Helpful Hiker

"This is life." I cried out in mid thrust. "Do you embrace life?"

"Ohhh," he responded, but then, "But Vince said—"

"Fuck Vince," I cried out and thrust deep inside him. He gave a little yelp and dug his nails into my shoulders. "Fuck what Vince said. Think for yourself. I've fucked Vince, and he wasn't half as alive as you are."

The blond arched his back down to the table top and looked at me with a shocked expression in his face. "You know Vince? You couldn't. You couldn't have fuc—"

"Want proof?" I sneered. I'd stopped stroking inside him, but I was still buried deep and had a grip on his hips, holding him to me where we both centered. I released one of his hips and reached down into my backpack and pulled out a golden-yellow T-shirt.

"Yours or Vince's?" I asked as I fisted the shirt over his face.

"Mine. How did you? Where did you . . .?"

"You left it in the clearing. Where I left Vince after I fucked him."

"Vince wanted—"

"Vince is gone," I yelled down into his face. "What is it you want. Vince is gone."

"Vince? Gone?"

I dropped the shirt and got both of my arms around him and lifted him off the table in fury and turned him and forced his chest down on the table top roughly with a fist to the small of his back. He yelped. I thrust my dick brutally inside his canal and he cried out again in pain, Digging a fist in his blond curls, I cruelly pulled his head back toward me as I fucked hard and furiously inside his channel.

"Oww, that hurts. Oh, Gawd, you're splitting me," he cried out.

"Life or death? Which one is it? Which do you want? Vince or life?" I was bending my lips close to his ear and hissing at him.

"I don't . . . Ohhh, ahhhh. Vince says we couldn't . . . Ohhhh. You're killing me."

Fucking away furiously still, I bit his earlobe, drawing blood, and hissed again. "What is it you want? Fuck Vince. Which do you want?"

He was crying out at the hard taking now, not responding with more than groans and yelps.

"I could fuck you to death. I will fuck you to death. Is that what you want? If not, fight for your life, damn it!"

More crying out, writhing under my assault on his body. I wrapped my arms around his waist and lifted him off the table and frog-marched him over the window. I suspended him outside the window over the abyss, my arms wrapped around him, my cock continuing its vicious upward stroking in his ass.

He began to struggle hard against me now. I was too strong from him, but he was struggling against me, and he grabbed the frame on either side with his hands and was holding on for dear life, grunting and gasping in an affirmation now that he wanted to live. Holding on for dear life and struggling to live.

But I was too strong for him and this was the apex moment. I covered his face with one of my hands, the heel of the hand jammed against his mouth and my fingers pinching his nose shut.

I shot my load deep inside him while he was still struggling, but it wasn't long after that that he went limp from lack of oxygen and blacked out.

* * *

The blond, his spent and battered beautiful body in a heap on the floor by the low-linteled window in the barn's loft, started to stir, and I buried myself deeper in the shadows of stacks of hay bales. He thought he was alone. I couldn't leave him like this, though. I couldn't be sure where this went from here. I needed to know that I'd gotten through to him, and that where he wanted to go wasn't where he had been thinking he wanted to go. He'd been lying to himself. He would never had left the clearing if he wasn't being steamrolled into something he didn't really want by Vince.

I watched him stretch and gingerly uncoil and regretted immediately that I couldn't—or, at least, shouldn't—go back and fuck him all over again.

I heard the burring of the telephone a long time before he seemed to. I panicked at the thought that it could be mine and could give my presence away, but the burring clearly was coming from near the table.

The blond stood slowly, stiffly and then stretched and reached for his jeans. Out came the burring cell phone.

"Hello?" he said in that silky baritone voice of his.

He became more animated. "Vince, Vince. You're alive! I thought." a few moments of silence at this end and then "You were what? Saved and then fucked by a hiker? I don't know. I just don't know what to think . . ." Prolonged silence and the, "I know, I know. I just couldn't . . . can't. Listen, Vince, it's just not going to . . . Yes, I'm sorry I took your motorbike. I'll return it to the apartment, but when I get there, you need to be packed and ready to move on." Another few moments of silence. "No, Vince, no. It's over. I'm making other choices. Just pack and go."

I had the impression Vince was still talking when the blond snapped the cell phone shut and stooped down beside the table and retrieved his clothes and shoes and started to dress.

I waited until I no longer could hear the motor of the motorbike before I climbed down from the loft and walked out into the late afternoon light. I shivered when I walked out of the barn; I hadn't realized how hot it had been in there, how much heat the corrugated iron sheathing captured and held. Once more I thought of the possibility of an internal combustion fire in all of that hay packed into the barn. But I no longer related the blond angel to thoughts of internal combustion. I had hope renewed there.

Before I started out along the ridge of the mountain top, I turned and looked down at the barn, and at that odd window high up on its side, deserted now. No, I wouldn't be forgetting this barn for a good long time.