Page 1 of Curvy Girl for the Mountain Man

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Olivia

The sun blazes down on me as I make my way up the mountain trail, beads of sweat forming on my brow. My legs ache from the strain, but I push forward, determined not to let my curvy body hold me back.

It was my best friend's idea for me to take this solo hiking trip, insisting it would help me escape the stress of my city job. And she was right—for the most part. The further I get from civilization, the more alive I feel.

Painstakingly, achingly alive as every muscle in my body screams.

But hey, it’s alive, right?

"Who knew nature could be so...invigorating?" I mutter to myself, panting slightly as I maneuver over a large rock.

My thoughts drift to the long hours spent hunched over my desk, the constant demands of my boss, and the endless noise of the city. Out here, all of that fades away, replaced by the sounds of birdsong, rustling leaves, and my own labored breathing.

But, unfortunately, I’m a city girl, and I suck with directions. As the hours pass, I realize I’ve ventured too far. The path becomes unfamiliar, and a creeping sense of dread begins to overwhelm me.

"Damn it," I curse under my breath, trying to retrace my steps. "I knew I should've stuck to the marked trails."

The anxiety builds inside me, knotting my stomach and quickening my pulse.

I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched, an unseen presence lurking just out of sight.

"Hello?" I call out hesitantly, knowing full well no one is around to hear me. "Is anyone there?"

As if in response, the ground beneath my feet gives way. I let out a scream as I tumble down the hillside. Pain slices through me as my body is battered by rocks and branches.

My world spins and blurs, the pain intensifying with each jarring impact.

"Help," I whisper, choking on fear and desperation. I don’t who the fuck I think I’m talking to. There’s no one out here in this god-forsaken place.

And then everything goes black.

Jack

I go still as I hear the rustling.

Something is there.

I know these mountains like the back of my hand, and I also know how important it is to check out any suspicious activity. If you don’t, you might just end up with a bear at your doorstep.

So, I make my way through the dense foliage to the source of the noise, and I am not prepared for what I find.

A scene that both shocks and intrigues me.

A curvy, beautiful woman lies unconscious at the bottom of a hill, her body bruised and battered.

"Sweet Jesus," I whisper, as I rush over to see about her.

My gaze lingers on her ample breasts, straining against her tight shirt, and my hands itch to reach out and touch them.

I shake my head, disgusted with myself. Fuck, I really have been out here all alone for too many years, haven’t I? I need to be making sure she’s alive—not ogling her beautiful body while she lays here unconscious.

"Hey, can you hear me?" I ask, gently shaking her shoulder.

No response.

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