It was a beautiful spring morning that beckoned me out of bed and into my hiking gear. The lake, on which I had taken a small cabin for a week, was surrounded by state forest and had many walking trails, and I was eager to get out and explore.
I walked at a leisurely yet constant pace for hours, stopping here and there to admire the picturesque scenery of this beautiful area. It wasn't until my stomach rumbled that I thought about heading back. I set a brisk pace back in the direction I thought I had come from, but it became apparent very quickly that the trail I had chosen was leading me away from where I wanted to go.
I wasn't in a panic, because I was on a marked trail and it was obviously well used, so I knew I'd be OK, but it was a little disconcerting. I figured if I headed for the lake, then stuck to the shore line I would eventually find my way back to the cabin. Finding the lake when you're surrounded by forest is harder than it may sound, especially when the paths (which I didn't want to leave) kept winding around.
Eventually I walked over a slight rise and could see the glinting of water through the trees. I crashed my way through the branches, excited to be so close to the lake again. I my haste I lost my footing and stumbled. My left leg got wedged amongst some roots and I overbalanced, twisting my ankle painfully. I hobbled out onto the sandy shore of the lake, relieved to be out in the open air again but annoyed and frustrated at my clumsiness. I removed my boots and tied them together and wore them around my neck. Using a stick for support, I set off, knowing it would be a long, painful journey back.
I made slow progress for about an hour, until I eventually lay down to rest. My ankle was really painful now, and I was hot, hungry and tired. I closed my eyes and rested.
"Are you OK there buddy?"
I awoke to a man's voice. I was startled. I had fallen asleep. I winced with pain as I tried to get up, my ankle reminded me of what had happened. I focussed on the man.
"I've sprained my ankle?"
I answered. I felt foolish, especially the way he was looking at me. He stood over me, hands on hips, staring with a quizzical look on his face.
"You need some ice on that."
He said in a serious voice, before stooping down and picking me up. He was about my height, but barrel chested and with arms and legs like tree trunks. Dark black hair covered most of his body that I could see and a full beard.
He carried me over to his kayak and placed me in the front. After pushing off and jumping in, surprisingly nimbly for such a solid guy, a few powerful strokes of his short arms on the paddle had us away.
We soon arrived at the small broken down jetty that stood before his small shack. After tying off he pulled me up by the hands. I stood up on one leg but before I could step onto the jetty he again scooped me up and carried me to the little porch and sat me down on a big wooden chair. The shack looked clean and neat from where I sat, very much the place of a single man. Everything was ordered, practical, but there were no frills.
He fossicked around in an ice box before emerging with a bucket of ice. He placed it before me and told me to place my foot in it. It hurt a little as I pushed through the ice but the relief was almost instant.
"Just remember to take it out every now and then, so as it don't get too cold."
He seemed to know what he was talking about, so I asked him how he knew so much about first aid. This started a conversation about what he did and where he was from. We chatted for quite some time. He was easy going and very softly spoken, and he showed genuine concern for me and my ankle. He served us icy cold lemonade from big beer glasses as he talked.
Eventually he suggested that I stay for lunch, and that when the swelling had gone down, he would strap my ankle, then paddle me back across the lake to my cabin. Because it was hot he suggested he's take me back later on when it was cooler. I thanked him and readily agreed to his plan – not that I could do much else.
It was hot. Stinking hot in fact. So hot that after a delicious lunch, and a few beers to wash it down with he suggested a swim. Before I could respond he had torn off his clothes and dived into the water. I followed, a little slower than he, as more ankle, although much better, was still sore.
The water was lovely and cool and we played around together, splashing, dunking, the usual nonsense. We were having fun, until suddenly I noticed him turning his face away from me. As I swum around him he kicked his legs so that his back was always facing me. I tried several times to swim under him but he would see me and swim away from me. I wondered if perhaps I had accidentally kicked him in the balls as we were fooling around.
"Hey, are you ok?"
I asked.
He ignored me so I swum up behind him and grabbed him on the shoulder. He pulled away from me but I used the leverage I had to pull myself around him and grab him by each arm, pulling myself into his chest.
Immediately I realise his problem. His cock was rock hard. His face turned red with embarrassment. He pushed me away and swam to the jetty.
"I'm sorry man. When I saw your hot little butt I was instantly horny, but I thought I could handle things. Then we started playing around in the water – it all got too much. But I don't want to give you a hard time or nothing – we're cool - just give me some time – I'll get over it."
