The rat race in the computer business had been grueling and I had promised myself to actually get away by myself and relax. Not try to be anonymous in a city of tourists, I meant really by myself. A buddy had given me the name of a packing outfit in the Sierras that had a interesting slant. By arrangement, they would pack any number of folk and their equipment on horseback and with mules to spectacular and incredibly remote camping spots for trout fishing. The locations were no secret, right there on the topo maps for any to see, but so distant from parking places for cars and of such difficult access, that few made the effort to get to them. Any slob with a backpack would have to travel heavy with the bare necessities and live off the land to stay any time, once having reached such places. But with the luxury of horses and mules to get there, the sky was the limit, literally. Some camping locations were at near stratospheric altitudes, for California, and the prices for services rendered were close behind.

The packing outfit was up to date, with a well-designed website complete with photo layouts of the camping sites they took people to. I chose the third in a chain of ten lakes high in the mountains. The first two lakes were of relatively easy access for fit backpackers, but progress to the third required a near rock climbing like ascent with a steep increase in altitude. I was nearly assured solitude. The price quoted for my solo camping jaunt would have provided for foreign travel in some comfort, but I thought it worth it.

I packed ridiculously and luxuriously heavy for the trip, with real cooking gear, a good stove, and backpacking-impossible provisions like English muffins and bacon. Once I got to the head office of the outfit, the service was incredible. The head office was like bad Western scenery-accessible along a dirt road, it was a split log building in the midst of full stables with the required outbuildings. I registered, signed enough liability waivers to choke a lawyer and we were off. One of the outfit's hands drove my SUV to the launching location in the National Forest for expeditions. We were met by two more hands who were to pack me in, a hoary cowboy who could have ridden the chuck wagon with Gabby Hayes and a young hanger-on who was obviously there for a summer job.

They were all efficiency, loading my various provisions and equipment into panniers on the sides of, and on the back of an improbably patient and tractable mule. Once all was suitably packed and tarped, we set off on horseback. The trail ascended, gently at first, through incredibly beautiful pine forests, and I felt exhilarated by the fine mountain air. Along the trail past the first two lakes we passed several sparse campsites, and some parties trudging along. They either looked at me enviously for my ease of traverse or with self-righteous disdain for a philistine who couldn't get there under his own steam.

Once past the second lake, I soon experienced the reason for the relatively unvisited status of the third and successive lakes. The trail emerged from pine forests and steeply ascended a tumble of boulders in wickedly narrow switchbacks. I had some experience riding, but was acutely glad of the possibility of grabbing on to the saddle horn.

At last the trail leveled off, relatively, and we emerged on the shore of a small but incredibly beautiful lake, surrounded by forest with mountains rising higher at the rear. The place was desirably deserted of other folk, and showed its height. We were close to 10,000 feet elevation, and despite the fact it was the beginning of July the lake was wtill two-thirds covered with ice. The laconic older cowboy broke his silence. "Where ya wanna camp?"

After a little thought, I indicated an open space close to the lakeshore.

"Good choice," he said nodding, "you'll want a bit of breeze. The 'squitoes can be murder up here after the sun goes down."

With that bit of advice, he and his helper quickly unloaded my possessions. When they were in an untidy heap on top of a ground cloth and the pack mule secured for the return trip, the cowboy again spoke. "So, will ya be needin' anything?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, the outfit will be packing in a party to lake two down there in five days and the boss will send someone by to check on you for safety like. But it you want some simple groceries, it's our policy to bring them along for you.

"I'd maybe need some bread and a packet of bacon," I said, trying to think quickly.

"Yeah, ok," he said, swinging into the saddle, "somebody'll be by in five days, latish in the afternoon." With that, he and his young companion rode off.

I arranged my camp, including my three-man tent, to my liking and settled blissfully in my solitude. The fishing was almost boringly good, as the cutthroat trout would rise to anything I threw at them, but the pink meat was ambrosia. The weather was good and I was a bit careless about dressing, but I learned to make dinner well before sundown. Mosquitoes rose in clouds at that time and I was a virtual prisoner in my tent until the sun drove them away. Repellent was ineffectual against their numbers.

The days passed in somnolent comfort. I hiked to the higher lakes in the chain, fished, cooked and ate my catch, and enjoyed my solitariness. I was lazing in front of my tent, taking some sun naked when I heard the clopping approach of a horse. I hastily remembered the grocery delivery and rummaged in my tent for a pair of drawstring shorts to climb into, which I managed to do before my visitor appeared.

A nondescript brown horse ambled into the clearing in front of my camp, but astride its saddle was the embodiment of every cowboy fantasy I'd ever worked up for a jerkoff. His most arresting feature was the thickest, most luxuriant mustache I had ever seen. It obscured his mouth and spread halfway across his face on either side below prominent cheekbones. His nose was aquiline and fine. Even from the distance I could see that the eyes taking in me and my camp from under the brim of a weather-stained Stetson summer straw were piercing blue. He easily dismounted and moved to hitch his horse to a stunted pine tree. Extracting a plastic supermarket sack from his saddlebags, he turned.

As he approached, the fantasy was further fleshed out, as his tall body manifested all of those worn out cowboy adjectives--long, lanky, loose. He wore a long-sleeved denim shirt of a cowboy cut, with mother-of-pearl snaps, and faded, well-washed Levi's. The scuffed cowboy boots were a given for the package. He strode easily, and I shifted position in hopes that a burgeoning hardon wouldn't be visible beneath the fabric of my shorts.

He walked up until he stood on the edge of where I sat on my spread out sleeping bag. "So you're our solitary camper. Here's your groceries, 'fraid the bread's a bit squashed, and the manager threw in some fruit. She worries about you loners up here in the back of nowhere."

I scrambled to my feet to show some semblance of civility. Taking the sack I managed to say, "thanks, thanks for all your trouble, ah?"

"Luke, name's Luke." He shook my hand while taking a long time to look me over.

"I'm Jake," I managed to say. I appreciate you coming all the way up that awful trail just to bring me some groceries."

"Hey, it's part of the company services. The manager insists we look in on long-term loners like you." He slapped some dust off the thigh of his jeans. "Whew, that trail is dusty. You got some soap I could cadge? I wouldn't mind a wash in the lake, never mind how icy that water is."

"Yuh-yeah, sure," I managed to gulp. I looked into the entrance of the tent and found my plastic soapbox and one remaining clean towel. I took them and turned back. "Here's the soap, and you might as well have a towel too."

"Much obliged," Luke said, taking the items and placing them on the edge of my sleeping bag. I couldn't help notice when he took the washing things that he had remarkably small, fine hands for a packer and cowboy. He quickly jerked the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, snatched the placket of snaps open in one sweep, and shrugged off his shirt.

I had to keep from gasping aloud at the sight of Jake's body. He was well built, with a barrel chest and flat belly. His fine physique lacked the sculpting of a spa lifter; it was simply the sturdy body of a fit, hard-working man. His strapping chest and rippled belly were covered with a pelt of chestnut colored curling hair. I had to force myself to keep from staring. His jeans rode low enough on his slim hips to show that, in accord with my cowboy fantasy, he wore no underwear.

The removal of his hat revealed a thick head of hair cut short and sweatily imprinted by the band of his Stetson. He stooped, placed his hat on the sleeping bag, and taking up the soap and towel strode off towards the lake. I had washed earlier that morning and winced at the thought. The clear lake water was icy, and the stream that ran into the lake was fed with runoff from the icier lakes upstream. To call the experience 'bracing' was laughable.

I tried to keep a tidy camp, but self-consciously straightened things up. Just as I finished, Luke walked up, finished with his bathing in the lake. The hair on his head and his chest hair was wet and mussed, and the towel I had given him was still folded. He handed it back to me.

"Thanks for the towel, but I know how it is to have something clean to use up here camping. The sun's warm enough, I'll just drip dry."

He sat on a rock next to my fire ring and stretched, sticking his legs out straight and supporting is upper body on outstretched arms, facing the sun. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes in simple relaxation. Drips of water glistened in his pelt and even at the ends of his opulent mustache. The virile image was completed by the fact his small nipples were still erect from the cold water. Lust was fueling the fires below my waist to the point I figured I had to do something distracting.

I turned towards the small cooler I'd had packed in and looked over my shoulder. "Ah, Luke?"

Without moving his body, he turned and looked my way. "Yeah?"

"Ah, I was just about to make lunch and have enough cold cuts left for two sandwiches. Would you like one?"

"That'd be good of you. I started later this morning than I intended and didn't pack anything. Whatever you have to put on it would be fine."

I took some squashed pieces of bread from the loaf Luke had packed in to me and proceeded to construct two simple sandwiches. I put them on a couple of tin camp plates and added a couple of bananas from the fruit Luke's boss had thoughtfully added to my care package.

My waist-centered embarrassment had subsided sufficiently that I turned around and tapped the still relaxing cowboy on the arm. He sat up, and a smile emerged from under his mustache as he accepted the plate. "Good of you, thanks. I don't suppose you might have some coffee would you? Long ride back."

I shook the coffee pot on top of my small camp stove. "Just enough for a couple of cups. I'll warm it up."

When the coffee was minimally warm, which took long enough at the altitude, I poured it into two mugs and handed Luke one. He had finished half of the sandwich by that time. He took the mug and sipped. "You make right good camp coffee."

I had attacked my own sandwich and mumbled over a mouthful, "filter, packing in like this I could bring it."

By this time Luke had finished his sandwich and fruit and set the plate aside. He sipped his coffee and then stretched and shifted on the boulder he was sitting on. "Damn, saddles and rocks are hard on the butt, and I don't have much padding. You mind if I join you on your sleeping bag there? Ease the body a bit?"

I moved over to make room. "Sure, make yourself, ah, com-comfortable."

I realized my prurient unease was evident in my stuttering. Luke stood up and cocked his hips in such a way that his jeans rode as low as possible without falling off. The furry expanse of body visible below his navel made it obvious his taut abdominal muscles finished in relief, like the cuirass of Roman armor. He sat down on the sleeping bag beside me, hugged his knees, and took a sip of coffee. I tried to keep myself from staring at the fine play of muscle along his back, or his virily frizzed forearms and shoulders.

"So, fishing good?"

"Y-yes," I managed, "too good, those cutthroat will hit on anything."

"Funny thing, I enjoy fishing. Been packing you campers in all season and haven't taken time to fish yet. Plenty of trout to eat at headquarters, but ain't caught any myself."

"Well, yeah," I paused, "ah, you should do some." I realized my conversation was lame.

Luke turned toward me. "You seem nervous, am I disturbing you somehow? Me sitting here half-naked like?" He ran one hand through the fine fur on his chest.

I was reminded of the scene in Frayn's novel The Go Between, where the barechested farmer asked a similar question of the youthful protagonist. "N-no, it's fine. If you're comfortable, and, ah, dry."

Unheedingly, I lowered my legs out in front of me, and Luke noted the still obvious bulge in my cotton shorts

"Why," he said, "I do believe I see the problem here." He set his empty coffee mug aside, turned back, and fingered my erect cock through the thin cotton fabric of my shorts. I shuddered and contrived to blurt out, "oh, ah, no."

Luke's hand kneaded my prick knowingly "Why yes, boy, that's a fine one you got there, I mean…" He deftly reached down and removed his boots. Standing up on the sleeping bag, he quickly unbuttoned his Levi's, dropped them round his ankles, and pulled them off his feet. He was standing naked, save for gray woolen boot socks with orange toes and heels, and I could only gawk. His cock was thick and uncut. Not fully erect, it arched out and down from his virile body with the head only partially emerging from the foreskin.

He bent down and took my elbow with one rough, callused hand, pulling me to stand too. He pulled me close to him and ran his hand down my chest slowly. "You've got a nice body for the younger sorts. Do you like mine?"

By now I was actively trembling. "Y-yes, I do," I stammered.

"Thought you did from the way you eyed me when I took my shirt off. Now…" He reached and undid the bow securing my waistband drawstring, jerking the waist loose so my shorts fell down around my ankles. He moved towards me so his fully hardening cock grazed my own now exposed erection. He neared until his chest hair was grazing my nipples and looked slightly down at me from his superior height.

"Look what we got here." He reached and grasped our two cocks together. "And what do you suppose we ought to do about it?"

"I-I don't know," I stammered. I felt like a fly caught in a web, watching the owner approach.

"Why, boy," Luke said, reaching one arm around my waist, "I can think of several things that would be good in this open air privacy of yours." With that he pulled and lowered himself, so we both ended up sitting abruptly on my sleeping bag. He grabbed the back of my head and kissed me roughly, using his other hand to guide mine to his cock and then caressing mine in turn.

We fell prone on the sleeping bag, kissing and groping. My mouth and nose were engulfed by his ferocious mustache and the graying stubble on his chin was sandpapering mine. I slid my head down, tonguing his chest hair until I found his small, prominently erect nipples. I alternated between them, tickling and rolling them with my tongue. All this time we were caressing and fumbling with each other's cocks. My few days of solitude, with only a couple of forays into jerkoff, had my skin tingling with lust.

"Yeah, kid, that's it, nipples. Ooh, good, but let's try for lower."

With that, Luke pulled away from me and peremptorily shifted the two of us so we ended up in a sixty-nine position. He began to purposefully suck my cock and the sensation was electrifying. His mustache was again having its effect, bushing my rod like a whiskbroom with every slide of his lips up and down the shaft of my cock. I had trouble fitting my mouth over the blossoming head of Luke's thick cock, and began to ineptly give him head, as a result of the novel lascivious sensations his cocksucking was causing. The confusion and lust were compounded when Luke reached around and slid a rough finger up my ass.

His other hand caressed and cupped the cheeks of my ass as we slurped and sucked. Luke released my cock and said, "you've got a nice ass, kid, let's see about that."

I had no idea what was afoot when Luke knelt upright and urged me prone on my stomach in the middle of my sleeping bag. I sank into the down as he straddled my legs and slid down my legs until I could feel his rock hard prick nudging the backs of my knees. I glanced over my shoulder, trying to see what he was doing, and gasped when his hands parted the globes of my ass and the bristles of his mustache tickled me as a sinuous, long tongue found its way into my ass.

In my not too extensive career of sex with other guys, I had never been rimmed. It felt like sex reinvented and I found myself pounding the sleeping bag with one fist and grunting, "unnh, unnnh, unnh," as Luke delved into my butt. His lingual action was stimulating pleasurable nerve endings I didn't know I possessed. When his probing tongue withdrew, I half-groaned in frustration and hardly registered that he had again knelt upright and was knee walking up to straddle my thighs

I heard him spit, and tried to look over my shoulder. I was deterred when he leaned over me and I felt the mushroom shaped head of Luke's cock being guided into the entry to my now acutely sensitive ass. I buried my head in one bent elbow and groaned as the head popped past my defenses and Luke slid the shaft in to the hilt. Luke lowered himself over me, supporting his weight on his bent elbows. His furry chest tickled my back and I felt the luxuriance of his mustache against my ear. "Horses are fine," he murmured, "but I think this is a better sort of ride for the afternoon." With that, he began to deliberately and slowly fuck me. His thrusts were almost languid, sliding himself in until he was fully embedded and then withdrawing slowly. When he had almost pulled out, he'd fool the head of his cock around at my entrance, and I found myself moaning in concert with the slide home as he took me again. I don't know how long our indolent coupling continued like this, as I was lost in the pleasurable feelings of being so splendidly fucked. My hirsute cowboy fantasy was working my ass with as fine a cock as I'd ever entertained.

Luke jarred me from my sex-induced reverie when he took my right shoulder with one hand. "I'm about to let loose, Jake, let's get on our sides."

Luke pulled, and we rolled together onto our sides, still in tandem. "Lift that leg, boy," he urged, pushing to get my left leg into the air. When I had got my leg up, he began to fuck me rapidly and urgently, his muscular hips propelling his cock into my well used ass like a jackhammer. I could only groan at the onslaught. Suddenly, Luke's body stiffened and he let loose his own "unnhhh", his cock thrust roughly full in and he shuddered as he came.

Finally spent, he ran one hand down my side as he lowered my leg, "oh my, that was fine." He reached over and fingered my determinedly hard prick. "Lookit this, I've had my fun and your fine fellow here is still hard. We'll have to do something about that."

He slid his softening cock out of my ass and lithely levered himself up to a kneeling position. I felt without volition as he urged me onto my back and straddled my own thighs as if mounting a saddle horse. "Looks like I'll have me another kind of ride of here." He raised himself high on his knees, grasped my cock from underneath, and without further preparation guided me in between the muscular cheeks of his hairy ass . He lowered himself full down over my cock and I threw my arms out straight at my sides and cried out in pleasure as he took me. He began to raise and lower himself slowly over me. I tried every subterfuge I knew to keep from cumming too quickly.

"I may ride western," Luke chuckled as he rode me, "but it don't mean I don't know how to post." After a few more strokes he said, "you've gotten bigger and harder, m'boy, my asshole is well filled."

As he slid himself down my shaft I managed to blurt out, "Y-you're big too, Luke."

Any further attempt at conversation was banished when Luke began to bounce lightly on me, with my cock almost fully in. When he began to turn his hips at the same time my floodgates burst and I let out a choked, "ahhh", as my orgasm coursed up the shaft of my prick and began to spurt. My hips jerked as I came and continued until I was finally finished, when I abruptly relaxed.

I looked up as a smile emerged from under Luke's bushy mustache. "Seems like we've reached a suitable climax for an afternoon's pleasure." He raised himself and disengaged from my still tingling cock.

Jake knelt at the edge of the sleeping bag, and I managed to sit up. He reached to one side for the plastic soapbox and took the still folded towel he'd not used on his first trip to the lake. "Come on Jake, let's go get ourselves cleaned up."

He stood up, discarded his boot socks, and strode off, still stark naked, to where the small stream from the higher lakes emptied into number three. I struggled up from the sleeping bag and hastened to follow him. By the time I got to the lakeshore, Luke was gingerly immersing relevant parts in the icy water and stood up shivering to soap himself. I followed suit, trying mightily not to voice my disapproval of the cold, and similarly washed. We shared the towel to dry off in the slightly fading sunshine.

As we walked back to camp, Luke put an avuncular arm around my shoulder. "Well, young fellow, I never thought a routine grocery delivery could be so entertaining." Walking along, Luke glanced down at his crotch and hmphed, as the icy water had shrunk our genitals to insignificance. "Dunno when that fellow will be standing to attention again, but then…" He let things trail off.

When we were back in my camp circle, Luke handed me the soapbox and towel and glanced towards the horizon. The sun was somewhat lower in the West than it had been when Luke rode in, and was edging to sink below the peaks that rimmed the lake. He turned to me.

"Even if I got dressed quick like and set off, it'd be dark before I'd get to the field bunk house. Boss knows I sometimes get delayed and camp out up here before going back. I always carry a blanket roll on the off chance I have to stay up in the mountains." He gestured towards his tethered horse with his chin. "That tent of yours looks mighty roomy for one guy. Think you'd mind an extra body in there for an overnight?"

Despite the lingering chill of my just finished ablutions, a warm wash of lust swept my skin. "Not at all." I thought a moment and turned to tuck the washing things in the door of my tent. I grabbed my primary fishing rod, and my spare, and pulled them out. "What do you say we go catch and clean dinner, and I'll cook?"

Luke took the proffered rod. "Damn, not only afternoon amusements, but I get to go fishing for the first time this season. Let's go."

We set off for the lake. Naked fishing was almost, I say almost, as fun as what came later.