Page 30 of The Silent Mountain Man

I kick off my hiking shoes and peel the shirt off my sweaty back, dropping it onto the jagged edge of a boulder.

Lifting my arms overhead for a much-needed stretch after a five-hour hike, I stare out at the river that runs through the back of my fifty-acre property.

I'm moving normally. Acting natural.

I'm not sensing danger, just…a presence.

And if someone has trespassed onto my land and is watching me, they're about to get more than they bargained for.

I unzip my shorts and push them down my legs and step out of them. Then I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs and do the same.

I stand to full height, soaking in the rays as they stream down on my naked body.

I'm the middle child of three brothers, but I'm much larger than Harrick and Marsh. Running my timber yard not only keeps me plenty busy, it also means I'm in pretty decent shape. Good thing, too, because while my metabolism may be slowing down in my thirties, my appetite sure ain't.

I turn my head from side to side, slowly, like I'm simply taking in the rugged landscape and beautiful tall pine trees, not trying to clock from which direction I'm being spied on.

I click my jaw to clear my ears, on the hunt for any sound, any indication, to confirm I'm not alone.

Nothing.

But that doesn't mean there's no one here, it just means they're good at being stealthy.

I climb onto the giant boulder and curl my toes over the edge before I dive in. The cool blue water sets off a tingling sensation as it washes over my heated skin.

I love being in nature. Sky, water, mountains. The elements ground me and make me come alive at the same time, remind me of what's real. If it's an outdoor activity—hiking, swimming, fishing, you name it—I'm in.

I swim underwater for as long as I can hold my breath before bobbing to the surface. I flip onto my back and float for a while, gazing up at the endlessly blue sky.

The sun beats down on parts of my body that are breaching the surface of the water—my face, my toes, my shoulders, my cock.

I reach down and readjust my dick, resting it flat along my stomach.

It starts to thicken.

I'm not an exhibitionist by any means, but there's no harm in toying with my anonymous onlooker is there? If they don't like what they're seeing, they're free to leave and trespass on someone else's land whenever they want. No one's holding a gun to their head.

After all,they'reinvadingmyprivacy.

I run my fingers along the underside of my exposed cock, and as it grows, it rises into the air. A droplet of pre-cum pearls at the slit.

I lift my head so that my ears are fully out of the water.

Still nothing but the sound of the river flowing and birds chirping.

And then… A crackle, like someone stepping on a twig or fallen branch.

My pulse accelerates, but I don't let it show.

It could be an animal, or if it is a human visitor, it's most likely a lost tourist. Even though I live on the outer edges of Thickehead, the charming mountain town attracts a swarm of year-round tourists to the region.

There's a hiking trail a few miles away from my property line. Maybe someone took a wrong turn?

I stop floating and stand in the waist-deep water, swiping my hands through my slick hair, brushing it off my face.

I make my way toward the water's edge, taking long, deep strides, letting my eyes roam through the thick forest, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever is there.

I haul myself up onto the giant rock I dove in from and pat myself dry with my T-shirt. I bend down to gather my clothes when I hear a sound to my right.

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