The Stranger Ch. 03

He wanted both of them to come back to finish what they started. He wanted even one more minute with them. He wanted to at least know a name to remember them by. Instead, both men turned and walked away, rounding their respective corners of the trail out of Adrian's sight. He tried calling out for them even though he knew it wouldn't change anything. He felt as if he might be torn in half from the pull they both had on him. The rain picked back up.

After what felt like an eternity of standing there, naked in the storm and all alone, Adrian had to go back for his clothes. Defeated and deflated, he pushed his way through the side trail once more. He pushed past the same branches and stepped on the same rocks and twigs. Each one stung. More scratches. More cuts. Stubborn tears snuck out in the camouflage of the rain.

His clothes laid scattered out across the boulder and the surrounding area, soaked. He gathered them in silence. Standing at the boulder, he tried to wring them out, but it did little to alleviate them as it continued to rain. The tree that had been struck by lightning was now split down the center but still standing tall. It wasn't going to be easy or comfortable getting dressed, so he opted to stand in nudity instead.

Adrian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Spite snuck into his mind and ran down to his fingers as he proceeded to throw his clothes onto the boulder and climbed onto them. He flipped over and laid on his back. Thunder rolled in the distance as he shut his eyes and reached down. He may have been blue balled by some trickster, but he still had his hands.

It didn't take long to get himself back up. All he had to do was think of the strangers. The softness of one's agile tongue and dreamy lips. The roughness in the other's stern hands and careless attitude. They were so similar, yet wildly different. He imagined how their cocks must have looked rubbing up against each other as they shared his hole. Between his legs, Adrian could feel how open they had left him. His fingers slid in with ease. Pressing into the exact right spots and stroking with even the lightest of grips, he brought on his orgasm with ease.

His balls retracted painfully as they pushed out a long overdue load. Adrian curled in on himself as he shot out rope after rope. It hit his stomach, his chest; a particularly strong shot even got him in the mouth. Tasting his own salty cum was both erotic and a sad reminder of his solitude. His face contorted in the overwhelming sensations, and thunder boomed overhead. His head reached a hypersensitive state that left him twitching as he squeezed out the last few drops. Relieved, his balls drooped down, completely spent.

It was all washed away in the rain though. Without a single ounce of energy left in his body, Adrian laid there on the boulder as the storm cleaned him of his own seed. It diluted and ran down his sides, down the boulder, and down to soak into the ground. He shut his eyes and began to lose all feeling. The high passed. His cuts went numb. The cold became unremarkable. The rain stopped.

Adrian eventually blinked his eyes open to see that the clouds were passing, and the moon was as bright as ever. Its light fell delicately down on him, and he noticed in his peripheral vision a white feather laying next to him. A gentle breeze kissed him, finding its way through every crevice of his body. There were no shivers this time.

With all thoughts drained from his mind, all he could do was stare up. Alone.