So I like walking; walking, not hiking or running or any of that shit. I like the wind in my face, the dirt on my boots, even the ache in my legs after a long day out. Most of all I like the open spaces, I guess. Where I go you can walk miles and miles without seeing another soul, and when you do it's a nod of the head and you walk on. All except that one day when I met the skinhead kid.

It's not a good name, since he was a bit too old to be a kid and a bit too scruffy to be a skinhead, but I never got his real name. He was walking down the path, and he looked like he'd walked out of a club or something, not the middle of nowhere with nothing but rocks and sheep around. He was wearing camouflage pants and rainbow suspenders, and he'd shaved his head, rather badly. He carried a ragged backpack. When we passed, he stopped, and he smiled at me.

'Hey,' he said. 'Nice day.'

I grunted something, looking away, but he didn't give up.

'You come here often?' He grinned and sat down on a boulder. He had long skinny legs and as his shirt rode up I saw he had a ring in his navel. Not that I was staring.

'I like to walk,' I said.

'Yeah, me too.'

I grunted again. 'Never seen you here before.'

'I walk lots of places.' He tilted his head back. 'Come sit next to me.'

I don't know why I listened to him, but I did. The boulder was big enough for two but barely. I could feel him warm against me. He actually leaned against me, put his head on my shoulder. I froze.

'I love this view.' He put his hand on my thigh.

I stared at him. 'Fuck, are you always this forward?'

'Sometimes.' He moved his hand up to my crotch. 'There's no one around, and I haven't had any action in a while. So why not?'

I laughed nervously. 'We're out in the open.'

'Like I said, there's no one around.' He unzipped my pants, bold as anything, and slipped out my cock. A few moments later it was hard, and then his mouth was on it. I'd never felt anything like that before. Sure, I'd gotten blown before, but not like that. His mouth was hot and wet and his tongue worked up and down me. I put my hands on his head, feeling his stubble. I couldn't help it, I started fucking his mouth. He didn't seem to mind, though, he just reached up with his other hand and squeezed my bollocks softly.

'Fuck!' I cried out.

He stopped. 'Did I hurt you?'

'No, don't stop,' I said, 'that felt so good.'

He didn't stop. He went on, his tongue licking my cockhead and his fingers fondling my bollocks and stroking the bottom of my shaft. I thought I was going to cum in his mouth then and there, but he pulled away. 'Not yet,' he whispered. 'I'd like you to fuck me.' He rummaged in his pack and took out an faded red blanket and a box of condoms - which he handed to me.

'Don't think I'll make it through the whole box,' I said.

He spread out the blanket and slid off his suspenders. His pants almost fell off of him. He wasn't wearing underwear. I bit my lip. He lay down and spread his legs wide; his cock was a hard curve against his belly. I pulled down my own pants and rammed a condom onto my cock. It was slick, and with it's help I thrust into his waiting arse. I didn't last too long - he was so tight and hot - and when I felt myself about to cum I cried out.

"No," he said, "pull out. Cum on top of me."

He didn't have to ask twice. I took off the condom, tossing it aside, and he grabbed onto my cock, squeezing it. I came hard, and I don't think I've ever shot so much cum in my life. It shot all over his smooth chest, and I bent down to lick up my own cum. I'd never tasted it before. It was hot and salty. I kissed him then so he could taste my cum on my lips, and grabbed his cock, jerking it until he bit my lip and added his own cum to the mix.

"God, that was hot," he said.

I had to agree. After we got cleaned up, we walked together a while after that, but once we got to the roads he caught a ride, and I've not seen him since. But I do go to walk there as much as I can. You know. Just in case.