressed against mine, Hala half-lounging across both our laps. The hostel room was a tiny box of heat, lit by the golden wash of a desk lamp and the flicker of the TV on mute.

Morgan pulled out the joint, relit it, and handed it to Hala, who took a deep pull and held it for an eternity before exhaling with a low, satisfied grunt. Hala passed it to me. I took a hit, inhaled, let the smoke find the back of my throat.

Soon, the world felt like it was moving in slow motion, and I was floating in a warm sea of heightened sensibilities.

I felt Morgan’s hand on my knee. Not subtle. He squeezed firmly, then let his fingers dance up my thigh, just grazing the hem of my shorts. I felt my cock stiffen and my heart thump in response, but I let myself lean into it.

“You two are fucking adorable,” Morgan said, smiling, breaking the spell I was under.

My face flushed pink. “We’re not adorable, Morgan. We’re like badass. Or fierce. That’s what we are… feirce.”

Morgan laughed, then turned to Hala. “What do you think? Is he fierce, or does he need to be pushed outside of his boundaries?”

Hala grinned, eyes heavy-lidded by his buzz. “He’s new to all of this, but I’m pretty damn good teacher.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow at me, then winked. “Is that so?”

I shrugged, smiling. “And I’m a fast learner.”

Morgan shifted his body, his heat moving closer to me. I could smell him—his sweat, the whiskey, pot, and then there was something clean underneath. He stretched his upper body forward, then, and in a single, practiced motion, peeled off his shirt. His chest was tan with freckles across his pecs, a line of reddish brown hair ran straight from his sternum down into the waistband of his shorts.

Hala was watching, mouth open just slightly. Morgan caught him looking, reached over and tugged at Hala’s shirt. “Your turn. Take this off.”

Hala sat up, stripped off the tee, flinging it to the floor. Morgan’s eyes took in Hala’s torso like it was a work of art. And it was indeed a masterpiece. I loved seeing another man marvel at Hala’s muscular form. Morgan ran a hand across the dark hair of Hala’s chest, feeling the hard muscle under the sweat-matted fur. Their bodies couldn’t have been more different—Morgan’s lanky sex appeal compared to Hala’s strong masculine form—and I found myself drawn to both of them.

Morgan looked at me expectantly. I played coy, but only for a second. I pulled my own shirt over my head, feeling the air from the ceiling fan on my skin, causing my nipples instantly harden.

“Fuck, you two are hot.” Morgan ran a finger across my chest, tracing the edge of my pec, and then made circles around my left nipple, making me squirm.

“Mmm,” he said. “I love seeing a man squirm.” And with that, he leaned into my chest and covered my breast with his mouth, sucking the center of my pec. Morgan kissed one of my nipples as he pinched two fingers on my other one. I was dumbfounded by pleasure I felt. I knew my nipples were sensitive but I’d experienced them feeling anything like this. With the tip of his tongue, Morgan drew circles around my nipple, and then lacked the middle of his tongue against it. I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him into my breast, aching for him to not stop. When he did come off my nipple, he went to my other one. To my shock, that nipple was even more sensitive than the first. Morgan’s mouth was bringing my body so much pleasure that I was embarrassed by the nonsensical pleasure I felt with his mouth working my tits over. At some point, the thrill became too much, overwhelming and I had to his mouth off of me and hungrily kiss him.

“See? What did I tell you?” Morgan cockily and exaggeratedly wagged his eyebrows at Hala. “I think I just unlocked a new kink for you to enjoy.”

Without missing a beat, Hala got a wild grin on his face, one fueled by mischief and cannabis. He whispered into Morgan’s ear, never taking those dark sexy eyes off of mine. And then, before I could object or foil their plan, they both leaned into me, pushing me back against the bed and both of them put their mouth on my nipples and each began stimulating my titties in their own unique way. Hala swirled his tongue around one as Morgan’s mouth sucked on the other. Morgan lapped against one tit as Hala flicked at the other tit. Beneath them, I squirmed and whimpered and became completely undone by the otherworldly pleasure I’d never experienced before. But then they synchronized their pleasures, both of them nibbling on my nips, each mixing in the occasional bite for good measure. I put my hands on the back of their heads, pushing their mouths hard against my pecs. When they both started suckling on my breasts, the pleasures darting through my body became unbearable, morphing my squeals into long groans and my squirms into convulsions of delight.

Hala was the first to move off my nipple. He planted firm kisses across my chest as he pushed my arm back and held it up above my head. Morgan pushed my other arm back above my head and held it there as his tongue continued to make love to my tit. Hala’s kisses shifted into licks as his face moved into my armpit. He moaned audibly as he lapped his tongue against the sweat-curled hair in my pits. Morgan came off my nipple and pushed his face hard into my wet pit, eating it out like it was his first meal in weeks. He ran his tongue up the length of my pit and then chuckled, “you’re pit is fucking ripe, dude. And I fucking love it.”

As Hala and Morgan feasted on my pits, the pleasures they were giving me sent chills through my body. Hala put his hand between my legs and started massaging my crotch.

“Morgan’s right, man,” said Hala, looking up at me, “your pits are nasty and yet their funk is making me so damn horny.”

I laughed. Hala laughed too. If Morgan hadn’t been so busy nuzzling my pit with his face, I’m positive he would have been laughing as well. The weed was making everything hilarious.

As Morgan leaned in and kissed my mouth, I felt him run his hand up and across my ribs and down over my stomach.

Hala sat up and crawled behind me, his legs straddling my body from behind, his crotch pressing against my lower back. I leaned back and rested my head against Hala’s chest. God, he felt good. Before long, I felt Hala’s hands slide over my shoulders, his palms groping both of breasts. He starts kneading my pecs with his fingers.

I had no idea what was about to happen. But I felt safe. I also felt wild, uninhibited, like I was willing to do almost anything.

I laughed as I watched Morgan almost fall off the bed trying to reach into his bag and find his joint. He pulled it out, cracked a goofy grin and took a long drag.

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Morgan hopped off the bed and Hala and I watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and let them drop. Morgan’s cock fell free. Hala gasped. I said “holy fuck” under my breath. Morgan wasn’t just hung, he was packing the biggest cock I had ever seen in my life. His dick long and thick and behind it was a beautiful set of balls.

Hala whispered in my ear. “Holy fuck, man. That’s a big fucking dick.”

I just nodded but couldn’t take my eyes off of Morgan’s enormous cock.

Morgan sat back down on the bed, the shaft of his hard cock brushing against my bare thigh. He reached for his whiskey, took a short pull, then passed it to Hala.

“Most guys are scared of it,” Morgan said, voice soft. “They see this think and freak out.”

I looked at him, then at Hala, then back at Morgan. “I’m not scared one fucking bit,” I said, “in fact, I might be more turned on now than I was before.”

Hala squeezed me tighter, then kissed the side of my neck. “Scared? Why the fuck would we be scared? Yes, it’s a big dick, that’s nothing to be scared of.”

Morgan laughed. “Fuck. I knew I liked you guys.” He tossed a pillow behind his head and leaned his back. He cupped his hands behind his neck and started telling us a story.

“You know, first time I ever hooked up with a guy was in a hostel kinda like this. It was two guys, actually. We didn’t even talk about it—just sort of… happened. It was like, they couldn’t help it, you know? The Trail tends to make you weirdly honest about what you want.”

Morgan stretched his legs apart, his massive cock standing straight up from a dense patch of ginger pubes. It was just couple feet away from me. I looked at Hala and he winked and so I crawled across the bed, slow, and took his cock in my hand. It was hot, and thick. I slid my hand up its shaft and then I looked up at Morgan. His eyes were glued on me, pupils sparkling.

I ran my tongue along the head, and then up to its slit. I licked his precum and took it into my mouth. It salty, slightly sweet. I licked down the length of his shaft, feeling his ridges and veins against my tongue, then I slid my lips over the tip and sucked on it, gently at first. It was a lot, but I loved how it felt in my mouth. There was a powerful feeling about bringing Morgan’s cock pleasure. It was an alive, exciting, filthy feeling .

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Morgan moaned.

Hala moved up beside me, joining me in between his legs, his arm around my waist. He leaned in and kissed Morgan’s cock. Hala took the cock into his mouth and I put my mouth on Morgan’s ballsack. It smelled strong, tasted salty. But I cleaned his hairy nuts off with my tongue. Above me Hala’a mouth had Morgan moaning. I kissed up his shaft. Hala came off of his cock. Our mouths met at the tip of Morgan’s fat dick. We both kissed the head of his cock. And our new friend moaned.

“Please, get up here and kiss me,” said Morgan, eyes hot on me.

I crawled up his body and tasted Morgan on his mouth. I felt Hala’s hand wander until it found my ass, kneading, squeezing, then sliding between my legs to cup my balls. I groaned loudly into Morgan’s mouth.

Morgan reached over and tapped Hala’s shoulder, motioning for him to bring his face close to his. Hala did and Morgan pulled him in, kissing him, their tongues battling for a second. When they broke, both were breathing hard.

“I really want to fuck one of you.” Morgan said, his voice filled with shy lust.

I looked at Hala, silently asking. He smiled, eyes wide. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d love to see his big fucking cock inside you.”

Hala and I both looked at Morgan. “We want you to fuck Chad’s ass,” Hala said.

I breathed deep. “I want you to fuck me, Morgan.”

Morgan beamed. “You sure?”

I grinned. “Yes, I’m very sure.”

Hala kissed my cheek. “And I’ll help.”

All three of us fell into a tangle of naked limbs and hot mouths, Morgan’s cock hot against my skin, Hala’s hands everywhere. I sucked Morgan again, this time deeper, feeling the stretch of my jaw, the rush of my forthcoming submission washing over me, making me feel hornier. Hala licked my neck, sucking on my earlobe, then slid his hand between my legs to stroke my cock.

Morgan stroked my hair, then pulled me off his cock, guiding me onto my back. Hala knelt beside me, his own cock hard and leaking, and I reached over and took him in my hand, squeezing him, stroking his beautiful perfect cock.

Morgan reached into his backpack and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube—preparation, or maybe just experience. He rolled the condom on his fat cock, slicked his hard length up with lube, then knelt between my legs.

Morgan moved on me slowly, carefully. After working my hole over with lubed fingers, he lined up his cock head at my entrance.

Morgan pressed against me. I grunt because the stretch was intense, overwhelmingly painful. Even with him being gentle, every new inch sent a wild burn into me, through me. Thankfully, as Morgan pushed his manhood into me, he also paused after every inch to let me adjust.

Every time I grimaced or screamed out, Hala leaned in and kissed my lips, my forehead, my neck, whispering encouragement.

“God, you’re hot when you’re being impaled,” Hala said, his voice thick. “You’re sweaty-pained expression is fucking turning me on.”

I grunted and squeezed Hala’s arms when I felt Morgan’s cock bottom out somewhere deep inside me. The moment he slid all the way in, he held himself there, shuddering and shaking. “Fuck, you feel amazing. You’re so tight.”

He fucked me, slow at first, then harder as I relaxed. The sensations he was putting into me were overwhelming, a hot painful pleasure that I needed and wanted to feel. As Hala watched me surrender to Morgan’s heat and fullness, his face turned into a needy display of lust. He reached between my legs and stroked my cock, his other hand caressing my chest, tweaking my nipples, and wiping the sweat off my face.

Morgan picked the pace, his skinny hips pushing that donkey dick in and out of me with a growing hunger. As my body slowly surrendered to Morgan’s dick, I felt tiny bursts of pleasure begin to pump throughout me. At times, the pleasures felt so unfamiliar and so deep inside me that I moaned uncontrollably and my limbs shook. Hala was there the whole time, kissing me, massaging me. When my moans became much too loud, he put his hairy nuts into mouth and told me suck them. And I did, like a hungry wild man, I chewed on his boss act like it was giving me nourishment.

I came first, hard, my orgasm tearing through me like a firestorm. Hala followed, spraying his load across my stomach and chest. Morgan held out, pounding faster and deeper, then finally let go, groaning as he filled the condom.

We collapsed onto the bed, sweating, gasping, bodies intertwined. Morgan pulled out of me slowly, then gently cleaned me up with a towel from his pack. Hala curled up on one side of me, Morgan on the other. Their arms found me, held me.

We lay there, not speaking, just breathing together, the afterglow thick and heavy.

Eventually, Morgan broke the silence. “Holy fuck. That was… incredible. You guys are fucking rock stars.”

I wiped the sweat from my face. “That was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

Hala kissed my neck, his body still pressed tight to mine. “It was fucking hot. I didn’t know how hot it would be to see my man get his ass pounded by another guy.”

Morgan laughed. “Sounds like Chad wasn’t the only one who unlocked a new kink.”

Hala and Morgan both laughed. I was too distracted to laugh. I turned over toward Hala. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you just call me “your man”?”

Hala kissed my mouth. “I did. Too soon?”

“Fuck, no. I loved it.”

“Ok, love bugs,” said Morgan smiling, his eyes drifting closed. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.

We curled up, the three of us, and drifted off together—sated, high, and happy.

It was just after five in the morning when I felt Morgan slide his arm out from under me and maneuver his way out of bed. His movements shook the bed’s boxspring, jarring me awake. The room was pitch black, save for the spill of light coming in from under the door.

Hala was dead asleep, one arm slung over my chest, his breath a slow even rasp against my shoulder. Morgan was standing at the end of the bed, naked. Though he was barely visible, even half asleep I was unable to miss the silhouette of his cock and balls.

He smiled when he saw my eyes open. “Hey, do you know what time you guys were planning to hit the trail today?”

I stretched, trying to shake the blur of sleep from my head. My body felt like it’d been steamrolled—my jaw ached, my ass was sore, and my whole body was sticky with the dried sheen of sweat and cum. I kinda liked it.

Hala stirred, and blinked at Morgan’s silhouette. “Everything okay? What time is it?”

“It’s 5:22 a.m.,” said Morgan, stretching his arms out above his head.

“Hala,” I said, covering my nasty breath with a hand, “what time did you want to get back on trail?”

I listened as Hala and Morgan discussed the options for today.

“Do we get up and try to get on the trail ASAP?” said Hala, “do you know how far away the next campsite is from here?”

“It’s a full-day’s hike—at least 18 miles. And it’s a mother fucker of a hike, too.”

I groaned. “I’m not sure I can do a whole day’s hike because somebody”—my eyes darted playfully toward Morgan—“tore my ass up a few hours ago.”

Morgan grimaced. “Sorry about that dude.” He grabbed his cock with a hand and shook it. “This cock has always been a mean mother fucker.”

All of us laughed. A moment later, Hala looked at me. “We could just take a zero day and rest up, then hit the trail first thing tomorrow?”

“But what about the room?” I said, “is it available tonight and more importantly, does Morgan want to share space with us for another day?”

Morgan picked up his phone and started tapping on it vigorously. Both Hala and I looked at him, wondering what he was he was doing. Finally, Hala asked. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“And also,” I added, “can you cover that cock of yours up? It’s making me horny.

Hala snickered. “This guy is always fucking horny.”

“Oh, my God,” I said, digging my fingers into Hala’s side and tickling him, “like you have any room to talk.”

We roll into each, our bodies instantly reacting to the hotness and familiarity of each other’s skins. I feel Hala’s cock stiffen beneath me as my own hardens against it. Our horny horseplay was interrupted by Morgan’s voice.

“Okay,” he said, tossing his phone on into his open backpack, “an official decision has been made about today.”

Hala rolled off of me, both of us giving Morgan our undivided attention.

“I just reserved this room for a second night. Which means, y’all are doing a zero day with me today. And at some point, I’m gonna take y’all to my favorite spot around here, a private hot springs up in the mountains. I think y’all will love it.”

“Dude, you are way too kind, man,” Hala said, “are you sure we’re not keeping you from your day hike?”

“No, not all. I’ll just wake up early tomorrow morning and hike with y’all for half the day… if you’re okay with that.”

Hala and I looked at each other and grinned. “We’d love that, man,” said Hala.

“But what do we owe you for the room?” I said, looking around the room for my wallet.

“Not a damn thing. It’s on me.” Morgan grinned.

“Come on, man. You gotta make us pay for it.”

Morgan’s kind smile turned wicked. He jerked his chin toward the hallway. “I mean, if y’all insist on paying me back.” He turned his gaze back toward us. “Perhaps we could settle y’all’s debt in the shower. ‘Cause if I’m sharing a room again with you, I want you fuckers to be clean.”

I laughed and felt my cock twitch, feeling it become half hard. Hala nodded, his hand sliding down to cup my balls.

“I think you have a deal, Morgan,” Hala said, pushing himself upright. “Lead the way.”

All three of us padded down the hallway, naked but for towels. The hostel was dead silent; everyone else was either still asleep or already on the Trail.

The bathroom was a row of concrete stalls with a line of sinks along one wall, the mirrors warped and covered in tooth paste stains. The air was chilly, but Morgan promised us the showers themselves blasted hot. He twisted the knob, spray bursting from the spigot, echoing off the tile. Within a few seconds, steam filled the air.

We hung our towels on a hook, then stepped under the water. Morgan stood between us, his face toward Hala, his ass pointing at me. Water sheeted down over his tan skin. His back was covered in a mix of freckles and few old scars. His calves were thick, muscled, the dark red hair matted with sweat.

We each pumped our palms full of liquid soap and started washing each other, our hands busy scrubbing the sweat, cum, and grime off of each other. Our fingers darted toward the dirtiest parts of each other’s bodies, mine washing Hala’s back and then scratching his hairy ass crack until it was clean. Morgan cleaned each of my pits before sliding his hands into my crotch to wash my junk. At the same time, Hala’s fingers found my ass. After thoroughly cleaning, my crack, I felt one of his fingers began to play with my hole. Hala and I both cleaned Morgan. I washed the front of his body. And Hala cleaned his back and ass.

All of us took turns standing under the shower head to rinse our bodies. When we were all clean, we stood in a circle, looking at each other, each of us seemingly needing a moment to take each other in.

Hala moved first, spinning Morgan’s body around so that he was facing the wall. He pressed himself against Morgan’s back, his hands roaming Morgan’s shoulders, chest, stomach. I stood just behind, watching, my dick swelling as I took in the beautiful sight. Morgan leaned into Hala, their lips touching. After kissing for a few moments, Hala pushed Morgan’s head back, and his mouth kissed our friend’s neck, then his ear, then the sloped of his shoulder.

I moved closer, pressing my cock against Morgan’s hip, my hands tracing the curve of his ribs, the firmness of his abs. I kissed his shoulder, then ran my tongue down his spine, tasting his clean skin. Morgan shuddered.

Hala slid a hand between Morgan’s legs, wrapping a palm around his balls. He pulled on his nutsack until he could see on Morgan’s face that it hurt, then he let go and stroked his cock. Morgan groaned as I pushed his back forward, then braced himself against the wall.

I knelt behind him, one hand on each of his firm pretty asscheeks. I gently spread him apart and took a moment to enjoy the view of his trench. There was dense mat of dark reddish hair on both sides of crack. The hair got thicker on the bottom side of his ass. The only hairless spot in Morgan’s crack was the hot little pink star right in the middle. I buried my face into his canyon. I felt his whole body respond above me as I flicked the tip of my tongue against his hole. His scent was dizzying, a soapy clean mixed with just enough of his natural manly musk. I licked up the length of his crack, my tongue flat and hungry, his flavors driving my senses wild. I spat into his crack and then made circles with my tongue around his hole. My licks were slow, intentional, prodding.

Morgan’s moan echoed off tiles of the bathroom walls. “Fuck, that feels good,” he said, his voice breathy, almost weak.

I kept going, fucking him with my tongue, pushing toward his tight little ring, licking and sucking until my chin was slick and my lips were numb. Hala watched, stroking Morgan’s big prick, then joined me, kneeling beside me, the two of us sharing Morgan’s asshole, licking, kissing, and poking it, sometimes both of us at once.

Morgan reached back, grabbed our heads, pulled us into him. His body quaked with need, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Hala shifted, leaned in, and pressed his tongue alongside mine, the two of us tongue fucking him in tandem. Morgan whimpered, almost a sob, hips bucking hard against our faces.

When we finally pulled back, Morgan turned around, eyes wild, his cock fully hard. It was as thick as my wrist, the head flared, veins bulging up the shaft.

Hala grabbed it again, stroking it slowly, before taking it in his mouth. He choked on its girth but adjusted, taking more and more, his head finding the perfect angle in which to take as much of it as he could. I watched, transfixed, impressed with my man’s talents for sucking cock. I leaned in and licked the underside of Morgan’s shaft, running my tongue along the thick vein while Hala bobbed up and down.

Morgan let his hands fall to our heads, guiding, not forcing. “Jesus, you guys,” he said, “y’all are paying me back with interest.”

Hala and I traded off, each taking turns sucking him, one of us working the shaft while the other licked his balls, his taint, his ass. At one point, Hala pulled back and told me to deep-throat it, and I tried—shoving Morgan’s cock into me until my eyes watered. He groaned, lust taking him over.

Hala turned to me and kissed me, the taste of Morgan’s cock on both our tongues. He licked my lips, then slid down and sucked my dick, hard and fast, his rhythm showcasing his hunger for me. I leaned against the cold tile, barely able to balance myself.

Then Hala moved, his beautiful body laid flat on the shower floor, his head pillowed against the shower’s outside ridge, his mouth open and waiting. Morgan moved to stand over him, straddling his face, lowering his big balls onto Hala’s hungry lips.

Hala opened wide, taking both nuts in at once, sucking them in, rolling them with his tongue. Morgan gasped, knees buckling, his cock falling against Hala’s cheek. I knelt beside them, jerking my own cock, then leaned in to help, licking Hala’s face, sucking Morgan’s shaft, occasionally letting the head slap against my lips.

At one point, Hala grabbed my hand and pressed it to his own cock, which was hard and leaking. I stroked him, twisting my hand around the head, smearing the pre-cum all over his shaft.

“Fuck me,” Morgan said, voice trembling.

He turned around, bracing himself on all fours, and looked back at us. His hole was still wet from our tongues, open and eager. “Please, I have never been fucked in the ass. And I want you to pop my pink cherry.”

I turned off the shower. Stuck my head out to make sure we were still alone. Hala slicked his cock with saliva, lined it up, and pushed in slow. Morgan groaned, burying his face in his forearms, sinking his body on to Hala’s hard cock. Hala started slow, gentle, but soon picked up the pace, slapping his hips up and into Morgan’s ass, the sound echoing through the tiled room.

Hala pulled his cock out, wanting to switch positions. I pulled Morgan up from his squat, he bent himself over and Hala entered him from behind, fucking his ass doggy style. I watched as Hala fucked Morgan’s hole faster and harder, his balls slapping against his ass. He grabbed Morgan’s hips, pulling him back with every thrust. Morgan gasped at the force and depth at which Hala penetrated him. But he did not pull away.

I stood in front of Morgan, offering my cock, and he took it eagerly, sucking me deep, working his tongue around the head. His eyes stayed on mine, intense, blue and unblinking.

When Hala was close, he pulled out, stroking himself, and shot his load across Morgan’s ass and lower back. Just the sight of it made me want to explode. But not yet.

“It’s your turn,” Hala said, looking at me. “Fuck that hot ass, Chad.”

I nodded, and told Morgan to stand upright, flat against the wall. I lined myself up. I pushed into Morgan’s pretty little star, using Hala’s cum as my lube. The heat was unreal, tight and pulsing. I started slow, savoring the feeling, but the urge built quick. I drove into him, holding nothing back, pounding harder and harder. Morgan squealed and whimpered as his body surrendered itself to my cock, to the pleasure it was bringing him.

I was close, the pressure building, and I fucked harder, grabbing Morgan’s hips, slamming into him with every ounce of strength. He pushed back, his body convulsing, but meeting my every thrust, hungry for more.

When I came, it was like being struck by lightning—my vision blurred, my body shuddered, my hands dug into Morgan’s hips so hard I worried I’d bruise him. I emptied myself inside him, holding myself inside of him.

Morgan started jerking himself, fast and desperate.

Hala got on his knees and ordered Morgan to shoot his load all over his face. Seconds later, Morgan roared as his first shot went over Hala’s head, the second one flying across the bridge of his nose, the third onto his lips, and his last right into Hala’s now open mouth. Morgan sank to his knees, breathing hard. Hala savored his taste. And then he and I wrapped ourselves around Morgan’s body, holding him tight.

For a long time, nobody spoke. The only sound was the echo of our breathing.

Eventually, Hala kissed my cheek. “You okay?”

I nodded, unable to stop smiling. “Never better.”

Morgan laughed, rolling onto his back, his cock still half-hard, his whole body flushed and trembling. “That was fucking insane.”

Hala grinned. “You taste fucking good, by the way,” he said.

Morgan pulled us both in, and the three of us kissed, mouths hungry and open, trading spit and cum whatever else was left.

We turned the shower back on, washed ourselves again, then rinsed off, and toweled each other dry.

Back in the room, we dressed, then fell into the bed, our bodies and minds buzzing.

I grabbed Hala’s hand. He took my hand into his. For the first time in my life, I felt whole.

Then Hala spoke up, “hey Morgan, can we take a nap before we go on that adventure you promised?”

Morgan didn’t answer. A few moments later, we heard him snoring. We laughed, and then closed our eyes, our bodies, finally giving in to their need for sleep.

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The Hike-Part 9

The Gay Erotic — Tue, 17 Feb 2026 19:11:32 GMT

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The rain started. And then, came the wind. We heard it hissing in the treetops, but we didn’t feel it much. At least, not yet. Hala and I had made it a few miles past the ridge. Our hike was starting to get hard. The old adrenaline was finally starting to burn out and become replaced by a lingering soreness. But I didn’t mind the pain.

The trail was lush and dripping, the forest around us was so green, it looked almost otherworldly. We didn’t talk much as we hiked. I had a feeling we were both still chewing on the same thing: the stories about River, and Whit’s warnings, and the fact that somewhere up ahead, maybe just a few days’s hike away, someone was murdering hikers.

The sky was already dark by the time the first drops hit the brim of my hat. I stopped to shake them off, and when I looked up, Hala was staring at the sky, lips parted, like he expected the clouds to spit out something messier than water.

“You okay?” I asked Hala. “You seem nervous or preoccupied about something. Think the storm is going to really hit us?”

He sniffed, shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so. I guess I am a little anxious because doesn’t everything out here hit us, eventually?” Hala checked the radar on his phone again. Not much had changed—every time he checked it, we were reminded that, if we didn’t make it to the next shelter soon, we were going to be fucked. Shoving his phone back into his backpack, Hala said, “We might actually make it before it gets too bad.”

I wanted to believe him, but I was also tired as fuck. We picked up our pace, boots slipping on the wet rock. The wind came up hard. We could definitely feel it now. At one point, I felt a branch slap my shoulder so hard it stung, and Hala grabbed my arm to steady me.

“Jesus, Chad. Are you okay?”

I nodded, even though my heart was beating out of my chest. “Yeah. I just got my a wakeup call.”

We were still laughing about it when, out of nowhere, a park ranger appeared.

He didn’t really appear. He was just standing there, by a fork in the trail, an obvious choice that wasn’t on the map. He wore the hat, the whole deal: green uniform, boots that looked older than me, a belt with the biggest utility knife I’d ever seen. And his badge, which had the word “Payton” printed across it. Payton had a beard that was trimmed close, neat like a military haircut.

But his eyes were intense. They locked on us and didn’t let go. When we got close, he nodded his head in our direction.

“So, how’s it going, boys?” he said, “You two headed up north?”

We both stopped quickly. Hala had to put a hand out so that my chest wouldn’t run into him.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual, “Just hoping to make it to the next shelter before we’re in the shittiest of this weather.”

Payton looked up, cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, fellas, I got some bad news for you. This weather is not going to let you make it to the next shelter. The storm’s moving faster than you are.”

His voice was bone-fucking dry, just lifeless. “I’d recommend you two hunkering down for a couple of hours. There’s a maintenance cabin you could hide out in. And it’s not too far away, just a bit off the main trail. I can show you the way, if you would like.”

I didn’t know whether to trust this guy. My brain was so fucking filled with stories about shitty experiences on the trail, I was losing my ability to make discerning decisions.

Of course, everything from his uniform to his body language said “legit ranger,” but the memory of last night’s warnings prickled the back of my neck. Maybe Hala was thinking the same thing, because he hesitated for a second but then said, “That would be awesome, actually. Thank you”

Payton grinned, just a little. “I’m off shift, so I’ll escort you as far as the cabin and then let you two be. Sound good?”

I wanted to look at Hala, to check in, but Payton’s gaze was magnetic. I just nodded. “That’s cool, and it’s very kind of you.”

We followed him. He didn’t talk much at first, just walked ahead. His steps were long, steady strides, which made us have to work some just to keep up. His backpack was military style, and he carried a thick walking stick that doubled as a trail tool, the end of it was blackened by years of use.

After a minute or two, the rain started to pick up. We had to squint to see, the drops slapping us like spitballs.

Payton led us off the trail onto a side path, a route so narrow that I wondered if it had been made by deer rather than humans. We ducked branches and stumbled over roots. The world closed in: green and wet and almost as dark as night. The wind sounded like a freight train above us, but under the thick tree canopy it was less crazy.

“Not much farther, y’all,” Payton called back. “Are you boys from around here?”

Hala said, “No, we’re not locals. We started down in Georgia. Been at it a few weeks now.”

Payton looked over his shoulder at us, and I got the weirdest feeling that he already knew that about us. “You know, there’s not a lot of couples who do this trail together,” he said, like he was just making conversation.

Hala laughed. “We weren’t a couple when we started the trail. We met on our first day.”

“You could have fooled me,” Payton said, and this time he actually smiled. It was wolfish. He kept walking.

The “cabin” turned out to be a squat concrete rectangle with a tin roof and a battered door. Not much bigger than a garden shed, with two narrow windows and an outhouse fifty feet away. Payton unlocked the door with a key he kept on a necklace. Inside, it was dry, with a cot against the wall, a little wood stove, and a table littered with old maps and faded packs of ramen.

He waved us inside, then flicked on a battery lantern. “Make yourselves at home. You can dry out here until the storm passes.”

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The Hike-Part 8-The Stranger Named River

The Gay Erotic — Mon, 12 Jan 2026 19:07:27 GMT

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For some reason, the river didn’t appear on the map, or at least not the way it looked in real life. It seemed broader and deeper than what the map made it look. Hala and I staggered toward the clearing just as the sun started dipping behind the trees, our packs sagging on our backs from the hardest thirty miles of our hiking adventures so far. I wanted to collapse, but the sight of the river’s water—even more than some promise of sleep—pulled me forward, dragging me down the last slippery slope.

Once we were there, we realized that somebody was already set up for camp there, kneeling by the fire ring. For a second, my body stiffened, the way it did when we came upon a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Then I caught sight of the man’s shoulders, bare and shining in the sun’s golden light, the muscles in his back etched and defined by highlights and shadows. The man wore only a pair of nylon shorts, his hair was a wild sweep of black and brown that glimmered every time he bent himself toward the fire’s flames.

Hala slowed down, taking in our surroundings with interest. He looked at me and smirked, as if to say, “Uh, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

And yes, I was seeing it. Hell, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The man by the fire moved with a strange confidence, every gesture feeling both casual and calculated, like he knew we were watching his every move and was letting us. Eventually, he looked up and caught us staring, and instead of shrinking, he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and smiled—fuck, his smile was so fucking bright it should have come with some kind of a warning.

“Evening, gentlemen,” he said. The stranger’s voice was low, smooth, with an accent that sounded like it may be from somewhere in the midwest. His body was perfection, a muscular frame that put both Hala’s and mine to shame. The man looked like trouble in the best possible way.

Hala set his pack down with an exhausting grunt. “Hey,” he said, brushing sweat from his brow. “Would it be okay if we crash here, too?”

The man nodded and looked at around at the large empty patch of green. “Of course. There’s plenty of space. I’m River, by the way.” He said his name like he was telling a story, one that he didn’t expect us to believe.

But Hala and I were much too tired to question the guy’s name. Hala smiled at him. “I’m Hala. And this is Chad.” He nodded at me, and then I watched his eyes scan me from head to toe, and for a second, I felt like I was being reviewed.

After River looked me up and down, he gave Hala an obvious once over, too, not shy enough to even try and hide it. Once we were closer, I could see that River’s eyes were green, like that goddamn color of spruce trees. I’d never seen anything like them before.

“You guys look like you two have had a fucking day.” River’s eyes looked at Hala, then at me.

“You have no fucking idea,” I said, trying to smile. I dropped my pack and let it hit the ground harder than I wanted it too.

River’s gaze flicked to Hala, lingered a second longer than what felt normal, then moved back to the fire. “You want in on some dinner?” he asked. “I’ve got plenty.”

Hala shrugged. “Sure, man. That would be awesome. Can we help you with anything?”

River didn’t answer at first. He just looked at us, both of us, obviously measuring us and making estimates on what we’d be able to handle. Then he smiled again, less forced this time. “If you want to grab some firewood, that’d be helpful. I’ll get some water going.”

We went off into the trees, gathering logs and fallen branches, anything that looked like it might be able to burn. As we foraged, Hala whispered in my ear.

“Jesus, Chad,” he said, voice pitched so low I could hardly hear him. “Did you see the fucking abs on that man?”

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The Hike-Part 7

The Gay Erotic — Wed, 03 Dec 2025 15:21:14 GMT

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The next morning, we woke up early—soaked in the sour-sweet smell of dried sweat, cum, and the great outdoors. I don’t believe that I had ever slept better in my entire life. Hala was curled up next to me me, his chin resting on my arm, his light snore vibrating through my chest. For a few lazy moments, I just watched him—his wild hair tangled and hanging over his brow, his lips parted and wet. His breath smelled like shit but I didn’t care. I loved having him near me, our bodies locked together, vulnerable, naked, falling for each other.

I brushed Hala’s shoulder, and he blinked awake. For a second, he just stared at me, eyes still trying to focus, then he grinned wide and his whole face crinkled.

“You look like shit,” he said.

I licked my lips and smiled. “Well, good morning to you too.”

He reached down and gave my morning wood a lazy squeeze through the bag. “It feels like you might have a problem going on down here, Chad.”

“I always have a problem going on down there—a big problem,” I said, rolling toward him. We tangled for a bit, a mix of half-serious wrestling and making out, until I finally pinned him under me and kissed his cheek, his jaw, then straight on his mouth.

“Breakfast?” I asked when I came up for air.

He nodded, but didn’t let go of me. “Don’t ever leave, Chad.”

I wanted to laugh at how corny he sounded, but instead, I said, “Never. Not a fucking chance,” and I meant it.

We dressed really fast. Hala boiled water for coffee. I scaled up the incline behind our campsite because I needed to take a piss, but mostly, I wanted to get a look at what lay ahead. A short scramble later, I found myself on a high ridge, standing on a boulder the size of a damn, the world below opening beneath my feet.

The view was fucking insane—a unending forest of pine trees and stone, endless ridges receding into the haze. Directly below, maybe 30 or 40 feet down, was a lake so clear and blue it looked unreal, like something out of a fantasy movie. The wind up here was wild, slapping at my face and whipping my shirt against my skin. I yelled out loud, just to hear the echo bounce off the ridges.

When I came back down, Hala was squinting at the lake with the map in his lap. “If we go up the saddle, we can drop down the back side and make the next shelter by dusk. There’s supposed to be a waterfall just past the far end.” He pointed, already in logistics mode.

I sat next to him, letting my knee brush his. “You ever jump off a cliff into a lake?”

He turned, eyes narrowed, smile threatening to break loose. “Well, not a real cliff. Closest I got was the roof of my cousin’s shed. You?”

“Only once. My senior year. And it was so fucking high. I thought I was gonna pass out before I hit the water. You up for giving it try it?”

The Hike Part 3 is right here.

The Hike-PART 6: The Bear

The Gay Erotic — Sun, 02 Nov 2025 18:55:46 GMT

We woke up to the rattle of the hostel’s window-AC unit shaking. It was hardly working, which explained why we were all covered in sweat and God knows what else. Hala’s breath was warm on my shoulder. Morgan’s arm was slung over both of us, his hand instinctively cupping my ass like he owned it. Which I suppose was technically; our new friend had most definitely owned my ass at least twice.

For a minute, I didn’t want to move. I didn’t care that we were all dirty and that we smelled like shit, I could have spent the whole day right there, marinating in our filth. But that was not possible, not today—the trail was calling us.

Morgan was the first one of us to get out of bed, scratching his nuts and sniffing his own pits, wincing as the stench that hit him.

“Good god,” he said, “I’m not sure I’ve smelled so bad in my life.”

I nodded and laughed. “Yeah, you’re not the only one, man. Collectively, we smell like what I imagine a cum dumpster smells like.”

Morgan looked at me. “I’m pretty sure I was a literal cum dumpster last night.”

Smiling, I said, “Fuck, I guess my comparison works better than I thought.”

Hala blinked awake, grinned, and rolled over to bury his face in my chest. “I’d rather smell like this than like a hospital. Or a cubicle. Or… whatever normal people smell like. Is it terrible that I kind of like our stink?”

“Nope,” I said, kissing the top of his head, “I’m kinda into it too. And too, I don’t want to ever go back to whatever normal is.”

All of us were still naked when the cleaning lady—an older woman, short, with no fucks left to give—knocked and then barged in, stopping dead at the sight of our pile. She made a noise that could have been disgust or maybe envy—it was hard to know—but she offered a fast apology and then muttered something about “very dirty boys” and tossed fresh towels onto the floor before retreating.

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The Hike-Part 5, Morgan’s Surprise

The Gay Erotic — Wed, 15 Oct 2025 00:10:47 GMT

Read Part 4 here…

“You been awake long?” I whispered with a grin.

Morgan smiled, lazy. “Long enough to watch you suck my cock with your eyes. You’re cute when you’re all lusty and think nobody’s looking.”

I shook my head and chucked. “Morgan. You’re a freak, and I fucking love you for it.”

Hala mumbled, his lips on my shoulder. “Is there coffee?”

Morgan snorted. “Of course, there’s always coffee.”

The Hike—Part 4, That Threesome

The Gay Erotic — Sun, 28 Sep 2025 22:31:13 GMT

“Jesus, Hala,” I said, my mouth thick with sleep. “We on a fire watch or something?”

I sat up, head buzzing with the familiar cocktail of exhaustion and post-coital afterglow. Hala flashed his lamp in my direction, took in my nakedness, and gave a low, appreciative Mmm.

“If you keep laying there like that,” he said, “we’re never going to get out of this tent.”

I grinned, stretching my arms over my head and flexing just enough to show off. “Thought you liked it when I’m lazy.”

Hala’s morning breath was foul, but I didn’t care.

He tucked the sleeping bag tighter around me, like a mom tucking in her kid, then patted my chest. “Cover up. It’s cold as fuck out there.”

I rolled my eyes but did as I was told. “But you just said we needed to move or we’d be miss out on the good shit.”

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The Hike-Part 3

The Gay Erotic — Fri, 19 Sep 2025 20:06:42 GMT

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When I woke up the next morning, it was to sunlight, the stench of a sex hangover, and the welcomed weight of Hala’s naked body beside me. We’d managed to squeeze both our bodies into my sleeping bag, which was now a damp, feverish nest of heat and stink. I blinked, once, twice. My body hurt. My jaw ached in a way that was both new and unexpected. I didn’t want to move, except that I had to piss so bad my bladder felt like it would rupture.

My left arm was numb beneath Hala’s neck, but my right was swung over his hips, hand wrapped around his thick cock. He was hard as a rock—no surprise—but I was startled by how natural it felt in my hand, how familiar it felt. I flexed, just to prove to myself that I could. Hala grunted in his sleep and shifted, pressing his ass into my crotch. I was hard, too, partly because I needed to piss but also because of how fucking right this felt.

The smell in the tent was riotous: sweat, dirt, wood smoke, morning breath, and that unmistakable odor of sex. Man sex smelled different than sex with women, more potent, a mix of armpits, cum, and ass. I think I liked the scent.

As I tried to move my body inside the sleeping bag, I felt the crusted presence of jizz against my thigh and my stomach. My hole felt sore, a deep, beautiful ache. When I squeezed, I could still feel the faint, slippery residue of Hala’s orgasm inside me.

Perhaps I should have been disgusted. Maybe I should have panicked. Instead, I closed my eyes and relaxed in it.

“Chad,” came the voice from below, thick with sleep and something else. “You’re crushing my nuts, dude.”

I opened my eyes and realized my hand had been squeezing Hala’s crotch harder than I thought. “Sorry,” I mumbled, but I didn’t let go. Instead, I moved my hand and started to stroke him gently, slow, my thumb twisting up under the head.

Hala groaned and rolled, tugging my arm up to his chest, pulling my hand tighter against his dick. “You always wake up this horny?” he asked, eyes still closed, mouth slack with a smile.

“Not always,” I said, “but that might be changing.”

He reached behind, found my hard cock, and squeezed. “Good. I want you just like this. Always. Every morning.”

I laughed, but it was shaky. His words cut me somewhere deep. Nobody had ever said they wanted me to be like that before. Me being horny all the time was always an annoyance to Kelsey. Come to think of it, my constant horniness annoyed most of the women I slept with.

“Fuck, I need to pee,” I said, but neither of us moved. We just stayed there, wrapped around each other, dicks in each other’s hands, for at least another five minutes.

Eventually, the need won out. Hala wiggled free, threw open the tent flap, and staggered outside, bare-assed, confident, his cock swinging like a flag in the chill dawn air. I watched him go, mesmerized by his body’s every muscle, the thick black hair on his legs and ass catching shimmers in the sun. He pissed with full volume, one hand on a hip, the other at the base of his dick, head thrown back.

I crawled out after him, shivering and nearly tripping over the sleeping bag. My ass was sore, still feeling the effects of having been ass fucked for the first time by Hala’s big cock. And if I’m honest, I sort of loved that.

I joined him a few feet from camp, letting my own stream arc and splash against a rock. We stood there, side by side, naked, morning woods out for the world. He looked at me, sideways, then up and down, admiring.

“Guess there’s no hiding it now,” I said.

Hala shrugged, then grinned. “I like what I see.”

He reached over and, with a casualness that was intimate and hot as fuck, grabbed my cock and started stroking me as I finished pissing. His hand was a bit rough, sure, but he was also gentle in a way that made my knees weak. He used his other hand to tilt my face toward his, then kissed me, right there in the open, tongues lazy, lips sticky with sleep.

I tasted my own mouth with a hint of last night’s sex. I let myself lean into him, really lean, until I was clinging to his back and our cocks were mashed together between our stomachs. We were both hard, both of us still had drops of piss coming out of our cocks. But neither of us cared. Our lust for each other was all consuming. Both of us felt it. But I think we were just beginning to feel comfortable expressing our primal desires for each other.

Hala broke the kiss. “You want me to fuck you again?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” I said, my voice sounding needy. And I didn’t even try to hide how much I wanted him inside me. “I want you to fuck me, Hala. I’m all fucking yours.”

He looked at me, his eyes turning dark with hunger. “Right here?”

“Anywhere you want.”

There was no foreplay. Hala turned me around, bent me over a smooth boulder, and spat in his palm. He pressed his chest to my back, wrapping me in his arms, and then I felt his hard beautiful cock at my hole, thick and ready. My hole, though tender from the pounding he gave me last night, it was also still slick with his cum, too. His dick’s head pushed into me easier than last night—there was still burn, still that wild electric jolt of being stretched and filled, but this time, it was matched with my own aching need.

I gasped as I felt him fill me up, but I didn’t protest. I wanted this. I wanted him inside me. I craved him to own me and use me and ruin me. He started slow, holding my hips, rocking into me with gentle pushes. The sensation was different in daylight, rawer, dirtier. I could feel every inch of him, the ridge, the heat, the throb. And I wanted to experience all that he wanted to give me.

He leaned down and bit my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and then he ran his tongue along the edges of my neck and wrapped his mouth around my earlobe. I leaned my whole body into him. “God, you feel so fucking good, Chad,” he growled in my ear. “I could fuck you all day.”

“Please do,” I said. “I love how you feel in inside me, Hala. It’s we’re one being. Please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He went into me, slow but deep, then his pushes and pulls became faster, hips smacking against my ass. I leaned over more and pushed my body against his, fucking against his cock and his cock fucked into me. I braced myself with my hands, letting my body open up fully and surrender to Hala’s needs. I let out a groan, and then another one. At some point, the pleasure overtook me and I was groaning like an animal.

Hala must have sensed that I was close, because he reached his hand around and started stroking my cock in tandem with each of his thrusts. I couldn’t last. I didn’t want to. I let go, squealing out into the wide open space, my moan echoing through a valley below us. My jizz shot hard against the rock, painting it with ropes of my cum. I can’t be sure but I think seeing me orgasm pushed him over the edge.

Hala slammed his cock deep into me, staying there, his whole body shuddering as he filled me up a second time. I could feel it, the hot, pulsing bloom of his semen, the way his cock jerked inside me, every spasm sending heat up my spine.

He collapsed against my back, both of us panting and laughing, sticky with sweat and spent lust.

“You’re a fucking animal,” I said. “And I love it.”

He kissed my neck as he gently pulled his cock out of my body. I grunted at the sudden emptiness I felt. I looked behind me and saw Hala staring at my well-fucked hole.

“Don’t move,” he said, “stay right there for a minute.”

I didn’t move. Hala stood behind, a wild and dirty grin on his face.

“This might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, “I don’t know why, really, but watching my cum drool out of your hole is sexy as fuck.”

A thick, white line of cum trailed out of my asscrack and down my thigh. Hala scooped it up with a finger and painted it back against my hole, and then he licked his finger clean.

“Holy fuck,” I said, feeling stuck between wondering if that was hot or utterly disgusting.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, grinning. “And I don’t fucking care. It’s hot. And I’d do it again.”

“Then, share it with me,” I said, turning around and putting my lips on his, pushing my tongue into his mouth and tasting a bitter mix of his cum and my ass.

We stood there, still naked, still half hard. Then Hala grabbed my hand and dragged me down the slope to the river. The water was cold, but we waded in anyway, smiling and shivering as the chill bit into our skin. He grabbed my hair and dunked me, then scrubbed my back with those rough hands of his, careful to clean every inch. I did the same for him, lathering his pits, his chest, every part of him that I could reach.

We stood waist-deep, the current tugging at our bodies as we rinsed off the evidence of our sex. I looked at him, water streaming down his face, hair slicked to his scalp, and I felt something bright and dangerous catch in my chest. He grinned at me, then moved closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Chad,” he said, his voice soft and earnest, “do you know how fucking beautiful you are?”

I shook my head. I sighed. And I felt my cheeks blush pink. “No one’s ever said that to me.”

“Well, I am saying it now.”

He kissed me, passionately and deep.

We clambered out, and dried off in the morning sunlight. When we finally dressed, I felt lighter than I had in months. Maybe years.

We packed up camp, shouldered our gear, and started up toward the next ridge. I couldn’t stop looking at Hala, watching the way the sunlight caught his handsome face.

The day’s hike was brutal, and we loved it.

The sun hit the treetops hard, baking everything below in a wet, heavy heat. The first mile out of camp was a vertical climb—switchbacks so steep my lungs were on fire before we hit the second bend—but I ignored it. Hala and I hiked like our bodies were made for this, laughing off the pain, our sweat the glue that held us together.

Both of us had ripped off our shirts. My shorts chafed at the crotch; the band of my briefs was already soaked through. I glanced at Hala and saw he was struggling with the same—his shorts rode low, barely containing the sway of his dick, the thick band of body hair around his hips framing it like an invitation.

He caught me looking and just grinned. “Trying to outdo me on being a walking thirst trap, Chad?”

I shrugged, smiling innocently. “No contest, man.”

He shook his head, then grabbed my shoulder as we clambered over a fallen log. His hand lingered, thumb tracing the groove just above my triceps. I didn’t pull away. It was nothing, but also everything. No one had ever touched me like that.

The trail flattened for a stretch, cutting through a line of dead birches. We moved fast, chasing each other in bursts, stopping only to drink from our water bottles or to peer at wildlife. There was a moment, mid-morning, when we came around a bend and found ourselves at the edge of a wide, grassy meadow. In the shadow of a tangle of wildflowers, three deer stood, heads high and ears up. We froze, afraid to spook them.

Hala whispered, “Beautiful, huh?”

I looked at the deer, then at him. “Yeah,” I said. “Insanely.”

He took my hand and squeezed, just once, before letting go. The deer moved off, vanishing into the trees, but I could still feel the heat of his grip.

We hiked in a kind of trance after that, both of us gliding on some shared energy. Every brush of our arms, every casual contact was a little more charged than before. Once, when we stopped to refuel with a shared bag of dried fruit, I watched a bead of sweat roll down Hala’s sternum and pool at his navel. I wanted to lick it off, then follow the line of hair down to his shorts, pull him out and suck him dry. My face went red at the thought.

He noticed. He always noticed. “You okay, Chad? You look like you’re dying over there.”

I coughed, popped a mango piece into my mouth. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

I hesitated, then lied. “How you never seem to get tired.”

He laughed. “That’s what you’re thinking about?” He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to fuck you right here, with the sun on your back. Bet you’d moan so loud you’d scare every animal within ten miles.”

I choked, coughed, then tried to play it off. But my cock was hard, straining against the mesh liner of my shorts.

We kept walking. The trail dropped, following the line of a river. A beaver broke the surface, a gnawed branch clamped in its mouth. Hala pointed, eyes wide with childish joy. “That’s a real one. I thought they were like, mythical.”

I laughed, “You city people, man.”

He side-eyed me, then reached over and slapped my ass, hard enough to sting. “You like me,” he said.

He was right. I did.

It wasn’t just the lust. I mean, yeah, I was leaking him out of me all morning, every step a reminder of what we’d done. But there was something else—some hungry, electric need that went way deeper than just getting off.

We took a break at a flat stretch of rock above the water. Hala sprawled out, arms and legs spread, soaking up the sun. I sat beside him, stealing glances, trying to decide if I could touch him in daylight, if I was allowed to so openly.

He made the decision for me. “Chad,” he said, voice serious for once. “Can you feel it? My cum, still inside you?”

I laughed and nodded. “Uh…Yeah. I can. In fact, you’re seeping from me right now.”

He sat up, eyes burning, and grabbed me by the neck. “Fuuuuccckkk, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever thought about,” he said, then kissed me, hard, tongue demanding, like he wanted to taste himself on my lips.

I melted into it, letting him press me back onto the rock, our chests heaving, our sweat mixing again. We made out like teenagers, desperate and shameless. My shorts tented, leaking pre into the fabric. Hala’s was the same, a dark stain spreading around the outline of his cock.

When he broke away, he stared at me, face red, lips swollen. “I want you again,” he said. “But we gotta make the miles first. Think you can hike with me dripping out of you all day?”

I licked his mouth, tasting salt. “I kinda love it.”

He smiled, then pulled me to my feet.

We didn’t say much for the rest of the day, but every so often, Hala would reach over and tug at my waistband, or run his palm up the sweaty line of my back, or slap my ass.

I wanted to be his. It scared the shit out of me. But it felt like everything I’d ever wanted.

We made camp ahead of schedule, somehow. Maybe it was the euphoria, or maybe just the promise of a soft patch of ground and another night of nothing but each other, but we crushed our miles. The last ridge opened up onto a plateau with a shallow pond at the center—a perfect, primitive campsite. There was nobody else for at least half a mile. The only witnesses were the frogs and dragonflies.

I threw my pack down and let out a yell, half primal, half relief. Hala echoed it, and we both flopped onto our backs, breathing hard, faces turned to the blue.

After a minute, he rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. “You ever catch your own food?” he asked.

I snorted. “I’ve fished with my dad, but we always just threw them back.”

Hala’s mouth twitched. “Well, I might be from the city, but my father was a pro at fishing. On camping trips, he’d fish all day and then we used to eat what we caught, right there on the shore. He’d gut and clean the fish with a pocketknife if he had to.” He paused, eyes drifting. “He could be a bastard, but man, he could fish.”

He stood, looking around, then pointed at a fallen pine tree. “Let’s see if there’s anything biting in that pond.”

We left our packs and wandered over, barefoot, toes sinking into the spongy moss. Hala grabbed a dead branch from the fallen tree and broke it down, then pulled a spool of yellow string from his kit. He whittled the end into a point, tied off a length of string, and then dug a bent hook from his patch kit.

He worked quickly, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth. I watched, entranced by the skill. He found a fat, wriggling worm under a nearby log and impaled it.

“You’re fucking savage,” I said, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

He shrugged. “Gotta eat. Besides, you’ll thank me later.”

Hala tossed the line with an underhand flick, and it splashed maybe ten feet out. We waited, crouched together, my arm pressed against his. We waited and waited. He checked the bait a few times. For what seemed like a long time, Hala patiently waited for something to grab onto his makeshift fishing rod. And then, when he was just about to give up, the line jerked.

“Oh, my God!” I said, “you got something!”

Hala pulled it in, and there it was—a wriggling, silvery bass, maybe six inches, but big enough to eat.

He looked at me, radiant, like he’d just won the lottery. “You want to clean it?”

“No way. I want to watch you.”

He laughed. Hala pulled his pocket multi tool from his backpack and, with the sharp edge of a blade, gutted the fish. He tossed the insides back into the water.

Within half an hour, he had caught another fish, both of them cleaned and ready. We headed back to camp. I built a fire, stacking the split wood in a tight pyramid.

Soon, the smell of fish roasting over an open flame filled our senses. I watched him, still shirtless, stoking the fire, humming to himself. He caught me staring and waggled his eyebrows.

“You like seeing me in provider mode, don’t you?” he teased.

“Yeah,” I said, too honest to play it cool. “It’s fucking hot.”

He laughed, shook his head, and handed me a piece of bass. It was bland but to our hungry stomachs, it was perfection.

We ate with our hands, pulling the meat from the bones, licking our fingers clean. It was messy, but good, the kind of good you only get when you’ve burned a week’s worth of calories in a day and you’re starving for something better than nuts and dried fruit. We didn’t talk much, just sat close and shared the food, pausing only to swap bites or chase them down with sips of water.

When the sun dropped behind the trees, we stretched out by the fire, heat from the embers chasing away the first bite of night air.

“Was your dad really that bad?” I asked, quiet.

Hala stared into the flames, face shadowed and private. “He was strict. Never showed much love, but… he made sure we had what we needed.” He shrugged. “I learned a lot from him. How to survive. How to fix shit. How to keep going even when you don’t want to.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder.

We sat like that for a long time, listening to the night settle in, a wild comfort growing between us. I could have sat there forever.

But I also wanted him, again, even more than before.

He must have felt it, too. Because the next time our eyes met, I saw the need and want in his eyes.

After we’d killed the fire and packed away the scraps of dinner, the darkness had wrapped around us thick and alive. The stars were out—so many, so close. Hala sat on the edge of our bedroll, legs spread, forearms resting on his knees. His face glowed in the moonlight.

He reached over, pulled me down into his lap, and pressed his lips against my ear. “You know what I want us to do tonight?”

I could have guessed, but I wanted to hear it. “Tell me.”

He bit my earlobe, then whispered, “I want to take you down to the stream. I want us to clean every inch of each other’s bodies. Then, I want you to put that big fat cock of yours in my ass and fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

His words made me shiver. My cock was already hard just hearing him say those words. “That’s what you want to do?” I said, my voice breaking.

“Yeah,” he said, full of certainty, like he’d been thinking about this all day long. “I want to feel you inside me, Chad. I want your cum in me.”

“And I fucking want to put it there, Hala,” I said, my heart hammering in chest and my cock pulsating in my shorts. Hala grabbed my hand and I let him lead me down the path toward the river.

The air was cool, but neither of us flinched. We stripped out of our clothes, tossing them onto a boulder. The moonlight made Hala’s skin glow, every curve and muscle glistening. His cock was already half hard, swinging as he waded in. He splashed me, then pulled me close, his chest hot against mine.

We stood in the water, lathering up each other’s bodies with our hands, fingers tracing every line, every scar, every patch of hair. He made me turn around, scrubbed my back, then reached around and washed my chest and abs with slow, soapy circles. The touch was gentle, but there was an edge under it, a hunger that made every nerve in me buzz.

He finished and knelt in the water, pulling my hips forward, mouth hovering just above my cock. “You taste better when you’re clean,” he said, then took me in, slow and deep. The cold river made my skin tingle, but his mouth was hot, perfect. I arched into him, wanting to thrust, but held back, savoring the drag of his tongue against the underside of my shaft. He rolled his tongue around my dickhead’s ridge, flicking its underside until I couldn’t take it any longer. As he let my hard on fall from his cock-hungry mouth, I looked down and became overwhelmed by the sight of him at my feet, his eyes on mine, my dick resting against his flattened tongue.

“What are you thinking about up there?” he said, a mischievous grin forming on his mouth.

“You really wanna know?”

He kissed my shaft a couple of times and then looked up. “I really want to know.”

I sighed. “I’m thinking that I’ve never seen a sexier sight than the sight of you on your knees worshiping my cock.”

He grinned. “Well, Chad, I really like your cock. A whole lot.”

“No, but seriously, Hala. Nobody has treated my dick like you treat it. Fuck, nobody has even looked at it the way you’ve looked at it.”

Hala smiled. He let my dick go and stood, water dripping from his chin. “How do I look at your cock, Chad? I might need you to demonstrate for me what you mean.”

I kissed his beautiful lips. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can show you what I mean.”

I dropped to my knees. With my hands around his thighs, I took his dick into my mouth. I took it as deep as I could and held it there until my gag reflexes took over. I licked up his shaft. I kissed its tip. I dove beneath his mighty cock and smashed my face against his nuts. I lapped at his ballsack like I was starving for him. He moaned above me as I took one of his low hangers into my mouth and gently rolled my tongue around it. And I gathered up his other nut on my tongue and looked up at him, letting him see just how much I loved having his balls in mouth.

With my eyes still on him, I flicked my tongue against the crown of his cock before taking it in. I loved Hala’s cock. I felt like I was born to pleasure this man’s dick. I bobbed on his dick a few times until my neck hurt. I swear that his dick was thicker than it was last night. I licked around the crown, then slid him down deep into my throat. Hala groaned, hands in my hair, guiding me, not forcing but letting me know exactly how deep he wanted it. When he was as deep as I could take, my nose nearly in his pubes, he held me there until i could not take it any more.

“Do that again,” I said, lust dancing in my stare.

And he did, this time hold me there until I tapped out.

“I fucking love your cock!”

His crotch tasted terrible—musky and salty from sweat—and I could not get enough. I swallowed around him, sucking him in, and then pulled off. I pushed my face into his his hairy balls again, my tongue exploring his wild nest of pubes. I licked underneath his nuts and he shivered, his hips bucking in pleasure.

“Turn around and bend over,” I said with a sexual force that I had never felt before.

Hala flashed me a wolfish grin. “Fuck, yeah.” He turned around and bent his body over, giving me the fucking hottest view I’d ever seen.

I kissed the back of nuts. I ran my tongue over his taint. And then I pushed his asscheeks apart, exposing the thick forest of hair between his perfect mounds.

I’d never done this before—had never even thought about it before last night—but the sight, the smell, the idea of it drove me wild.

I pushed my into his trench, pressing my tongue against his hole. My senses were overwhelmed with delight. I licked his hole, making slow circles around the ridge. Hala moaned, louder than I’d ever heard him, fingers digging into the back of my scalp.

“Fucking eat that dirty hole!” he growled.

I smiled but I kept eating his hole, tongue fucking him, spit running down my chin. I could not get enough. And neither could he. He started grinding his ass against my face, desperately wanting me to devour him. I spit into his hole. And then pushed my spit into him with my tongue.

When I finally pulled back, I wiped my mouth, loving having the stench of his ass on my face. His scent. He strong taste. It was electrifying.

“I fucking love eating your ass,” I said.

He laughed, still panting. “Good. I want you to do it again and again, but right now, I need you to fuck me.”

We darted quickly back to camp, not bothering to dry off. Hala immediately bent over the log where we’d eaten dinner, then turned around and presented his ass to me, hands spreading his cheeks wide. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life, the sight of him surrendering his ass to me. I had never once looked at a woman with as much lust as I was looking at Hala in that moment.

“Don’t make me beg,” he said.

And I didn’t. I spit on a couple of my fingers and placed them against his warm, perfect brown hole. I pushed my spit inside of him and then I slicked up my cock with more spit. I lined myself up, my dick’s head pressing against his hole, and for a second I thought I wouldn’t fit, but then the ring gave and I slipped inside. The sensation was mind blowing—a hot tightness that my cock had never encountered. And slowly, with time and more spot, Hala’s ass gripped every inch of me. I stood still, giving Hala time to breathe through the pain and the burn that I was putting him through in that moment. I wanted to pump into him so badly, but I didn’t.

Hala let out a sound, something between a growl and a gasp. “Fuck, you’re so fucking big.” His voice was quivering, and he was breathing heavy. And I had to admit, seeing him struggle was so fucking hot.

“Ahh, “ he moaned, “that feels so good.”

Hala’s breath was shaky with lust, his body shivered as it began to slowly surrender itself over to my cock. I felt him push back against me some, a signal that his need for my cock was taking over. I made one small push into him and he whimpered.

I started slow, not wanting to hurt him, but he was greedy, driving himself onto my cock, demanding more. I grabbed his hips, held him steady, and I fucked him harder, every thrust pushing a needy moan from his lips. I fucked him hard, my heavy nuts slapping against the bottom of his ass.

I wasn’t going to last long. Not with the tightness of his ass swallowing my cock, the feel of his heat, and the constant whimpers of his pleasure. I warned him I was close, and through moans and squeals, he said, “Do it, Chad. Fill me up. Put your cum in me. I need it, Chad. Give it to me. Please, Chad, give it to me.

I oragasmed with a violence I didn’t know I had, hips jerking, ropes of cum flooding into Hala’s hole. Hala reached down and jerked himself, shooting his monstrous load across the log, lines of it landing on the moss.

I was panting. Hala was heaving. I slowly pulled myself out of him, a portion of my cum dripping out of his fucked hole, and down one of his legs. I wiped it up with my thumb, sucking it clean.

We collapsed side by side, bodies trembling.

I kissed him, tasting sweat and river water. “You’re fucking perfect,” I said.

He nuzzled into my neck, his voice thick. “You’re fucking everything, man—fucking everything.”

We crawled into the tent, our bodies still damp. We wrapped around each other in the sleeping bag. I held him, his head on my chest. As we lay there, I felt something settle in me—a calm, an undeniable calm.

And then, right before we fell asleep, Hala whispered, “Chad, I have a question: have you ever thought about a having threesome?”

The question shocked me, but also sent a jolt of desire through my spent body. “Maybe,” I said, honest. “With who?”

He shrugged. “Someone hot. Maybe a random hiker, maybe a guy from a trail town. I don’t know. Just… someone. I kinda want to see you with another man.”

I thought about it, the images sparking behind my eyes. “ I think I would like that.,” I said. “Would you?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, and his hand slid down to my cock, “I’d like to watch you fuck someone else. I’d like to watch you get fucked, too.”

In that moment, I was willing to try anything with Hala. I wanted to experience whatever it was that he wanted to experience. And I think he wanted the same.

The Hike: Part 2

The Gay Erotic — Tue, 16 Sep 2025 20:07:42 GMT

Read part 1 here!

Around noon, we reached a well known vista. The view was unreal, blue ridges stacked to infinity, clouds floating over rounded peaks.

We dumped our packs and sprawled out in the shade, sharing trail mix and a bag of gummy worms. Hala lay back, arms behind his head, eyes closed against the glare. He was wearing a tank, which was wet, sticking to shamelessly to his chiseled form. I found myself staring at the way it clung to his torso, the line of his abs visible through the thin fabric. I noticed the thick sweat-ridden patches of dark hair that filled his armpits. I couldn’t take my eyes off his pits. I wanted to run my tongue through them.

My imagination got interrupted by Hala’s deep voice. “Chad, are you checking me out?”

I froze, unsure if he was joking or calling me out. My face went hot.

He grinned wider, rolling onto his side to face me. “Relax. I’m flattered.”

“But, but I wasn’t…”

“Come on, Chad. You most definitely were checking me out. Again, you’re allowed to look at me.”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “I mean, it’s hard not to notice. You’re like, uh...built for this.”

He laughed, and I swear I noticed him blushing. “Well, Chad, I gotta confess, you’re not so bad yourself.”

I looked at him, really looked, and I was overcome with the desire to touch him. Not just a handshake or a bro hug, but to actually run my fingers down his arm, to feel the heat of him, to see if he’d let me. The thought scared me, but it also made me hard.

We lay there for a long while, not talking, just staring at the sky and passing the bag of gummies back and forth. Eventually, he rolled upright and stretched, arms over his head, shirt riding up to show me the dark hair covered his firm belly. He caught me looking again, and this time his smile was sly.

“Come on,” he said, standing. “We still got miles to go—we’re the fucking worst hikers on the A.T.”

We both laughed. We hiked the rest of the afternoon in near-silence, but the air between us was charged with something new, something I’d never experienced before.

By the time we reached that night’s shelter, I was so keyed up I could barely think straight. My shorts were damp with sweat, but it was more than that—every time I looked at him, my dick twitched. I’d hiked all afternoon with a hard on or a half-hard on. I ducked behind the privy and readjusted myself, trying to cover up the tension I was feeling throughout my body, but especially in my pants. It didn’t help.

Back at the fire, Hala was already starting dinner. He was good at this trail shit, lighting the stove, stirring the pot, arranging everything with a practiced grace. I watched him, desperate to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

He handed me a steaming bowl of ramen, then sat beside me, our knees touching on the log. My cock ached inside my hiking shorts.

“You ever feel like you’re not supposed to want something?” he asked, voice low.

I almost choked on the noodles. “All the time.”

He looked at me, eyes soft but serious. “Yeah?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

He let the silence hang for a moment, then said, “Me too.”

We ate in silence, the air between us thick with meaning.

That night, in the close darkness of the shelter, I lay awake listening to Hala breathe. The other hikers snored or rustled, but I only heard him. I imagined reaching over, pressing my hand to his chest, feeling the heartbeat beneath the sweat-soaked shirt. I imagined him rolling over, pressing his mouth to mine, the heat of his body against me.

I knew it was insane. I barely knew this guy, and yet I wanted him more than I’d wanted anything in a long time. Maybe ever.

As the sky faded from black to the first pale hint of morning, I finally drifted off, still hard, still wanting him, still afraid.

The next day’s hiking was long and hard, but we’d moved just shy of 20 miles and it had nearly killed both of us. By the time we stumbled into the next camp, I felt almost dead from heat and hunger and maybe more than a little lust. We found a good spot on a rise above a gurgling creek—a perfect site to set up camp, with level ground and a sweet, cool breeze cutting through the forest’s opening.

I wanted to drop right there, but Hala wouldn’t let me. “We have to eat,” he said, “Or you’ll be hallucinating before sunrise. And I don’t need you hearing voices and seeing shit that isn’t there.”

I dug out the stove and a vacuum-packed bag of something that was supposed to be beef stew, but looked and smelled like wet dog food. He started a fire, snapping twigs with efficient hands, and in less than ten minutes we had a flickering blaze and two pots bubbling. While it cooked, he stripped off his shirt, wrung it out, and slung it over a tree limb. Sweat beaded on his back and trickled down the deep groove of his spine.

“Not even gonna rinse off first?” I asked, only half kidding.

He grinned, teeth white and gleaming. “Maybe after dinner. Or maybe I like being filthy.”

I couldn’t look away from him, my eyes mesmerized by the pure sexiness of his huge thick chest, his big dark nippes, and those pits. Oh, my God, his pits turned me on more than I could even explain. I swear he knew that I was lusting for him. And I think he liked it.

My own shirt was twice as bad as his, but I didn’t dare peel it off. I’d had an erection nearly all day and at some point in the middle of the afternoon, I realized that my shorts were covered in dark blotches where my precum had leaked through. The last thing I wanted was to do was advertise how hard I’d been for hours.

When we finished eating, Hala wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then glanced down the hill to the creek. “I’m going to wash up. You want in?”

I tried to play it cool, but my hands shook as I set down my cup. “Uh… you go ahead. I’ll clean up and keep the fire going.”

He shrugged, trudging his way down the slope, and disappearing through the brush. I waited until I heard the splash of water, then I quietly followed him, my pulse beating so heavy I thought it would give me away.

A few moments later, there he was, knee-deep in the stream, completely naked except for his boots. He faced away, broad back gleaming in the dying light, his black hair flattened against his skull. And his ass. His ass was even sexier than I’d imagined. It was round. Each cheek covered in dark hair. And then I watched as he bent over, and I almost lost my cool, as I gawked at his dark hairy asscrack—his crack was like a black forest, the hottest sight I’ve ever witnessed. He splashed water onto his chest and shoulders, then reached between his legs and scrubbed his junk with both hands. I stopped breathing.

He straightened and turned, and for a moment I thought he’d caught me, but he just cupped water and poured it over his head, shivering at the chill. He turned around and for the first time, I saw his cock. And I almost gasped. It was perfect and thick. His dick hung heavy in between his thighs, thick and, I’m not sure, maybe half-hard, maybe not. I watched as his meat moved freely as he waded deeper into the river toward the far bank. There was nothing delicate about him—everything was muscle, hair, and motion. And he was so confident—his whole presence unfiltered and totally unashamed.

I ducked behind a tree, heart slamming, and waited until I heard him start up the slope before sneaking back to camp. When he returned, hair dripping, he looked at me with an odd intensity.

“Your turn,” he said.

I wanted to say no, to beg off with some dumb excuse, but I smelled like shit. I knew that. So, reluctantly, I stood and walked down to the river, every inch of my body burning with anxiety, wondering if Hala would watch me like I’d watched him. At the water’s edge, I peeled off my shirt, then my shorts and underwear. I stood there, bare and feeling awkward, my cock almost fully hard and impossible to miss. I slowly walked into the water, the air chilling the sweat on my chest and balls.

I knelt in the water, which was ice-cold, and tried to mimic what I’d watched Hala do: splash, scrub, dunk my head, pretend I wasn’t shaking from nerves as much as cold. When I stood up, I saw him through the trees, watching me from the shadow of camp.

He made no effort to hide his gaze.

I dried off as best I could, held the small towel in front of me, and trudged back up, still half hard despite the icy water. He watched me the whole way, his eyes dark. Was he wanting me like I wanted him?

When I got close, our eyes met. Something was alive in his eyes. They moved up and down my body, taking me in.

“Drop the fucking towel, Chad,” said Hala, and then I watched him unknot his towel and let it drop to the ground.

I let the towel go and we moved toward each other like hungry beasts. It was instinct, pure animal instinct. I pulled his body into me. He pulled my body into his. And I wrapped my arms around him. I’d never felt something so incredible before. His body was hot and solid against mine, his hands roaming up my spine and into my hair. I pressed my face against his neck and inhaled, the scent of him—sweat, smoke, river, whiffs of his still-ripe armpits—it was all overwhelming. My throbbing dick was mashed between our bellies. His was just as hard as mine, knocking hard and full against my thigh.

He ran his hands down my back and over my ass, gripping it like he was afraid I’d vanish. He kissed me, first tentative, then rougher, teeth grazing my lower lip. I opened my mouth and let him in, tongues colliding, breath ragged.

We dropped to our knees, dirt grinding into my skin, but neither of us cared. I wanted him. I wanted to be devoured by him. I wanted every part of this to be filthy and wild and be impossible to forget..

He pushed me onto my back, pinning my wrists to the sleeping-bag covered ground. His hard cock slapped against my stomach, slick and leaking, and I felt a rush of need so intense I almost didn’t fully know what to do. He moved his body against me, our cocks grinding against each other. I loved everything I was feeling. His breath on my neck. His wildly hairy firm chest against mine. The hardness of his body. How his big cock felt rubbing against me. Hala let go of my wrists and slid down, mouth hot and wet on my neck, then my chest, then my abs. He licked a stripe up to my nipple, biting just hard enough to make me gasp. And then he bit the other one.

I grabbed at his hair, pulling him up to kiss me again. He tasted thick of river water and sweat and I loved every little bit of him.

He broke away and knelt between my legs, taking my cock into his mouth.

“Holy fuck,” I said, “I’ve never felt something so good in all of my life.”

The heat, the pressure, the suction—it was all perfect, perfectly raw, perfectly male. He bobbed his head, using his hand to stroke what he couldn’t fit. I groaned, hips lifting off the ground.

I wanted to taste him, too. I sat up and pulled him close, flipping us so I was on top. He laughed into my mouth, his hand finding my dick and stroking it while I fumbled with his. I leaned down and took him in—he was thicker than I expected, uncut, the head velvet-soft and glistening with precum. I licked up his shaft, savoring all of his flavors, then slid him into my mouth as far as I could. He bucked, fingers digging into my shoulders. I gave him probably the worst head of his life, but I loved every second of his cock being in my mouth.

“I’ll get better,” I said, “I promise.” And then I let his cock go as deep into my mouth until my fucking gag reflexes kicked in.

We went at it like animals, trading blowjobs, biting each other’s nipples, sucking marks against each other’s skin, and licking sweat and dirt off each other’s skin. Every time I looked at him, he was smiling, eyes reeling, hair plastered to his face.

But then he rolled me onto my stomach and spread my legs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked. His answer came without words as I felt his tongue lick up against the crack of my ass.

I wailed in pleasure, feeling a sensation that I’d never felt before. Hala buried his tongue into my hole and I moaned like fucking coyote in heat.

No one had ever done that to me before. No girl, not even the freaky ones. It seemed kind of disgusting and yet it felt perfect and I wanted more. I could only imagine that I didn’t taste good back there. But Hala didn’t seem to care. He fucking ate my ass like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

He spit into my ass. And then he pushed his spit into my hole. He did that a few times, and then ate me out until I was almost unable to think straight.

He pulled me up onto my hands and knees, spit running out of my crack. “Chad, I know we just met. But I wanna fuck you.” He looked deep into my eyes. “Can I fuck you?”

I hesitated, breathing heavy, and then I nodded. “Yeah. I want you to fuck me.”

But instead of giving me his cock, he surprised me—he rolled onto his back and pulled my body over top of his face, my ass hovering inches away from his face. “Sit,” he said.

“What?” I said.

“Sit your ass down on my face,” he said, his voice filled with hunger. “I want your ass in my face, Chad.

I obeyed him, lowering myself until his I felt his mouth right on my hole. He tongued me, sloppy and insistent, fingers kneading my hips. I stroked my dick, pre-cum slicking my palm. He grunted, tongue pushing deeper.

As he ate my ass, I leaned forward and put my mouth around his cock, both of us moaning, the air thick with the scent of pure male lust. I lapped on his nuts, but they were so potent from our hiking, I couldn’t not do it. But fuck, I wanted to. He pulled away and told me to spin around and then he guide my asshole over his cock’s head.

I could feel him lining it up, feeding it slow and careful into me, the head slipping against my hole, pressure building until it started to open me up.

I’d jacked off a thousand times thinking about crazy shit before—but this was something else entirely. I braced, tried to relax, but my breath came in sharp bursts and my hands balled into fists against his chest. Hala murmured soft words I couldn’t process, thumbs stroking my hips. The burn was deep, sharp, amazing, and I moaned through gritted teeth as he worked the fat head of his dick inside me. I’d thought about letting a guy fuck me before, sure, but the reality—so big, so tight, so fucking good—was more electric than any fantasy I’d ever had.

He held still, letting me get used to it. The forest vanished, my whole world reduced to the feeling of him inside me, filling me up so completely that for a second I wanted to cry out. He paused, letting me adjust, then moved, slowly, letting me control the pace. I started to ride him, using my thighs, feeling him fill me, stretch me, hit places I didn’t know existed.

His cock was thick, full, almost too much, but every ounce of me wanted more. Even as my mind screamed at the shock, my body shuddered and melted around him, desperate to take everything he could give. I felt his hands on my hips, steady and strong, guiding me, not forcing but willing me to trust him, to let all of me yield to him. I tried to relax, to open, and as the pressure gave way to this deep ache, then heat, then a roaming seismic pleasure.

With renewed strength, I began fucking myself down onto him hard, trembling, wincing at the sharp pulse of pain that quickly became a torrent of sensation I never wanted to end. I was totally stretched, my hole burning and yet—god—it felt good.

He whispered, "That's it, take that big cock," almost reverently. As I found my rhythm and began riding his dick with increased confidence, Hala reached up and stroked my dick as I fucked myself on to his big cock. Everything started to feel really goo.

It was raw, relentless, completely unlike anything I’d ever had with a woman. It was better. It was more. It was manly and dirty and it felt like I was fucking home.

He whispered my name as he started to cum, voice thick and desperate. I lost it then, my cock pumping ropes of all over his hand, my own cries echoing off the ridge behind our site.

His cock pulsed into me.

And I moaned with him, as I felt his cock jumping inside me, the thick, hot pulse of his cum shooting deep, impossibly deep inside me. I’d never imagined receiving another man's orgasm would feel so primal, so fucking real, so perfect. Every spasm of his dick launched another shockwave through my body, my insides burning and clenching, desperate to draw every last drop out of him, to hold it in me, to make it mine. Hala groaned, long and guttural, hands gripping my hips and holding me impaled and helpless while he emptied himself inside. His eyes rolled up, brow furrowed in brutal pleasure as he used me, filled me, completed something I needed inside me.

We collapsed side by side in the dirt, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat and cum.

For a long time, neither of us said anything. Then Hala turned over toward me, eyes soft. “Hey, you okay?”

I nodded, too fucked-out to answer. He reached over and laced his fingers with mine.

“That was the most intense sexual experience I’ve ever had in my entire life, Hala.”

“It was fucking amazing.” He took a deep breath. “And your body? Your cock? But especially your ass? Like a fucking buffet.”

I smiled. He smiled. He kissed my lips.

We curled up together, his head on my chest, our legs tangled. I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or the day after. Maybe it would all burn out, or maybe we’d hate each other by the time we got to Tennessee. But in that moment, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t running from anything.

The Hike: Part 1 (Free For Everyone)

The Gay Erotic — Tue, 16 Sep 2025 20:01:55 GMT

Here’s Part 2

A new series begins today called The Hike. And you’re getting parts 1 & 2 today.

Until midnight you can still get 1 year for $25.

Here’s part 1. Part 2 will be posting in just a few minutes. I hope you love this new book as much I’m loving it so far. Part 1 is FREE for everybody…

It was 5:54 in the morning when I finally made it to the Springer Mountain parking lot. Gray, pre-dawn mist hovered above the hoods of Outbacks and battered F-150s. The Uber driver killed the engine.

“Good luck,” he said, giving me a half smile and half smirk that said “you’re out of your goddamn mind, dude.” As I exited the car, I took a breath. The driver helped me get my gear out of the trunk. Somewhere in the haze, wood thrushes belted out a ragged improv—discordant, eager, alive. The Appalachian Trail was waiting, and so was my next chapter.

If I’m being honest, my last chapter was a fucking disaster. Six months earlier, I was running point on a corporate consulting team in Manhattan, raking in ungodly hours and even better commissions, before everything crashed. Kelsey dumped me two days after we’d signed the lease in Hell’s Kitchen—cliché, sure—but I didn’t see it coming. I needed a reset, a new beginning. So, to that end, I poured my last bonus check into gear: top-line tent, ultralight down quilt, custom orthotics for my already-wrecked knees. A full break. Clean start. Ten days later, I was in Georgia.

I told people I just wanted to see how far I could go. Trail friends I met online called that “hiking your own hike,” but really, I was just running—running out of excuses, out of patience, out of anything that tethered me to the person I’d been before.

By 6:00 the mist had already burned off, and the parking lot was a theater of the absurd. Inside the general store, it was chaos. Most of the mob was vying for the last Clif bars, elbowing over fuel canisters, queuing for coffee with the frantic energy of doomed livestock. I caught my own reflection in the bug-splattered window—sweat-darkened t-shirt already clinging to my chest, making me look preposterously jacked. If this was a pageant, I was off-season: face too angular, hair shorn close enough to reveal the scar above my left ear, shorts with last summer’s silt stains ground in for good.

And yet, for the first time in months, I felt like I belonged.

I drifted to the coffee urn, and that’s where I first saw him. He was impossible not to see. Standing a half-head taller than the rest, beautiful brown skin, dark curls slicked to his scalp by humidity and exertion. Shoulders like a gymnast. Cargo shorts hitched a little too high on thick quads. His legs weren’t just fit, they were trail fit—bristled thick with dark hair, dusted with the red clay of the access path.

I caught a glimpse of his face as he turned to scan the shelves. Strong, confident, and one of the most beautiful smiles I’d ever seen. He looked like he’d been born on the Mediterranean or maybe further east. I’m not an expert, but the guy looked like he’d been carved out of sun-baked sandstone and then dunked in sweat and pheromones.

He scanned the coffee area, then locked eyes with me—just for a moment, a flicker. I felt it: the old tingle, the nervous current that had never quite gone away no matter how hard I tried to drown it in girls and gym time and Jesus.

I let my gaze linger a beat longer than I should have, then glanced away, pretending I was way too invested in the bear-proof canisters on display.

He grinned. Nodded. It was subtle, barely there, but unmistakable. I looked away again, trying not to grin like an idiot.

A voice barked from the back. “Yo, Chad! You buying or loitering?” I turned, already knowing it was the cashier, a skinny guy with a beard and the kind of hat you only buy at Boy Scout surplus stores. He knew me because I’d cased the joint the day before, wanting to know what I should expect.

I flashed a smile, grabbed two Snickers bars off the counter, and slid them next to the fuel canister. “Both, man. Got a hiker’s metabolism to feed.”

He punched numbers into the ancient register. “If that’s true, you’ll be back in a week, half your body weight and crying for a cheeseburger.”

“I bet you a pack of matches I make it to Hot Springs without breaking a sweat.”

He snorted, but handed me my change. “Not unless you eat more than that. Best of luck to you.”

Outside, the parking lot had thinned. Some hikers already hit the approach trail. Others were futzing with gaiters, squatting in the gravel to check phone GPS or repack their bags for the third time. The air tasted green, thick with wet leaves and the faint sweetness of old campfires.

I took one last look at the parking lot, and through a dirty window caught another flash of him. The stranger. He was at the register now, debating with the cashier about whether his filter bottle counted as a “real” water purifier. As he rolled toward the door, he was grinning, shaking his head. I could see the ease with which he moved: athletic, intentional, but not hurried. He slung his pack with a single fluid motion, and stepped outside.

Our paths at the trailhead sign. I nodded, casual. He nodded back, flashed me slight smile.

“First time?” I asked.

He shrugged, adjusted his hip belt. “First time here. But every trail’s got a first time, right?” His voice was deeper than I expected. He didn’t have an accent, not exactly, but there was a rhythm to his words that I couldn’t place—soft, insistent, impossible to ignore.

“I’m Chad,” I said, extending a hand. It was dumb, but you know, old habits.

He sized me up, then grinned—bigger, this time—and took my hand in a firm, warm grip. “Hala,” he replied. “Like ‘holla,’ but less annoying.”

The corners of my mouth tugged upward. “You headed north?”

“Where else is there to go?” he said. He looked past me, up the slope where the approach trail snaked through birch and pine. “I want to see how far the trail lets me go before it breaks me.”

I liked the answer more than I meant to. “Guess we’ll see who taps out first.”

He smiled again, and then—just as quickly—shouldered his pack and started up the stone steps, effortless pace.

I watched him for a few seconds, memorizing the way he moved, the play of muscle and intent. Then I followed, pulse beating a little faster, legs eager to catch up. This adventure ahead might kill me but in that moment, it felt possible.

It took about forty minutes before the trailhead adrenaline wore off and I remembered what I hated about uphill hiking: everything. My calves started to ache first, a deep, throbbing burn like someone had stuffed hot stones inside my compression sleeves. Then my shoulders, already punished by the weight of the pack, started to whine with every step. I kept my breathing steady—four-count in, four-count out—but the humidity clung to my skin like a soaked towel. The leaf layer was slick, even this early. Roots snaked across the path like tripwires, daring me to fuck up before the day even started.

I tried not to think about anything except my boots and the rhythm of my stride. Focus on the mechanics, I told myself. Don’t think about Manhattan, or Kelsey, or that dumb, frozen moment when she packed her shit into a single IKEA bag and walked out. Don’t think about the months of empty apartments or bad Tinder dates. Don’t think about the way she used to fall asleep on my chest, or how she’d say “I love you” in that quiet, annoyed way, like it was an apology she didn’t owe anyone.

Instead, I thought about what I was carrying. Sixty-five liters of gear, half of which I didn’t need but was too stubborn to leave behind. I’d packed like I was prepping for a fucking apocalypse. The freeze-dried food, the bear spray, the three different water filtration systems, a half-pint of whiskey wrapped in my base layer. I could survive an entire season out here, if only I could survive the noise in my own head.

I was alone, mostly. The early-morning crowd had dispersed fast. Every so often, I’d catch a flicker of motion through the trees—a flash of neon orange from some ultralighter’s rain jacket, a snippet of laughter from a pair of day hikers. But up here, a mile in, it was just me.

Except every so often, I’d catch a glimpse of him: the guy from the general store. Hala. He hiked maybe a hundred yards ahead, keeping a pace that was relentless but unhurried. Every time the trail doubled back on itself, I’d spot him through a gap in the birches—broad back, calves bunched with every step, his black hair bouncing with the rhythm of his stride. He never looked back. Never slowed down. I wanted to call out to him, but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound like desperation.

So I watched. And, if I’m being honest, I stared.

The first time I caught myself doing it, I laughed—out loud. I’d never let myself stare at another guy before. In the locker room, sure, but always with a studied disinterest, the kind that said, “I’m just comparing size, bro, not actually looking.” This was different. I couldn’t stop.

I tried to play it off, focus on the scenery, but every time Hala rounded a bend, my eyes went straight to his legs. His shorts were cut higher than mine, showing off thighs so dense with muscle they looked carved out of oak. His calves were flecked with old scars and fresh scratches, probably from years of trail running or God knows what. And his ass—holy fuck, his ass. I’ve spent more hours than I’d like to admit working my glutes, but this guy’s ass made my deadlifts look like a joke. Every step was a slow-motion bounce, an ad for sex I wasn’t supposed to want.

And yet, I wanted.

I’d never told anyone about the thoughts I’d have in the locker room. Not Kelsey, not my college bros, not even my therapist back when my parents forced me to see one after I almost got expelled junior year. In my hometown, you learned early to keep your mouth shut about certain things. I did what was expected: dated girls, played football, went to church. Even after I left for college, the habit stuck. If you wanted something different, you had to want it quietly. With deniability.

I kept hiking. At some point, the trees thinned, and the trail opened up to a ridgeline overlook. The mountains rolled away in every direction, blue and soft, horizon stacked like the folds of a heavy blanket. I let my pack drop, exhaled. My shirt was glued to my back, and my thighs quivered with the effort of standing still.

Hala was already there. He stood at the edge of the overlook, hands on his hips, eyes fixed on the cloud cover to the east. The sweat on his temples gleamed in the sun, and for a second I thought about how it would taste—salty and bright and absolutely real, not like the manufactured sweat of spin class or pickup games in a climate-controlled gym. I looked away, heat blooming in my cheeks.

He must have heard me, because he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Not a big, open smile, but enough to let me know he saw me. I nodded, trying really hard to look casual, and walked over.

“Hell of a view,” I said.

He grinned. “Yeah. Even better without the humidity.” His voice was lower up here, quieter. “Didn’t think Georgia would be so...lush.”

“It’s basically a rainforest until July,” I said. “You from out west?”

He shrugged, wiped a bead of sweat from his chin. “Kind of. Grew up in the city, but spent a lot of time on the coast. Summers in the Adirondacks. You?”

“Connecticut,” I said. “But I did college in the city. Guess we traded places.”

He turned and looked at me directly, and I felt a flicker of nerves shoot up my spine. “You ever done this before? The whole trail?”

I shook my head. “Just a section or two with my dad when I was teen. This is the first time I’m trying the whole thing. See if I can make it all the way to Maine.”

He nodded, like he respected that. “You think you’ll make it?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘make it,’” I said, and he laughed. For a second, the air felt lighter.

We stood together in silence, looking at the mountains, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I turned to leave, and he followed. We hiked the next mile in tandem, maybe five yards apart. He didn’t talk, but every now and then he’d glance back, like he was checking to make sure I hadn’t disappeared.

The trail dipped into a hollow, and the shade felt almost cold on my skin. My thoughts went right back to Kelsey, and how she would have hated every minute of this. She couldn’t stand humidity, bugs, or “getting dirt under her nails.” But she would have liked Hala, I thought. She always did have a thing for people who didn’t give a shit about what anyone else thought.

I wondered what she was doing right now. Probably asleep, curled up with her new boyfriend in some loft in Hell’s Kitchen, bitching about the brunch crowd on Instagram. I tried to imagine calling her, telling her about the guy I couldn’t stop looking at. But the thought made me want to throw up a little, so I pushed it away.

We kept moving. Hours passed in a blur of sweat, mud, and aching feet. Every so often, Hala would pull ahead, but he always slowed just enough that I never lost sight of him completely. He was a fixed point, a landmark I could orient myself around. I started to pace myself off him, matching his stride.

At lunch, I sat on a boulder and tore open one of my Snickers bars. I watched as Hala filtered water from a stream, his hands quick and precise, the way you get when you’ve been doing something for years. He was stripped down to his sleeveless base layer now, and his shoulders gleamed like polished stone. As he filled his bottle, I caught him glancing my way, those dark eyes unreadable.

He stood and walked over, settling onto the rock beside me. “You’re making good time,” he said, like it was a compliment.

“Gotta keep up,” I replied. “Wouldn’t want to fall behind on day one.”

He smirked. “You won’t.” He took a bite of his granola bar, chewed for a second, then said, “So, why the trail? Most people just do a long weekend. You’re going all-in.”

I hesitated, but decided there was no reason to bullshit him. “Needed a reset,” I said. “Life got...messy.”

He nodded. “That happens.”

I waited, hoping he’d say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked at me, really looked, his gaze lingering on my jaw, my neck, my hands. It was almost clinical, like he was trying to decide what I was made of. The silence stretched. I started to fidget, wrapping and unwrapping the crinkly Snickers wrapper around my finger.

Eventually, he said, “You got someone waiting for you back home?”

The question caught me off-guard. I shook my head. “Nope. Single as fuck.”

He laughed again, a little softer this time. “Lucky you.”

I almost asked if he was single, but something about the way he said it made me hesitate. Instead, I just nodded, feeling the weight of his attention settle over me. We ate in silence, trading bites and sips of water, our knees almost touching on the broad, sun-warmed boulder.

After lunch, the trail got steeper. The climb forced us apart, Hala stretching his lead to maybe fifty yards. I tried to focus on my breathing, the scenery, anything but the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I replayed every word, every look. The rush of it made my heart thump, but also sent little pulses of dread through my stomach. This was not supposed to happen. Not now. Not here. Not with a guy.

Near the top of the next ridge, the sun started to dip and the woods turned gold, then blue. I pulled off at a small overlook to catch my breath. My legs trembled from the climb, but I felt good—better than I expected. Alive. Worthy, maybe. I watched the horizon, wondering if Hala was somewhere up ahead, watching it too.

The air smelled of pine needles and old leaves, but underneath there was something else, a tang of sweat and earth and—yeah, a little arousal. I adjusted my shorts, trying not to think about the last time I’d actually gotten off. Probably a week or maybe a day or two more. I’d been too numb, too busy preparing for this trip. Too scared.

I stayed until the light faded, then shouldered my pack and headed up the last stretch of trail to the first shelter. As I approached, I saw a glow through the trees—a campfire, already burning. Hala was there, perched on a log, head bowed, hands busy organizing a compartment in his backpack.

He didn’t look up as I entered the clearing, but I knew he’d been waiting. I dropped my pack, and the sound echoed in the twilight.

“Hey,” I said, voice low.

He finally looked up, and there was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before—a mix of relief and hunger. “Hey,” he replied. “Glad you made it.”

I smiled at him, and this time, I didn’t look away.

Dawn came with the scent of wet forrest and last night’s woodsmoke, the sounds of mourning doves and Hala’s soft humming as he broke camp.

I’d woken up to the sound of him pissing against a tree, forceful, unselfconscious, and felt a jolt of jealousy that I couldn’t explain. My own morning wood was insistent, a fucking tentpole that I awkwardly tried to disguise as I rolled over and unzipped the bag. I heard Hala laugh softly from across the fire ring.

The shelter crowd was already thinning out, with the few remaining hikers eating oatmeal from ziplocks or fussing with blister kits. Hala had his gear packed and squared away in under five minutes—military precision. I envied his economy. My own pack looked like a yard sale until I’d spent another ten minutes wrestling my shit together.

When I finally got my boots laced, Hala was standing by the trail sign, biting into a protein bar and watching the sky lighten. I joined him, brushing the grit from my hair and blinking at the stretch of blue beyond the treeline.

He pointed up the path, past the crooked wooden “Appalachian Trail” sign. “There’s the official start.”

“Oh shit,” I said.

“Yeah, no wonder I feel so good this morning—we only hiked 9 miles yesterday.”

“Fuck, yeah, we gotta pick up the pace.”

Hala nodded. “But we should get a picture with the sign.”

“Absolutely,” I said, digging out my phone. My voice cracked, and I winced.

He smirked, eyes on my hands. “You want me to do the honors?”

“I mean, it’s tradition,” I said. I tried to hand him my phone but dropped it. He caught it midair, barely glancing down.

“Steady hands,” he said, and squared up the shot. “Say cheese, Chad.”

I grinned—too wide, too forced, but fuck it—who cares. “You want one, too?”

He shrugged, then nodded. “Would be weird not to, right?”

I took his phone, which was ancient and crusted with what looked like dried mud and sunscreen. He leaned in, almost shoulder to shoulder with me, his face just a few inches away, and gave a half-hearted peace sign. I snapped a shot, and he said, “Better take a backup or two—you know—for the fans.”

I did, holding the camera steady, but my eyes drifted to him—jawline sharp as a knife, lips parted just enough to show a flash of white teeth. For a second, he looked right at me, not the lens, and I felt it: a surge of heat low in my stomach. I quickly handed back the phone, embarrassed.

We set off up the trail together. At first we walked in silence, the only sounds the scrape of our boots and the rising din of cicadas. The humidity was already a living thing, beads of sweat forming at my temples before we’d even cleared the first mile. My shirt stuck to my back, and every breath tasted of earth and green and damp stone.

Hala walked ahead, his stride just longer than mine. I tried to keep pace, but it became clear he was in better shape. I didn’t mind, though. My view of his ass and thighs and back was spectacular.

At a shallow creek, he stopped and let me catch up. “How’s the pace?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“I’m good,” I panted, more breathless than I wanted to admit.

He knelt by the water and splashed his face, then turned to look at me. “Hydrate,” he said. “You’re already sweating like crazy.”

I knelt beside him and dipped my bottle into the icy stream. He watched as I filled it, then shook the excess from his hair, droplets catching on his lashes. His face just inches from mine, and I caught the sharp, masculine tang of him—sweat, salt, and something clean beneath.

He must have seen me staring, because he smirked. “You ever get lost in your own head?”

“All the time,” I said too quickly.

He nodded, like he understood more than he was willing to say, and stood. “Me too. That’s why I like hiking. No room for bullshit.”

We crossed the creek and hiked in tandem for a while, matching strides. Conversation came in starts and stops, nothing forced. We talked about gear, favorite hiking snacks, our worst sports injuries. Then, as the sun rose higher, the talk shifted to real shit.

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor,” he said, out of nowhere. “Or an engineer. Something practical. They don’t get the whole hiking thing.”

I laughed. “Mine thought I’d be a pastor. Or maybe a youth pastor. Guess we both disappointed someone.”

He looked over, an edge of surprise in his eyes. “A pastor?”

“Yeah. Grew up pretty conservative. It’s...complicated.”

He thought about this, then shrugged. “Isn’t everything?”

I wanted to ask what his family believed, but I hesitated, afraid of crossing a line. A moment later, Hala saved me the trouble. “My parents are Muslim,” he said, voice flat but not cold. “Not the scary kind, motherfucker.” He looked at me and laughed.

“I wasn’t even…”

“Don’t fucking lie. I saw the distress in your face, Chad.”

“I promise…”

“Chad,” he said, patting my shoulder. “I’m joking. Settle man. But anyway, my parents are just...strict.”

I nodded, feeling the tension ripple between us. “I get it. My mom still thinks I’m going to hell because I quit church. Or maybe just because I like whiskey.”

Hala laughed, louder than he meant to. “My dad told me that even if I made it to heaven, I’d probably get lost and wander out.”

I snorted. He did too. And I thought to myself that I liked the sound of his laughter.

We kept walking, faster than yesterday, the miles slipping by. The trail rose and fell, sometimes switchbacking through thickets of oak and maple, sometimes opening up to sunbaked ridges where the air shimmered with heat. At every break, I found myself inventing excuses to linger: a blister to check, a stick caught in my laces, a snack that needed immediate eating. Anything to stretch out the time with him.

Once, when the trail narrowed to a single file through thick laurel, Hala brushed up against me as he passed. His arm grazed my side, the contact electric. I jerked in surprise, nearly tripping over a root.

He caught my elbow, steadying me. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, voice hoarse.

He let his hand rest on my arm for a moment, much longer than necessary. My penis responded immediately to his touch. When he released me, we walked in silence, but my heart hammered in my chest.

Here’s Part 2