The river cut a glistening ribbon through the valley, twisting and turning against itself, as if straining to escape the very countryside through which it flowed. In the winter, as the cold descended, it would freeze over and become still and quiet; but now, in the height of summer and under the blistering sun, it was a noisy and vibrant source of life. Full of fish and watering the local wildlife, the river provided a focal centre to which all living creatures were drawn. This is how Campbell remembered these highlands from his boyhood, a heavenly hunting ground safe from the mundane village existence of his family and friends: salmon to be caught and rabbits to be trapped; the spoils to be carried home triumphantly.
Following the war, Campbell had returned to the city where his parents were now buried. All but destroyed by the terrible events he had witnessed whilst protecting his country in foreign lands, the smog-laden city sapped yet more strength from his world-weary soul. His parents had decided to sell the farm and work in the factories to help the war effort despite their considerable years and now Campbell was left homeless at twenty-four.
Campbell finally summoned the courage to leave the rut he made for himself in the city and return to the place of his childhood. He knew instantly that he had made the right decision. Standing on the hill marking the highest point of his father's farmland, emotion came unbidden and the decision was made. He would buy the farmland back and work the land as he should have done before the war stole him away. Within the week, he had moved into the old steading and began restoration of the house and fields.
It was hard physical work and the lean mass he had lost whilst fighting overseas on limited rations began to return. His scarred body ached from all the physical labour, yet as the land developed, so did his physique. He knew the local women began to hold his gaze too long when he visited the village and that they whispered and giggled behind his back as they watched him pitch hay bales in the harvest season, admiring his torso and staring at the generous bulge in his crotch. Hard slabs of muscle soon covered him, protecting him in some small way from the pain he felt inside. As he worked, he would sweat and a slick sheen would cover his upper body, forcing him to strip down and attracting the amorous attentions of several farmers' wives. The war, however, had stolen any lust from his soul. Uninterested, he would ignore the women, and work all the harder.
In his teens, Campbell had enjoyed more than his fair share of sex. At the local dances, he never left alone and usually ended up fucking roughly with some pretty young girl behind a barn or in a field. He had loved the expression on their faces when they pulled his swollen cock out of his trousers for the first time. Pulling his taut foreskin right down over his smooth shaft, exposing the large pink head glistening with pre-cum, he would encourage them so suck him. Some of the girls were better than others, exquisite even. Experience taught him which girls had little tricks that they would perform and which girls loved to swallow him down, revelling in his semen. (One had even blown bubbles before licking him clean.) A few of the shy ones had refused to take him in his mouth and so he would persuade them to take it in the wrong hole, the tightness satisfying his lust and allowing him to thrust deeply. He was not always a callous lover, however, and knew well enough what gentle play with a girls' clitoris could do. He liked to see a girl helpless with lust as he teased and pleased her with caresses and small wet circles on her stiff little sex. He enjoyed the warm wetness of a girls' pussy pressed against his lips and would passionately kiss it and lick hungrily for hours. Some girls would beg him never to stop and moan or squeal or scream as he suckled on their hooded clitoris. He loved to fuck them then, with long slow strokes in and out whilst continuing the clitoral pressure with a gentle thumb or finger. He had learned to steady his own urges, only gushing hot semen when her own orgasm pushed him over the edge into ecstasy and relief.
After 2 years of rebuilding the farm, Campbell realised without any sense of misplaced pride that it was returning to its former status. The cattle he bought were growing strong and healthy, and the crops were bringing a plentiful income. Unfortunately, the farmhouse remained little more than a place to eat and sleep. The meals he prepared were bland and barely nourishing and the house remained dirty and sparse. He knew that a wife would make a substantial difference to this state of affairs, and he considered the eligible women in the area. He quickly disregarded the majority, however, and resigned himself to living alone. This realisation was surprisingly comforting and he acknowledged to himself that he enjoyed his own company and the quiet solitude of farming. A swim in the river one evening would soon upset this comforting solitude.
