Mountain Fantasy

Ahead of me, the trees start to thin out as the terrain becomes more mountainous, but the sight of the blue sky streaked with high wispy cloud peeping through the thinning green canopy above me is as alluring as the promise of the breath-taking view awaiting me further along this trail. I pause to catch my breath, taking a drink from the small water bottle I carry in my daypack and wiping at the sweat beginning to bead on my forehead, before resuming my climb.

Behind me I hear a sound, one very alien to these peaceful surroundings - the rhythmic pounding of running feet - and I step instinctively to one side of the beaten track, turning to see a very masculine figure heading towards me. He is moving quickly, but it seems effortlessly, over the ground despite the full pack on his back, bare arms pumping and biceps straining the short sleeves of a black T-shirt clinging to the contours of his torso.

As he draws level with me I catch a glimpse of flashing blue eyes in a strong sweat-sheened face, a half smile tugging at his lips as he raises a hand in greeting. Then he is past me and I follow his progress, eyes drawn unavoidably to the riveting sight of his firmly muscled butt and thighs straining the fabric of the dark blue combat pants, thrusting him upwards. As he disappears into the forest ahead I am left with an odd feeling of disappointment, along with an elevated pulse rate that I prefer to put down to my exertions.

The path steepens significantly and I am forced to put more effort into driving my legs on, wishing I had the energy of my fleet-footed fellow traveller. The trees give way to more scrubby vegetation and finally peter out completely, as my route skirts a solid granite mound to deposit me onto a rocky ledge which meanders along the side of the mountain, following its outcroppings and gullies. To my left the ground drops away down acutely angled wooded slopes to the river foaming at the bottom of the valley, and I find myself moving closer to the cliff face on my other side.

Up ahead around the looming curves I can see my goal - a broader rock-strewn plateau which offers the best vantage point for miles around, and taking a deep breath I set my sights firmly on it and step out along the path. As I proceed, I see clear evidence that this route will not be open much longer - the edges of the ledge have crumbled away at intervals, and small rockslides from above make it tricky to negotiate in places, but I am not about to turn back now.

The view once I reach the plateau is everything I had been promised, and I pull off my pack and lower myself to the ground to sit and contemplate the green-clad hills and sparkling lakes laid out before me all the way to the sea. My mind drifts and when I finally start to focus again I am alarmed to see the heavy build-up of dark storm clouds which have crept up behind me over the now menacing wall of granite soaring skywards at my back. As can so often be the case in this part of the world the heavens open suddenly, torrential rain bucketing down to drench me before I can get my waterproof out of my pack. I look around for some kind of shelter, pressing myself under the most marginal of overhangs in the rock face while I stare out with dismay at the view, now veiled by the low hanging cloud and solid curtain of water.

To my left, back the way I had come, I hear an ominous rumbling and I can feel the rock quivering where my back rests against it. But before I can investigate my attention is distracted by the sound of feet hurrying from the other direction, down the trail which leads up to the summit. And hurrying too quickly for the now treacherous conditions, it seems, for my stomach lurches as I hear the unmistakable sound of a booted foot sliding on the smooth surface, and an abruptly severed curse followed by a thud of flesh hitting rock.

I start from my shelter to the horrifying sight of a familiar dark-clad figure struggling to resist the pull of gravity on the heavy pack on his back as it topples him slowly from his precarious hold on the narrowing pathway towards the rushing river so many feet below. Blue eyes flare to latch onto mine from the pale oval of his rain-drenched face, short hair plastered against his forehead, and I feel the strength and calmness in his gaze sweeping away my own fear as I rush forward to grasp his outstretched hand and throw my weight into the equation. Even in these circumstances I am aware of a curious tingling racing through me at his touch, and have to work to focus on what must be done.

There are long and terrifying seconds when I feel my feet slipping and hear his boots scrabbling against the cliff face below, but he manages somehow to find some purchase and I am suddenly stumbling back against the rock, bringing him with me, his weight pinning me there as he pushes himself up and away from the void. I am instantly conscious of the heat radiating from his body through the wet cotton and wrap my arms instinctively round him to keep him from falling back again; well, that's my rational excuse. The other part of me, I admit, is just unable to resist savouring the delights of holding him close. The uncompromising feel of his muscular chest pressing against mine and the damp earthy scent of him are intoxicating, and I struggle to gather my reeling senses and catch my breath.

I venture a glance up into his face, finding a broad and dimpled smile of relief and gratitude there which does nothing to encourage me to let him go. But release him I must as he draws me with him towards the relative safety of the plateau. Once there, however, I find myself overtaken by what I tell myself is reaction to the dangerous situation just passed, my legs shaking and my suddenly chilled body racked by shivers. I sag back into the limited shelter of my overhang, closing my eyes against the driving rain, not trusting myself to stay upright unsupported.

Gentle fingers touch my arm, and I open my eyes to see him standing in front of me, his pack now discarded to lie at his feet, eyes full of concern and care. I find myself melting dizzily into the depths of their blueness, my trembling increasing in direct proportion to the racing of my heartbeat, and my legs becoming more and more unsteady. But as I slide slowly towards the ground I feel his hands catch me, hold me, pull me to him, arms wrapping me into his embrace, sharing the warmth of his hard body, and I am lost on this mountain...

... his hands rub at the naked, shivering flesh of my arms, roving to rub at my back where the thin cotton of my shirt has done nothing to protect me from the rain. I lean into him seeking warmth and... more, slipping my arms under his, and attempting rub warmth into his soaked body. But my movements quickly slow, becoming light caresses as I feel his muscles twitch in response to my touch.

His efforts to warm me falter and stop, and for one horrible moment, I think I've gone too far. But he hugs me close to him, electric fires sweeping through me as our groins touch through sodden fabric, a soft moan escaping as he buries his face in my hair.

I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, inhaling his sweat and rain drenched skin, redolent of far away oceans.

We stand as statues to any observer for a long time, while inside, unseen, hormones and passion, in myself at least, rampage out of control.

Shuddering slightly, he gives me a squeeze before pulling away, and I shiver with the sudden loss of warmth and more. I am surprised to see that the rain has stopped, the clouds vanishing as quickly as they had arrived to reveal the sun, low on the horizon.

He looks around outside for a moment then returns to inform me that with the path almost gone, we would be unable to get the plateau at the top to make camp and that the way down is blocked by rockfall. He informs me that the rangers would clear the way tomorrow, but until then we're stuck.

He's smiling mischievously as he tells me all this, looking for all the world like a little boy with a new toy and with a fluttering heart, I realize that I have this vision of masculinity all to myself for the entire night. And he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

A little later, with tarpaulin for matting, and sleeping bags for added warmth, he pulls me close and I find myself lying with my head on his shoulder once more. He caresses my hair as I tentatively put my hand on his chest. A Cheshire cat smile springs to my lips as those perfect pectorals tremble at my light caress through his damp t-shirt, and his hand moves to cup the base of my skull.

Instinctively, I turn my head up, waiting for the kiss that would turn the small flame that is burning inside me into an inferno. He laughs very softly, the warmth of his breath tickling my ear and I shiver with pleasure. He bows his head, blowing gently in the shell of my ear, laughing delightedly as I squirm beneath him.

My enquiring fingers make their way round to his back, seeking out those muscles that were so responsive earlier and finding them, teasing them, giggling softly as it is his turn to squirm, pulling me into him. A warm wetness laps at my ear and I gasp as it trails electric sparks round the shell, then dips to the hollow behind my jaw, nuzzling my sensitive skin.

He spends a long time licking and nibbling, searching every millimeter of my throat, igniting that small flame inside into a storm driven inferno. I am helpless in his arms, overwhelmed by the sensations burning through me, and when he finally deigns to succumb to my demands and places those soft lips delicately over mine, it is too late, for I am already lost on the mountain.

FINIS