CHAPTER NINE ERIK

Day Twenty-One

W ith the inside of our tent sealed from the elements, the temperatures at night were bearable but still quite frigid. October was just a couple of days away, and the sun was setting earlier every evening. We'd been lucky to have an Indian summer in the Pacific Northwest with mostly sunny days and temperatures still hitting the mid-sixties. I'd dragged cedar bows back to camp several days prior in an attempt to line the dirt floor of our space, arranging thicker layers to one side and creating a comfortable bed for us. I also found a vinyl-wrapped cushion that may have come from a boat. After letting it dry in the sun, we used it as a pillow that we also shared.

Drew was out foraging for the last bit of fall berries that grew in abundance on Vancouver Island, their ripeness perfectly timed to the fall. Blue elderberry, wild salmonberry, and red huckleberry, all grew in these parts of the woods. We couldn't eat them all so I made what was left into dried fruit leather, baked over the fire on top of any fish we caught.

Before arriving on location, I hadn't had a clue about things like starting a fire or sleeping outdoors naked, but I'd read several books on edible plants and berries. I wasn't a lumberjack, but researching was something I did well. Very well. I'd always been interested in plants, distinguishing what was consumable and what could kill us. I even found a canopy of trees that afforded the damp shade necessary to grow many edible mushrooms. And in competitions like Bare Naked , that knowledge was a lifeline.

"I guess I hadn't expected us to eat so well," Drew had said after I'd found the fishing hooks. He'd taught me how to catch trout and never expressed frustration whenever I failed to secure food.

"Me either. Thanks for your patience. Do you wish you had a more experienced partner?" I'd asked.

"Not even close," he'd disagreed.

"Did you make any real connections with your previous partners?" I'd pushed, not sure why it was important to hear how those experiences had turned out. I supposed I wanted to know because I wasn't sure if he was playing to the cameras or actually enjoyed being around me.

"Sometimes," he'd responded, looking at me warily. I let it go, and we never broached the subject of his previous partners or what had happened between us on the beach six days before.

Drew was still out gathering whatever he could find to eat, so I put a pot of river water on the fire and waited for it to warm up. I figured I may as well clean up while he was gone. Before the water began to bubble I moved the pot from the fire and dipped the bar of soap into the much warmer liquid and began sudsing up.

I didn't think I was more than a minute into bathing when Drew pulled the plywood aside and stepped into our space. His eyes locked with mine as I ran the bar of soap over my skin, making sure to get every part of my body. After staring for a few seconds, he emptied a small piece of canvas we'd found that he'd filled with more berries.

"Good haul again today," I said, breaking the silence. His eyes remained glued on me, offering no response. "Plenty of wild cranberries this time too I see," I added, dragging the bar of soap under my armpits. Still no words came out of his lips. "You okay?" I asked, finally.

"Can I get your back?" he whispered, closing the gap between us with his hand out.

"Sure," I answered, handing him the soap.

"You know you don't stink if that's what worries you," he said. I turned my back on him and he moved the soap across my shoulder blades and down the center of my spine, stopping at the place where the spine met the crevice of my ass. I trembled when his hand made gentle circles above my ass.

"I just like being clean," I said. "I'll rinse off in the river."

He stood inches away from me, cupping my ass cheeks in his calloused hands, alternately moving the soap up and down my crack. My dick perked up, and I subtly moved a hand to cover the evidence of my attraction to Drew. He hadn't made any move on me since the kiss, and I did not want to discourage him. I'm making a mistake with a straight guy, I thought to myself, but I was too weak to resist him.

My eyes traveled to the handheld cameras resting on a stump we'd salvaged. Both of their red lights were off. We were not filming. "I'll go in the water with you if you'll help me clean up as well," he said, his warm breath fanning my cool neck. I couldn't speak, lost in his touch. One of his hands came around, gripping my swollen cock, jerking me off. "Is this okay?" he said, licking my earlobe.

"Yes," I whimpered.

Drew's hand, the one jacking my dick, quickened its pace while the other hand massaged my balls. "You like that?" he asked.

"Oh my God." I tilted my head back and against his chest. He towered over me, and I felt petite encased in his arms. He released my balls and ran his free hand over my abs, stopping at my right hip and pulling me back hard against his massive cock.

"I've never done this, Erik," he admitted. He licked the side of my neck, and if I wasn't careful, I would bust. "You feel incredible. Your ass…your…"

I reached behind me and grabbed his cock. He sucked in a lungful of air, his breath hitching when he exhaled. "Oh fuck me," he groaned, fucking my hand while he stroked my cock.

"I've never done this before either," I confessed. "Ever. With anyone."

He removed my hand from his dick, sudsed my inner thighs with soap, and squatted a bit so he could position his cock between my legs, below my pulsating asshole. "How about I stroke your cock while I pretend to fuck your ass," he growled, sending an electric shock directly to my cock and taint. My carnal desire for Drew was uncontained.

"I want you," I moaned.

"Let me get us both off, baby boy," he said, nibbling on my neck, causing my brain to explode like a supernova.

He brought a hand around my waist and added gentle pressure to my stomach as he pulled me back against him, moving his cock between my legs as he ground into me. Drew stroked my cock while our bodies moved as one.

Drew's thick shaft slid between my soapy cheeks and under my balls as he pumped, increasing the speed. "This feels so amazing. I'm getting close," I warned.

"Fuck, you're sexy. So fucking sexy," he said repeatedly. He buried his mouth into my neck, kissing, nipping, biting.

I moved my ass back and met his thrusts between my legs, tightening them as he fucked my soapy crack. "I'm going to shoot," he hissed, lifting me off the floor while he jerked me and held me in his arm. "Fuck! I can't fucking last a second longer." He was frighteningly strong as he manhandled me like a rag doll, and I loved every second of it. I could only imagine being under his powerful hold as we made love, his cock buried in me.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God," I cried, my orgasm blasting out of my dick. He kept stroking it while he drove his dick between my legs. "Drew!" I yelled.

"Oh fuck yeah!" he shouted, pumping one last time. He trembled when he shot his load between my legs. "Fucking-A, baby. Holy shit." His hands moved to my hips and he held me in place. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I lost control. Did I hurt you?"

"No, of course not," I said. "I loved it."

We stood in the middle of the small space.

"Do you regret it?" I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

"Not at all," he answered. "Do you?"

"Never." I removed his hand from my hips and turned around, looking up at his chiseled face.

"What do I do now?" he asked.

"You do nothing," I said, taking a bit of control. "I'll suds you up and then we can rinse off over there." I held his hand and led him to the river's edge.

Drew stood still while I soaped his back. He was lost in thoughts.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah." We waded into the cool water, and he brought me to his side, scooping me into his arms when the water became deeper. I couldn't touch the bottom any longer so I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I'm in trouble," he said, nuzzling into my neck. "Big, big, trouble."

I think I understood what he meant and stared straight ahead, my chin on his broad shoulder. I gazed behind us and into the dark woods beyond our camp. He was facing the open water and the opposite direction. Were our positions a metaphor for our reality?